In the midst of a culture of hustle, monetization, and frenetic energy, “a hobby is a defiance of the contemporary.” Aldo Leopold, famed conservationist and ethicist, reminds us of the thing that made our childhood pure: unadulterated joy sought in doing something with value apparent only to our small selves. We play in the dirt, embrace every quirk, and live like the sun will never set on our day. Pretending to be explorers, we write neural pathways in the fresh dirt of our minds. We carve pathways, overgrown in later years, to be restored when we seek the irrational zeal of our younger years. Our children are eternal hobbyists.
Technology trains us to have jobs not hobbies. It heaps responsibilities atop labor. Messages, emails, calendars, communication productivity apps, in an online experience built to entice us with advertisement and jealousy to profit so we spend. We are taught the utility of technology even in social platforms that gamify the race to build networks. Our humanity is hijacked. So enraptured with “features,” we let go of our child-like wonder. The hobby is an assertion of values not tied to industry, but inherent to the soul.
“The man who can’t enjoy his leisure is ignorant,” writes Leopold. I ask, how many of us enjoy scrolling, bingeing, or messaging? Who else feels that the digital world stole our ability to sit still and do a crossword puzzle? When will we admit that sporadic forays into the real world are inferior to our habitual use of devices?
To reclaim what we have lost, take up something without rational justification for its existence. Knit impractical clothing, read for fun, pencil-sketch trees. Your hobby need not be tied to a preexisting skill, interest, or need. To wish to do something is grounds enough for a hobby. We need embodied practices to refresh our focus and restore our awe. Without the focus and mindfulness of a true hobby, we find ourselves swept away in the industry and consumption that comes along with technology’s possession.
