Are hobbies where our heart is found?

Do the things we do and make outside of employment say who we truly are?

The other day a friend referred to something they devote a lot of time, energy, skill, and heart to as a hobby. I didn’t say anything in the moment but it struck me as wrong. This is something they are passionate about and have spent years working on but it isn’t how they earn an income.

I felt that if that’s the measure of a hobby then many of the things that make up what I consider to be the best moments of my life and experience would qualify.

A place where some “hobbies” happen

Hobby feels like a diminishing term that tucks a vast set of actions, curiosities, learning, and creation into a metaphorical shoebox. We are told that they aren’t necessarily something we should be ashamed of but also not something that allows much room for pride.

In my life, there have been many things I have given my attention to that don’t connect to income in any way. Things that I was interested in and even dedicated to but that lacked a certain type of legitimacy.

Hobbies are the realm of the untrained and the self-taught where someone with 10,000 hours of experience might always be seen as an amateur.

The word “amateur” is one I have tried to reclaim. I learned years ago that the etymology of the word amateur is to be a “lover” of something. That something that profound has become the designation for a lower class of skill, performance, or value seems extremely twisted. Similarly, the word dilettante refers to love and delight while being used as a fancy way of saying someone is a hack.

I have a job that I have done for many years now and feel quite skilled at. I have no formal training for that job but most would consider me a professional.

My education is in fine arts. I have a university degree in the thing that by some false measure is a hobby. I make art primarily for the love, struggle, release, and discovery that it can bring.

I have taken thousands of photos, I draw and collage, I make music, and write. But that’s not my job. I have sold artwork over the years but not at a pace that would financially support much more than the continued making of more art.

So I wonder if these things that get called hobbies are actually parts of what form and map our hearts? The things we do outside a job may often have more to do with who we are and what we want and need in life.

We can be amateurs in the capitalist gaze and still lovers when seen with human eyes. And human eyes have to be more important than how the digits on a paystub find their way there.

And I like to believe that being an amateur for life allows for a continual sense of beginner’s mind. To allow for new discovery however long we have been practicing something.

So I wish we could purge the word hobby and talk about passion and delight and excitement. We can be proud life-long amateurs, always in love with finding, shaping, and forming whatever it is that sets some part apart of us alight.

To my friend I want to say — as I want to say to myself — feel pride in that work. Feel the importance of something that touches your mind and heart. Don’t stuff your heart into a shoebox and turn your eyes down to the ground when you speak about your work that might never pay a bill.

It’s not that passion might not lead to a career or a supportive income but that shouldn’t be how we set the value of what makes up our hearts.

In the end, the very end, it will be the moments when our hearts were the most full that blaze in our memories.