Filling the Void: Why Hobbies Matter More Than We Realize
Last September, everything changed for me. One minute I was out living my life on two wheels—spending my days riding through winding mountain roads and chasing sunsets, feeling the hum of the engine under me like a second heartbeat—and the next, I was laid up in a hospital bed trying to wrap my head around what life was going to look like without motorcycles in it.
And let me tell you, that was not an easy pill to swallow.
The Loss of a Passion
For years, motorcycling wasn’t just a hobby. It was the hobby. Every summer, I carved out a couple of weeks to hit the open road. I’d toss my gear on the back, map out a loose itinerary, and just… go. That kind of freedom is hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it—there’s a rhythm to it, a meditative quality. It clears your head in ways yoga never quite managed to do for me (though, full respect to anyone who can hold crow pose without face-planting).
But since the accident and the two surgeries that followed, motorcycling has been benched. Permanently. And suddenly I found myself facing this weird, echoing silence where there used to be something loud and exhilarating. It’s not just the absence of the bike itself, but the routine, the identity, the escape. It felt like a part of me got shelved.
All Work and No Play…
So what do you do when your primary outlet vanishes overnight? For me, the default was to throw myself into writing. And I’ve actually been cranking out more words than I have in years. That part’s been great—don’t get me wrong—but it also tipped my balance way too far in the direction of “doing stuff that feels productive.” Which is fine, until you realize you’ve become the human equivalent of a colorless spreadsheet.
I kept thinking of that old quote—“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Except now it’s Roger. A very focused, slightly twitchy, occasionally insomniac Roger.
Rediscovering the “Just Because” Things
I used to play the piano. Not concert-hall level or anything—more like “where is that horrid noise coming from?” level. But it’s been sitting there collecting dust ever since the accident. Same with my camera. I don’t even know if the battery’s charged.
It’s funny how the things we enjoy for no particular reason at all—the just-for-me things—are the first to get pushed aside when life gets hard. And yet, those are often the things that make life feel full. Writing has been good for my sense of purpose, but hobbies… hobbies are good for the soul.
Why Hobbies Matter (Even If You Think You Don’t Have Time)
Here’s the thing: hobbies are not a luxury. They’re a necessity. They give our brains a break, shake us out of our usual routines, and remind us that we’re allowed to experience joy for its own sake. There doesn’t need to be a goal or a deadline or an output. You don’t need to monetize it or post it to Instagram. You can literally paint stick figures in watercolor and call it art. That counts.
Hobbies also help us process grief and loss in sneaky, roundabout ways. They create new paths when old ones have been blocked. For me, writing helped bridge that gap. But now I’m realizing it’s time to start widening that bridge. Maybe I’ll pick out a new song to learn on the piano this week. Maybe I’ll finally take that walk with my camera, just to see what catches my eye. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be something.
A Little More Play, Please
If you’re like me and you’ve been stuck in “productive mode” for too long, I’m gently nudging you—no, strongly encouraging you—to carve out a little time for something that doesn’t require an end result. Start a puzzle. Build a model spaceship. Dance in your kitchen like you’re the understudy in a Broadway musical no one asked for.
Just do something that reminds you how it feels to have fun.
And hey, if you’ve made it this far—yes, I’m finally using section headings! Several people (you know who you are) told me my posts were a bit of a chore to read without them. So here we are. Chopped it up. Gave your eyeballs a break. You’re welcome.
Let me know in the comments what hobbies are getting you through. Or what you’re hoping to pick back up. Misery may love company, but honestly? So does creativity.
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