Why Hobbies Are Important
Having a hobby that we enjoy brings us joy and enriches our lives. It gives us something fun to do during our leisure time and affords us the opportunity to learn new skills. We are very fortunate to have so many different options out there today. In fact, there are entire websites devoted to hobbies and interests.
The best way to cultivate a new hobby is to try something new. The world is full of wonderful, exciting activities that we can explore and adopt as our own. Of course, all of us are unique and, therefore, our interests and hobbies vary. But once we find a hobby that we truly enjoy and are passionate about, we become hooked. It becomes part of our lives and captivates us in a very personal way.
There are many reasons why all of us should have at least one hobby, but here are the main advantages:
- It makes you more interesting. People who have hobbies have experiences and stories that they can share with others. They also have specialized knowledge that they can teach to anyone who also has an interest in the same topics as they do.
- It helps to relieve stress by keeping you engaged in something you enjoy. Hobbies give you a way to take your mind off the stresses of everyday life. They let you relax and seek pleasure in activities that aren’t associated with work, chores or other responsibilities.
- Hobbies help you become more patient. In order to develop a new hobby, you have to learn how to do something that is brand new to you. The odds are there will be a learning curve, and you will need to be patient in order to build your skills.
- Having a hobby can help your social life and create a bond with others. A hobby is something that you can frequently enjoy with other people. Whether you join a club, play in a league, or just gift others with the fruits of your labor, a hobby is a great way to meet and get closer to people who have the same interests as you do.
- It increases your confidence and self-esteem. The odds are that if you really enjoy an activity, you are usually pretty good at it. Any activity that you can excel in is an opportunity for you to build your confidence and develop pride in your accomplishments.
- Hobbies help reduce or eradicate boredom. They give you something to do when you find yourself with nothing to fill your time. They also give you an activity that you can look forward to and get excited about.
- It helps you develop new skills. A hobby that you really dedicate your time to will lead you to build new skills. As you spend more time at your hobby you will become better and better at it.
- It increases your knowledge. Along with building new skills, you will also gain new knowledge through the development of your hobby.
- It enriches your life and gives you a different perspective on things. No matter what type of hobby you choose, you will definitely be exposed to new ideas. Hobbies help you grow in various ways, including exposing you to new opinions and to new ways to look at life.
- It challenges you. When you pick a new hobby, you will be involved in activities that are novel and challenging. If you don’t find your hobby challenging, then you also won’t find it engaging, and it will be less enjoyable. That means you need to find a better hobby.
- It helps prevent bad habits and wasting time. There is an old saying that “idle hands are the devil’s workshop.” If you have good hobbies to fill up your free time, then you will be less likely to spend that time on wasteful or negative activities.
In case you are wondering what my hobbies are: Over the years, I have had numerous hobbies and interests, but I currently have 5 that I am passionate about. They have changed my life in a positive way and provided me with a lot of joy.
I love reading books, especially nonfiction ones. I currently read about 60 books per year on a wide array of topics. For example, I am currently reading a book called The Unconquered: In Search of the Amazon’s Last Uncontacted Tribes which focuses on a tribe of native Indians that lives in isolation in the Amazonian forest. The book is over 800 pages long and offers a fascinating glimpse into their lives and culture. It illustrates the importance of preserving our environment and ecology and is a wonderful read.
Every book I read (I try to be discriminate about what I read) teaches me something about the world at large and provides me with a new perspective on life. The books are a wonderful way to transport me to a different place and era without actually leaving home. Best of all, I joined my local public library and download ebooks for free!
One of my favorite hobbies is cooking. On average, I cook about 5 days per week, often making extra that I can freeze for convenience. Cooking has taught me so much about patience and focus because those 2 are essential ingredients to make delicious food. The more I cook, the better I get at it. Of course, I have also cooked food that did not turn out so well, but I learned from my mistakes and improved each time. I cook food that is healthy that I enjoy eating. Best of all, it is generally cheaper and better tasting than eating out at most restaurants.
3. Watching documentaries
In general, I am not a big TV fan. However, I make an exception for good documentaries. Thanks to Netflix, Hulu, on-demand TV, and wonderful channels like Smithsonian and National Geographic, I have a wide array of exciting documentaries on my watch list that inspire, educate, and excite me. I probably watch about 45 documentaries per year and some of my favorites are Craigslist Joe, Happy, Exit Through the Gift Shop, Somm, and Man on Wire.
Quite a few years ago, I decided to exercise regularly and it has been a wonderful hobby for me, although some may argue it is more of a necessity rather than a hobby, much like brushing your teeth. However, I really enjoy all sorts of exercise: going to the gym, lifting weights, running, walking, hiking, playing racquetball and soccer, etc. The longer I do it, the more I learn and enjoy it. I have also met a lot of wonderful people who share this passion.
Edible gardens have become popular in the last couple of years. I started growing my first edible garden several years ago in order to complement my love for cooking. Not only does my garden provide me with herbs and vegetables that I can use in my favorite dishes, it also provides me with a healthy and totally organic food source. I love knowing exactly what has gone into growing the food that I am eating. Additionally, I have learned a lot about what plants grow best in my region, what the best seasons are to grow each of them, and also how much water and sun they need. My edible garden not only nourishes my body, but it teaches me a lot as well.
My hobbies are a very important part of my life. I find they enrich my days and give me a great escape from the regular stresses of life. If you haven’t already done so, I highly recommend that you start to explore and develop at least one hobby that you really enjoy. I guarantee you will be very glad you did.
As a child, I watched birds. While other boys threw themselves into communal sports or sealed lifelong friendships at sleepovers, I spent my weekends alone on the quaggy, wind-barracked reaches of South Coast estuaries, or dragging my long-suffering family around the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust in Arundel. I pursued birdwatching with the bloody single-mindedness that only a child can muster, and my life, and the lives of those around me, were shaped by my obsession.
Now, attempting to find a way to live as a thirty-something, no longer willing or able to indulge in the hedonistic follies of my twenties, birdwatching has again filled a hole in my existence. Whereas once I identified myself by what I did–my job–now I’m defined by a pursuit that is willfully unproductive.
I spend hours sitting in bird hides these days. Often I am alone; sometimes there are other birdwatchers there with whom to share brief, sublime moments of connection as a bird drifts into view, is identified, noted, and departs; once my daughter came with me, but was bored after 10 minutes, and I had to take her home. Then, alone again, I sat and watched as the hours crept by, until the day grew dark and I could go home. For me, birdwatching has provided the answer to a conundrum that haunts modern life: how to fill our days.
Our hobbies tell a great deal about us and our world: about how we choose to present our lives to others; about the burdensome, expectation-freighted nature of free time; about our slippery relationship with the exigencies of productivity in late-capitalist society. Hobbies are a corner of our existence over which we have the impression of control, a sphere in which we feel we can achieve a kind of mastery usually denied to us in our wider personal and professional lives. In All the Names, José Saramago says that hobbyists act out of “metaphysical angst, perhaps because they cannot bear the idea of chaos being the one ruler of the universe, which is why, using their limited powers and with no divine help, they attempt to impose some order on the world.”
The history of the hobby
In 1899, the Norwegian-American social theorist Thorstein Veblen wrote The Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study of Institutions. In the book, he famously coined the phrase “conspicuous consumption,” but also outlined the development of the concept of leisure time. Leisure pursuits, Veblen argued, derived from models established in pre-Industrial societies, where the aristocracy chose economically unproductive professions and pastimes–warfare, hunting, religion, art–while the lower classes performed productive tasks–manufacturing and farming. With the burgeoning of the Victorian middle classes, conspicuous leisure became another form of social emulation, so that having a hobby–being deliberately unproductive–denoted elevated status.
One of the by-products of industrialization was free time for the growing middle classes to fill. Veblen also tracked the way that leisure time began to play a part in conceptions of identity. In the past, all but the aristocracy had defined themselves by what they did: “since labour is their recognized and accepted mode of life, they take some emulative pride in a reputation for efficiency in their work, this being often the only line of emulation that is open to them.” With one of the by-products of industrialization being free time for the growing middle classes to fill, people began to seek companionship and self-definition in their leisure pursuits. From identity being dictated by what a person produced, we began to conceive ourselves through pastimes which privileged the pleasure of production over the value of the product.
The idea that people are shaped by their hobbies pre-dates the nineteenth century, though. In the first epistle of his Moral Essays (1731), Alexander Pope said that if you really want to know someone, you must find out their “ruling passion.” How they chose to spend time that was theirs, Pope argued, told deeper truths about his largely upper-class readership than the role that birth or society had foisted upon them:
SEARCH thou the ruling passion; there, alone,
The wild are constant, and the cunning known
The fool consistent and the false sincere
Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.
Another eighteenth-century author, Laurence Sterne, came to the same conclusion. In The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman (1759), the Don Quixote-ish Uncle Toby spends his waking hours building miniature fortifications and re-enacting battles with toy soldiers. Toby’s monomania sends the eponymous narrator off into a meditation on the nature of hobbies (which he refers to as “HOBBY-HORSES”):
“A man and his HOBBY-HORSE, tho’ I cannot say that they act and re-act exactly after the same manner in which the soul and body do upon each other: Yet doubtless there is a communication between them of some kind … so that if you are able to give but a clear description of the nature of the one, you may form a pretty exact notion of the genius and character of the other.”
We wish to be known for that about us which rises above the merely productive.
Nostalgia for the useless
It’s the designedly unproductive nature of hobbies, I think, that means they are so often archaic or nostalgic, backwards-looking. Think of stamp-collecting and home-brewing beer, or the medieval war-games of the Society for Creative Anachronism.
Something only needs to become useless for it to attain the nostalgic aura that draws the hobbyist. In Hedonizing Technologies: Paths to Pleasure in Hobbies and Leisure, Rachel P. Maines of Cornell University lists a range of nostalgic leisure activities from needlework to pickling, noting that even such a seemingly productive pursuit as coal mining has its leisure-time enthusiasts (although she notes that hobby coal miners “must receive the same safety training as professional coal miners.”) She also points out that, once railways in the UK and the USA signalled the end of stage-coaches as a means of transportation, coaching became a popular hobby. Something only needs to become useless for it to attain the nostalgic aura that draws the hobbyist.
I begin to consider my own birdwatching in this light: as unproductive, nostalgic and self-revealing. I don’t consciously conceive of my birdwatching in Veblenian terms, as a way of filling the hours freed up by technological advances, or as a mode of self-identification and social self-elevation, and yet, as I shell out for the latest pair of binoculars (Hawke Sapphires, since you ask), or engage in passive-competitive discussions about the birds I’ve seen and the miles I’ve travelled to see them, I’m aware of myself as conforming to a type: the obsessive hobbyist.
Jean Baudrillard noted that collection-mania is most often found in “pre-pubescent boys and males over the age of 40.” A few years ago, I interviewed Kevin Wheatcroft, a Midlands businessman and the owner of the world’s largest collection of Nazi memorabilia. Walking around the vast Leicestershire, UK estate on which he stores his collection (among the highlights are 88 tanks, nude sketches of Eva Braun by Hitler, the doors to the officers’ mess at Auschwitz), I was struck by the force of the compulsion that drove this otherwise unexceptional man. He knew everything about his hobby, pursued it with a relentlessness that bordered on unhealthy (notwithstanding the subject.) In his essay on collecting, Le Système des Objets (1968), Jean Baudrillard noted that collection-mania is most often found in “pre-pubescent boys and males over the age of 40.” Wheatcroft, who’s in his late-50s, typifies the latter cohort–obsessive, completest, and deadly serious about his hobby.
Remembrance of things past
This seriousness seems central to understanding the function of our hobbies. We bring to bear upon the objects of our obsession energy, time, and money, often to the exclusion of other more pressing demands. If we think of Baudrillard’s division of collectors into the young and the old, we might account for the seriousness of the older collector by noting that often the nostalgia involved in a hobby is to do with the wish to reanimate an earlier incarnation of the hobbyist. I’m aware of this with my birdwatching (and might, by-the-by, note that ornithology is a form of collecting: we collect and file our avian encounters). I am always in touch, when I am birdwatching, with the figure of myself in short-trousers, aged eight or nine, lying in a field on the South Downs and staring wonderstruck into a swallow-strewn sky.
Our hobbies should be a form of dissent, a radical expression of our individuality, a celebration of doing things that we’re not obliged to do. There’s something rather sad about figures such as Jon Hornbuckle and Claes-Goran Cederlund, numbers one and two in the (self-certified) list of the world’s leading birdwatchers by numbers of species seen. Both have notched up well over 9,000 of the 10,000 or so species in existence, devoting their lives and their resources to the pursuit of twin chimeras: the (im)possibility of completion, and–and here I’m perhaps interposing my own experience in my diagnosis of Hornbuckle and Cederlund’s pathological pursuit of birds–the search for the originary joy of birdwatching: that all-consuming passion that seizes control of the child as they discover the thrill of their obsession. What the older hobbyists, with their expensive gadgets and expansive budgets, don’t realize, it that it was the very amateurishness of their early pursuits that made them joyful, and all the obsessive hobbyist is doing with their seriousness is imbuing leisure time with the drudgery of labour. Hobbies should be the space in which play-time finds expression in the adult world.
Hobby as dissent
Reading Veblen strips hobbies of much of their pleasure. You suddenly catch a glimpse of yourself in the third person, tending your bonsai trees, or knitting, or perusing your collection of Cape of Good Hope triangle postage stamps, and you recognize that you are merely conforming to the exigencies of economics, indulging in conspicuous leisure as a way of tying yourself ever-tighter to the capitalist machine. You work in order to make enough money to indulge your hobby, the obsession grows deeper and more compulsive, and requires more time than you have, more money than you can earn. Leisure time is tainted by its symbiotic existence with labor.
Tom Sawyer said that “Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and… Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.” There’s a different interpretation of hobbies, though. We’re increasingly recognizing that Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs got it wrong when it relegated hobbies to a distant corner of “self-actualization” (the fifth and least important of the needs.) Hobbies are of central importance to our psychological well-being. A recent study by Kevin Eschelman at San Francisco State University found that workers recovered more quickly from the demands of their working lives if allowed to indulge in hobbies in their free time. Similarly, Google discovered that its 20% rule–allowing employees to spend 20% of their work time pursuing projects of their own choosing–led to more focused, productive employees.
Even these examples fail to break the linkage between labor and leisure time, though. Tom Sawyer said that “Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and… Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.” Our hobbies should be a form of dissent, a radical expression of our individuality, a celebration of doing things that we’re “not obliged to do.” In a world in which our work lives and non-work lives are Venn diagrams with ever-growing areas of intersection–part of me dies every time I read a Twitter profile that states that the user’s views are not a reflection of those of his or her institution–hobbies should celebrate their independence from labor.
Aldo Leopold, in A Sand County Almanac, put it beautifully, and it’s a quote I shall take with me, along with the wellington boots, the binoculars and the Collins’ Guide, each time I go birdwatching:
“Becoming serious is a grievous fault in hobbyists. It is an axiom that no hobby should either seek or need rational justification. To wish to do it is reason enough. To find reasons why it is useful or beneficial converts it at once from an avocation into an industry–lowers it at once to the ignominious category of an ‘exercise’ undertaken for health, power, or profit. Lifting dumbbells is not a hobby. It is a confession of subservience, not an assertion of liberty.”