428 Days.
In that time I have accomplished much. I: survived the end of the Mayan calendar,* wrote a 12-page paper exploring the intersection between Degrowth economics and development in the global south, ate an entire Munchies 420 “Fat Daddy” in one sitting, rang in the New Year twice, got engaged, pulled all-nighters learning the ins and outs of CERCLA, brushed my teeth a lot, flossed a lot less, wrote a 26 page senior thesis, tried to learn Spanish and failed, moved to Indianapolis, spent my days researching things like “traded clusters,” “all appropriate inquiries,” and “The Flood of 1913,” spent my nights passing off wedding planning to my now wife, married said wife, accidentally made my wife fall in love with Goshen, IN, got stranded in Florida when the Midwest was experiencing record cold, shoveled 4 cars out of snow in one day as God’s retribution for my time in Florida, and finally, moved to North Carolina.
In that time I have not accomplished: the writing of a blog post. I’ve jotted down ideas, I’ve written down tangents to be pursued later, and I’ve even started a few drafts, but nothing has quite come to fruition. My blogging has been nothing short of utter failure. So why has this happened? The answer I’d like to propose is that blogging, at least reflective blogging, is a “Slow Hobby,” and I haven’t yet acquired the requisite slowness to do it properly.
The Lessons of My Elders
Perhaps the type of slowness to which I refer can be best articulated through the example of my grandparents. As my wife and I were visiting them recently I found myself reflecting on the ways they spend their free time. Sure, they watch television, visit family, and read books like the rest of us, but they each have a particular hobby that is in my own life unparalleled.
My grandfather makes intricate dollhouses. He buys them as kits with just the wood paneling to be put together, and then he assembles them and decorates them. It may be an exercise in woodworking, but it is much more an exercise in detail and deliberation. He will put together little pieces of furniture, paint their facades, and cover their roofs, shingle by tiny shingle. The result is not grand, but it is beautiful in its own way. When the great-grandchildren come over to play with the creation their great-grandpa has made, I wonder, is the beauty of his work lost on them? Too often, I wonder, is this beauty lost on me as well?
My grandmother makes quilts. She buys them as flat patterns on cloth, stuffs them, and makes them come alive through her stitching. She makes them for others. She has 6 children and 14 grandchildren, and she’s made a quilt for each of them. The projects take many weeks, often several months at a time, but she’s made so many that she’s going around a second time. This is in addition to the countless quilts and dollhouses that my grandparents have donated to auctions for causes of need. They make them for others… but I think they really make them for themselves.
It is this kind of dedication to extensive, somewhat tedious tasks that I and maybe many others in my generation have yet to discover. It is this kind of commitment to the process of carrying out tasks that are not required of us which I propose to call “Slow Hobbies.” (more…)
The Llama and the Cow 