Hobbies: The Ultimate Wallet Temptation (And What You’re Really Being Sold)
I’m an Aries with ADHD. Needless to say, I am endlessly interested in new things. I pick up new hobbies with enthusiasm. My favorite hobbies tend to be movement-based, like climbing, camping, and burlesque. But the range is vast: gardening, reading, music, writing and film all make the list too. And there’s an even longer list of things I’d love to do and haven’t picked up yet.
For all the different things I like to do, one underlying temptation remains: buy all the beautiful gear. There is so much gear and supplies available for each of these hobbies. Some of it is necessary to participate (like climbing shoes) and some of it is elective. When I start out, I can’t always tell the difference. I think I have to buy something and it turns out it was a ‘nice-to-have’ purchase. In these cases, I wind up a little disappointed. Why? Because I don’t have the skill to use it yet. I just feel foolish trying to wield it when I clearly don’t know the basics.
There also tends to be a huge price range for gear/supplies in any hobby, from an entry level right up to what a professional who does that hobby full time would spend. Whatever I’m looking at, the promise is the same: that item is the path to doing the hobby well, and creating something that’s meaningful and beautiful as a result. This is part of the reason that no one wants to buy the entry level gear. It feels like committing to not doing something really meaningful or beautiful. And what is a hobby if its not bringing us some sense of that?
Therein lies the flawed thought. Because when we think this way, we’re giving all our own power away to the item in question. We tell ourselves that it’s the item, not the person behind it, that makes beauty, meaning, or goodness. And in doing so we completely remove ourselves from the equation.
‘Slow Procurement’: How To Buy What You’re Actually Trying to Buy
If I followed my enthusiastic impulses, I would spend tens of thousands of dollars a year on supplies, memberships, and classes for my hobbies. But I’ve actually been pretty good at not doing this. And that isn’t because I have great impulse control (I don’t). It’s because I love learning to be good at something. And I’ve realized how much better the whole journey actually is when I start out with begged, borrowed, bought and stolen (not really) entry level gear. This thinking places me at the centre of the equation, and lets me form relationships and skills from the positioning of a more humbled, admiring, and aware viewpoint.
I start from the bottom of the gear ladder just like I start from the bottom of the skill ladder. When I do this, I know that all my progress and learning is truly me developing a new skill, complete with a new way to perceive, understand and create within the world I’ve always lived in. This focus on growing myself and expanding what I’m capable of gives me pride and confidence. It also helps me come to respect the people who’ve really spent time developing a supernatural-level craft.
Deepening my perspective like this helps me to keep alive that feeling of ‘awe’ that I had when I first encountered the hobby. This Aries-ADHD brain is great at falling in love. I’ve also grown quite good at staying in love. Now, when my I find new and wonderful things to do in the world, what I truly love is staying with them long enough to know their nuances and to let them show me new aspects and limits of myself.
As I stay in a new hobby for a year, two years, I slowly upgrade and expand my gear, as I’m truly ready and able to use it. I also become a much more savvy purchaser. I have first-hand knowledge of what the next most useful item or upgrade would be. I have new friends who’ve bought various models and can tell me about their pros and cons. I have a sense of when sales happen at the major retailers and how much I can expect to pay. I know people who are selling good quality used gear.
When I opt for a ‘slow procurement’ plan, I become so much more appreciative of the tools of my craft, alongside the skills that let me wield them. I can even look across the gear I’ve compiled over the years and see a nostalgic journey of trying, failing, learning, and succeeding. My first climbing shoes. My first decorated burlesque bra (it’s not even… well, even; it’s lopsided, good God). These connections are earned, not bought.
So, go ahead and fall in love with new hobbies. But make sure you enjoy the doing, rather than the idea of doing. Strip everything back until you’re doing it on a shoestring, just you, the craft, and your new peers who are trying the same thing. That’s perfect; it’s the essence of what you’re looking for. Never lose sight of that, even if, down the line, you make some upgrades.
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