Why stick with challenging hobbies?

I used to love being an amateur musician. Then I lost track of my “why.” I hope writing about it will help me get it back.

One of my favorite hobbies has died, and I want it back.

I’m an amateur musician and a professional writer. Today, I’m trying to write my way back to falling in love with my former hobby.

Why? Making music used to be fun. I enjoyed the challenge. Considering how much I got out of my hobby, I thought I’d keep it going without too much trouble.

Not the case, as it turns out.

When passion dies: How did I get here?

I became a tiny and obnoxious musician at age four, when I entered a group piano class instead of preschool. I picked up several other instruments during my school years, joining orchestras, bluegrass bands and Irish sessions. In my 20s, I discovered what would become my greatest musical obsession yet — the harp.

I first heard a harp in person at a holiday party in 2015. I was transfixed — love at first sound wave. After the party, I emailed the harpist to ask what I could do if I was interested in learning (where does one even find a harp?). The timing was perfect. My new acquaintance offered lessons and helped me get permission to practice in a tiny studio near my office (thanks, Kris!).

I got hooked. Before long, I had a small harp of my own and performed a couple times a year. I started writing and recording my own arrangements. In January 2020, my goal was to play publicly somewhere for every month of that year.

So yeah, that lasted until… February. The pandemic did not do wonders for my musical passion. Through the first few lockdowns, I was determined to keep playing, no matter what. After a few months of social isolation (as forest fires alternated with new variants), I couldn’t see the point anymore.

Now it’s 2024. I live in a new city, and I still haven’t managed to resuscitate my beloved hobby. Last summer, I tried to reinvigorate myself by taking lessons. I’ve set big goals and small goals. I’ve reorganized my practice routine a dozen different ways. I’ve tried and failed to connect with other amateur musicians. I’ve been ghosted by venues where I’ve attempted to volunteer. While I’m sad about losing touch with this passion, striving to keep it alive has become all force and no fun. I’m barely playing anymore, and I’m truly stuck.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what changed, and whether I can get back to the joy. If I haven’t truly enjoyed time with my instrument in [mumble mumble] months, should I keep trying to fit it into my life?

Challenging hobbies: What do we know?

By the time I realized my hobby was dead, I’d spent several years writing about behavioral health and positive psychology in my full-time work. This seemed like a problem that someone must have studied and solved. After all, we know a lot about what makes challenging activities rewarding. While a hobby doesn’t have to push us to our limits to be worthwhile, the activities that do challenge us can offer lasting rewards, like:

1. Experiencing flow: Getting into a flow state or being “in the zone” can be incredibly satisfying. When our skills are matched to an activity, we can become immersed, losing track of time, energized by intense focus.
2. Gaining a sense of accomplishment: Activities that challenge us to improve and reach new milestones can help us experience growth, increase our confidence and strengthen our motivation to persist.
3. Strengthening social connections: Many challenging hobbies attract communities of fellow enthusiasts. The social ties, shared passions and sense of belonging can make these activities even more rewarding.

Over the past few years, I believed number 3 was the key to reviving my vanishing passion. I just needed to book something that would help me get connected in my new community. I volunteered to provide music at memory care centers, yoga studios, elementary music classes, library events, festivals and more. A year after relocating, not one of my proposed gifts of music has been accepted.

Based on the feedback I’ve received in my new community, there aren’t many people here like me. Not a single new friend — or even the harp teachers I’ve reached out to — admits to knowing another amateur musician. I don’t believe that’s true, but my requests do seem to register as strange when I reach out to local musicians, venues and organizations. My neighborhood library, for example, asked for my agent’s contact information — and stopped responding when I explained I was without representation and offering to play relaxing music as a volunteer. And I have videos demonstrating I can deliver on this!

So, why don’t more people make music just for the love of it? Would I have more success (and more fun) if I reinvented my hobby as a side hustle? In the past, I believed I played mostly for my own enjoyment. I like making beautiful sounds, feeling the vibrating cherry wood and learning new, complex moves for my fingers. But the social dimension of sharing music provides more rewards than I had recognized.

Without a performance on the horizon or any external reason to prepare, I have struggled to maintain my motivation — and my calluses. Playing the harp is tough on the fingers. If I want to be learning new music or performing for any length of time, I need to be playing often. And these days, I’m not. If someone does take me up on my offer (which now feels like a bluff), I’ll have some serious preparation to do. And I’m not sure how to get back into practice without falling back in love.

Getting unstuck: My big questions

So, where are all my fellow amateurs? If you enjoy a challenging hobby, I’d love to hear from you. What ups and downs have you experienced, and how do you keep your interest alive?

I’ll return as I attempt to answer my burning questions, learn from other amateurs and fall in love with music again.