Remembering That the Point of a Hobby = Pleasure
I’m trying something new today. I’m going to write about writing (which is not at all new) but, instead of waiting until we’re a few paragraphs in to suggest that this musing may be relevant to non-writers, I’m going to get that out of the way first.
These things I’m writing about writing – they’re not about writing.
They’re about a human (who happens to be named Keely) talking about her human experience engaging with her favorite hobby.
Do you remember what Liz Gilbert says a hobby is?
I’m asking because 1) I’ve written about it before, 2) I want to know who else remembers every word that ever comes out of Liz Gilbert’s mouth, and 3) if Sam and I ever get divorced, there’s a 72.9% chance the divorce papers would say, “Husband could no longer tolerate wife ignoring his advice for years, only to hear Liz Gilbert say the exact same thing, then immediately rave about how wise, insightful and spot on the advice was.”
But that’s just a little snapshot into this Copeland marriage…
Liz says hobbies are things you do “purely for pleasure.” They’re things that you do for the joy of it, a way to claim time for yourself and celebrate that you’re not just a robot “paying the bills and waiting to die.”
I don’t write to earn money, sell shamanic sessions or convince the world that Human Design is the best thing ever. I write for the joy of it. The sheer, effusive “I’m not just a robot paying bills and waiting to die” joy of it.
Do you have things like that? I hope you do. I asked a friend what another friend’s hobbies were and he responded, “Working. His hobby (singular) is working.” (Which, by the way, is a fascinating rabbit hole to dive down, but one that I can’t get distracted by if I want to reach my goal of writing shorter posts.)
So-–here I am a human with a hobby she loves: writing. I love to wake up, dance around a bit, make a cup of coffee, then put my fingers on the keyboard and see what comes up.
Except…that’s not happening right now.
I can get up and go through the motions, but the magic doesn’t happen. That’s an important nuance: I’m not suffering from writer’s block because I can easily fill a page or two. I’m suffering from magic block because the mystical part of the experience, the bit that I’m actually after…it’s not happening.
And I want to share how I’m dancing with it. It’s a soft, feminine, flowy approach, and I’m sharing it because I know a lot of people who are eager to bring more of those vibes into their lives.
When I wake up, I do the things. I light the candle, I turn on the song, I twirl around, I make the coffee. I set an intention and I do my very best to create an environment that’s conducive to the outcome I’m looking for.
Then I let it be.
If my fingers fly across the keyboard and I tap into the feeling I’m seeking, I hit publish.
If that doesn’t happen, then I shrug and look for something else to do.
I don’t force anything. Not one single thing. Because this is a HOBBY. Something I do for the joy of it.
So I prioritize keeping it joyful.
Wishing you those vibes for any hobbies that you cherish,
Keely
P.S. When I started writing, I thought I was going to talk about Liz Gilbert’s advice for situations like this, but the story went elsewhere. So I’ll share it here: when writing isn’t flowing for Liz, she sets her timer for a certain number of minutes (whatever feels right to her), then she hangs out around her writing toys until the timer goes off. That’s it. Timer. Exposure to her writing toys. Non-attachment. THE WISDOM OF THIS WOMAN!
Want to be notified when I publish new stories or have exciting updates to share?
Sign up here.
