Hobby: an activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure.
This is what Google defines the word as, with its etymology and usage dating back to Middle English in the 13th Century. In a world where times are rapidly changing, and our lives are becoming increasingly fast-paced, it's expected that we all have our own ways of mitigating stress, or finding passions to make life a little more worth living. I am definitely no stranger to the subject, often punctuating repetitive school days with energising dance practices or relaxing café writing sessions. However, a need for attractive college applications, a well-rounded resume or even just a competitive desire to differentiate oneself from one's peers can lead to these originally fulfilling hobbies into stress-inducing extracurriculars, another box to tick off on the checklist to be an "Incredibly Impressive Individual". But what does this entail, and why is it an issue that we should address?
As a 10th grader surrounded by high-achieving peers, I'm no stranger to feeling like a small fish in a big pond. Especially in a school with a student body of over 3000, it's difficult to stand out in the highly competitive school environment, and hobbies are the main way of categorising and pigeonholing individuals, the foundation upon which a person's reputation is built. With IB subject choices looming on the horizon, the usually abstract small talk topic of "What do you want to do in the future?" has become increasingly prevalent in everyday conversations with friends, As tensions grow high and deadlines draw near, the frequency of these conversations has crescendoed to a fever pitch, to the point where I'm hard-pressed to find a conversation partner who doesn't drop the phrase "HL package" or "Math AA or AI?" at least once during our chat. As if this isn't stressful enough, the direct tie between the International Baccalaureate program and college applications isn't left unnoticed by the student body, with classmates opting to sign up for additional service, sport or creative commitments, not for stress relief but for building a solid portfolio of curated achievements. As much as I try to focus on myself, rather than pit myself against others, I can't deny that the attitudes and actions of my classmates haven't picked at or uncovered insecurities that I had buried deep within me, that perhaps, I couldn't measure up to all of these high-flying individuals.
I can't say I haven't fallen victim to these mindsets and behaviours prevalent within the school environment. After being recognised as "the climber" "the entrepreneur" or "the chemist", sometimes I feel a need to uphold this brand that I have both intentionally and unintentionally become associated with, putting extra effort in these past times to protect my reputation. Putting a little more effort into planning a titration practical or sending a difficult boulder route isn't inherently detrimental, but when something that was once a source of joy and fulfilment is becoming an activity that conjures up the same emotions as Monday mornings, it's clear that my current approach isn't sustainable in the long run.
This realisation didn't hit me in a sudden epiphany but was a growing understanding after noticing how I wasn't filled with elation, but rather weary relief after topping a climbing route, or when I found myself robotically filling out yet another writing contest application, without the usual anticipation and buzzing excitement. Similar to the way professional athletes sometimes hit bottlenecks, I realised that I had grown numb to my old passions. When did I stop feeling joy doing the activities that I used to love?
Recently, I joined a dance cover group, where a group of fans with similar music tastes to mine met weekly to learn a dance. Our small group of eight had a wide variety of ages, K-pop group preferences and dance experience, and yet this eclectic group of individuals was the first that I could feel comfortable with, without succumbing to the reflex hard-wired within me to prove myself. With our group hoping to perform outside the stadium before an upcoming concert, we had to meet frequently and rehearse for long hours, with our most recent practice yesterday lasting over nine hours straight. Even though the rehearsal was physically gruelling and tested the limits of my endurance, for the first time in a long while I truly felt challenged yet stimulated, fueled by an intrinsic sense of self-achievement after eight of us finally nailed the formations and the complex choreography. It rekindled a flame that I thought had been long extinguished and sparked curiosity within me: why did I feel so differently about this hobby compared to my many others?
After careful consideration, I realised that this change in mindset boiled down to one key differentiator: this hobby was the only one I allowed myself to be bad at. I have no aspirations to become a professional dancer. Dance is not going to be one of my IB subject package choices. The eight of us are largely self-taught, with no real technique or proficiency at dance yet enjoy it all the same. The thought that I'd plaster evidence of this activity on my Common App or resume was laughable, and this meant that dance was a piece of me that I could keep for myself, free from the judgement and gaze of others. The only thing at stake was my enjoyment; if I didn’t derive pleasure from it anymore, I would have nothing to lose.
This is what a hobby should be.
It's alright to have extracurriculars or pastimes that are intended primarily to look good on paper, but a true hobby should first and foremost make you happy, painting your days with colour in a monotone world. Rather than letting people's perceptions of you shape your hobbies, let your hobbies shape people's perceptions of you. It doesn't matter how skilled you are at a hobby as long as you strive for fulfilment rather than perfection. It's okay to have a singing voice reserved solely for showers, to have dance skills only exhibited within the privacy of your bedroom, and to bake cakes that would never make it onto MasterChef. It's okay to be bad at something you love.
How 'successful' a hobby is shouldn't be quantified by the number of trophies adorning your shelf, but rather if it brings you joy, gives you strength, or serves its true purpose: decorating your days in a way that's both meaningful and exciting. It's impossible to find joy by serendipitously stumbling upon it, but by building habits of doing things that matter to you, the power to create it lies in your hands. In a world that's already ridden with uncertainty, it's all the more important that we carve out the time for what keeps us going to make life a little brighter and a little more hopeful.
Finding new passions to stay motivated is great and all, but what if you want to revive activities that you've grown numb to, and learn to appreciate them as much as you did at the very beginning? If you find your older hobbies stale and unexciting, you might want to start by considering why this might be the case. Does the activity not challenge you anymore? Do you feel too stressed about achievement rather than enjoyment, or feel pressured to do well, since you've pursued this hobby for a long time? If an activity doesn't feel stimulating anymore, try varying it up slightly, such as swapping top-rope climbing for bouldering, oil painting for watercolour, or playing in a band or orchestra instead of practising your instrument alone. This would help to expose you to a new environment, and create a 'fresh start' while working to improve the skills that you already have. If you have a coach, instructor or like-minded friends with the same hobby, try doing it with them rather than doing it alone, and they could suggest methods of improvement, or different methods of honing your skill, without it draining your passion.
Another method of making an old hobby engaging could be by setting small, achievable goals for yourself. These goals shouldn't be driven by external factors such as competitors or parental/coach pressure, but rather be small, attainable building blocks that increase in difficulty over time. Unlike a large, overarching, unrealistic goal, these smaller goals would help to boost your self-confidence over time and provide a sense of self-achievement after repeatedly meeting these objectives. These goals would also help to increase the challenge level of your hobby over time, and lead to gradual self-improvement, without seeming draining or arduous.
Lastly, the most effective method of rediscovering your previous love for an activity is through teaching it to someone else. Last year, I had thought I reached the end of my climbing career. The sport was the main source of my stress and self-doubts, and the imposter syndrome cultivated through the biweekly training sessions started to seep into every aspect of my life. Like a tornado picking up steam, my fracturing self-esteem from climbing turned into a downward spiral, causing me to have the same pessimistic approach to my academics, writing and other passions. It wasn't healthy, and I didn't think I could sustain it any longer. But then, an opportunity arose. After volunteering as an assistant climbing coach for Primary schoolers, I realised that despite my bittersweet emotions towards climbing, I still deeply respected the sport. As a coach, I realised that the best, most successful students weren't the ones that constantly topped every route, or had the fanciest technique, but those who were driven by intrinsic motivation, who wanted to improve not for the sake of appeasing the coaches, but to feel fulfilled. It made no sense to blame or reprimand my students when they couldn't do a certain move, or couldn't top a certain route, and this made me realise that I shouldn't be doing these things to myself, too. By being surrounded by younger students who had a contagious love for the sport, I slowly started to realise that what I was trying to escape wasn't climbing itself, but the suffocating team environment. Being a coach allowed me to see the sport from an exterior perspective, no longer with the emotional connections blinding my view.
So this is it. This is your permission to be mediocre, your sign that it's okay to do things just for fun. Go forth and take part in activities that bring you happiness. Finding passions that you truly enjoy, or rekindling past sparks that have since been extinguished takes time, but if you are patient, and remember why you're embarking on this journey, I promise that you'll uncover the motivations that you once thought were long gone.
Passion over purpose. That's what really matters.
my dance group, in full costume for our Maniac dance cover