When people retire, somebody usually advises them to find a hobby.
The suggestion is often delivered as though retirement has left them with a dangerous quantity of empty hours that must be safely disposed of.
Take up painting. Collect stamps. Build model ships. Do something, anything, to prevent Tuesday afternoon from becoming too long.
I have never liked the idea that we need to kill time. Time is already perfectly capable of passing without our assistance. We have a limited amount of it, and I would rather think about how to use it.
That does not mean every hour must produce something useful. Reading a good book, playing a hopeless round of golf or sitting by a river can be an excellent use of time. Enjoyment needs no further justification.
A good hobby gives us something to look forward to. It may offer curiosity, pleasure, concentration or companionship, along with the satisfying discovery that we are still capable of learning.
We were once defined by what we did
For much of adult life, men are asked the same question:
“What do you do?”
The expected answer is usually our occupation.
We say that we are doctors, carpenters, drivers, teachers, farmers or managers. Work becomes shorthand for identity.
Then retirement arrives and the question becomes strangely more difficult.
We still know who we used to be.
The challenge is deciding who we are now.
A hobby can provide part of that answer—not because it replaces a career, but because it reminds us that identity was never supposed to consist of one job title.
A retired electrician may become a photographer. A former accountant may discover woodworking. A man who spent his career indoors may become the person who knows every walking path in the district.
None of this needs to produce income or impress anybody.
The activity only needs to matter to the person doing it.
Not everything must become productive
We live in an age that is suspicious of enjoyment without measurable results.
A walk must record steps.
A bicycle ride must produce statistics.
A photograph must be posted.
A hobby must become a small business, preferably with its own logo and social-media strategy.
This is unnecessary.
We are allowed to do something badly simply because we enjoy it.
We are allowed to play music without giving a concert, paint without holding an exhibition and grow vegetables without establishing a distribution network.
A hobby does not have to become another arena in which we assess our performance.
Sometimes it is valuable precisely because nobody is evaluating us.
Learning keeps life open
Learning something new becomes uncomfortable as we grow older.
We are accustomed to knowing what we are doing. Beginning again means becoming clumsy, slow and occasionally ridiculous.
That is not always pleasant.
It is also good for us.
The beginner’s position requires curiosity and humility. It forces the mind and body to solve unfamiliar problems.
A person learning a language will forget words. A beginner learning an instrument will produce noises that alarm the household. Someone trying woodwork may discover that timber remembers every mistake.
Progress is often slow.
That makes it real.
The goal is not necessarily mastery. The goal is to remain a person who can still be surprised, challenged and improved.
The hands and mind can work together
Many hobbies combine physical activity with concentration.
Gardening, cooking, fishing, photography, woodworking, repairing old objects and playing an instrument all require the hands and mind to cooperate.
That combination can be deeply satisfying.
We live much of modern life inside our heads, often looking at screens and absorbing information that disappears almost immediately.
Making or repairing something gives us the satisfaction of seeing what we have done with our time.
At the end, there may be a meal, a photograph, a planted bed, a repaired chair—or at least several pieces of wood that now fit together more convincingly than they did in the morning.
Hobbies can create natural companionship
Friendship is sometimes easier when people are doing something together.
Two men may find it uncomfortable to meet for the explicit purpose of discussing their feelings. Ask them to repair a boat, walk to a fishing river or argue about the correct way to sharpen a tool, and conversation may appear by itself.
But men also spend time together in silence. They can work at the same bench, fish beside the same river or drink their coffee without feeling obliged to provide a running commentary. They may simply enjoy each other’s company. Silence does not necessarily mean that something is wrong or that there is nothing between them.
In Iceland, there is an initiative called Karlar í skúrnum, or Men in the Shed, where men work on practical projects together. One of the participants expressed something important: men often talk best shoulder to shoulder, rather than face to face.
That makes sense to me. With a shared task in front of them, neither man has to feel that he is being interviewed. They can discuss the work, leave a silence and, when the moment feels right, say something more personal.
Important subjects can enter the conversation without anyone announcing that a meaningful discussion is about to begin.
This may be particularly valuable for men who have little appetite for a formal discussion group. There is room for companionship, conversation and silence at the same workbench.
Solitary hobbies also have value
Not every hobby needs to be social.
Reading, writing, painting, music, walking, gardening and countless other activities can make time alone feel rich rather than empty.
Solitude chosen freely is not a defect.
A man who enjoys his own company does not need to fill every evening with organised activity merely to prove that he has a social life.
The important distinction is whether the activity nourishes him or merely helps the hours disappear.
There is a difference between peaceful solitude and withdrawal from life.
A good hobby makes the world larger.
Avoidance gradually makes it smaller.
Curiosity does not have a retirement age
Children are expected to try new things. Adults gradually become embarrassed about being beginners. By later life, many of us have become highly skilled at staying within the areas where we already feel competent.
That may protect our dignity. It does very little for curiosity.
We should be allowed to change direction without needing to justify it. A man can begin writing at seventy, learn photography at seventy-five or start studying history simply because a question has caught his attention.
For me, Nordic Wolves is an example of what can happen when we follow that curiosity. After decades in medicine, I have begun writing about health, ageing and the lives of men in the second half of life. I draw on my professional experience, but also on my own questions, opinions and mistakes. Creating a website and finding my way as a writer means learning things that were never part of my medical training.
I have ambitions for Nordic Wolves, and I do not know exactly where it will take me. That uncertainty is part of what makes it interesting. I am building something I want to work on, and discovering what I still need to learn.
Other men will find that feeling in a workshop, a garden, a history book or a musical instrument. The activity may be entirely different. The willingness to follow an interest is much the same.
We do not have to know the final destination before we begin.
A hobby can restore rhythm
Work creates a weekly structure whether we appreciate it or not.
Without that structure, days can become strangely shapeless. Meals drift, sleep changes and one day begins to resemble the next.
A hobby can provide useful landmarks.
Tuesday may become swimming day. Thursday may be spent in the workshop. Saturday may involve walking, music or meeting others who share the same interest.
The schedule does not need to be strict.
It simply gives the week a pulse.
The right hobby is the one we return to
There is no official list of approved retirement activities.
The best hobby is not necessarily the most intellectual, physical, social or impressive. It is the one that draws us back.
It may challenge the body or occupy the mind. It may connect us with other people or deepen our enjoyment of solitude. It may produce something useful, or absolutely nothing that can be sold, displayed or counted.
That is all right. An afternoon spent doing something we enjoy has value of its own.
What would you like to learn? What did you once enjoy before work and other obligations took up most of your attention? Is there something you have been meaning to try for years?
We do not need to account for every hour. Rest and quiet enjoyment belong in a good life too.
But the time ahead is part of our life, and it deserves more than waiting for the next day to arrive. A hobby we care about gives us a reason to look forward to it.