Jul 21 2008
Trying to be Useful
I believe, deep down, that I may have too many hobbies. I love sewing, painting, writing, reading, singing, playing piano…and the list goes on. I derive inestimable pleasure from these activities, but I cannot help but be troubled by one aspect of my interests: none of these pursuits has that much practical value.
Certainly, sewing has value, especially when I am taking clothing in–clothing I would otherwise have to give away because it didn’t fit–or making household items, like patchwork quilts for my daughter’s room or throw pillows. But fabric is expensive, so buying fabric and making an outfit is not at all cheaper than buying the outfit somewhere. Besides, the time spent on sewing it could have been spent on doing laundry, cleaning, or performing some other “productive” task.
And the other activities aren’t that practical. I have yet to play piano well enough to accompany anyone who is singing–but that is what I am working towards. My singing pleases me, my kids, and my hubby (he’s always loved my singing), but it doesn’t really help anything. Not really. Painting is only useful if it creates beauty that is needed…and frankly, we already have more art than we have room to hang up, so the painting I am working on now will have nowhere to go.
I suppose it is the activity itself that is important, the act of creating, of singing, of allowing myself to flow into song, or envision something new and unusual, that is truly important. If painting were merely frivolous, no one would have anything hanging on their walls. If books were superfluous, no one would read. If music were just silly, no one would own an instrument, or play, or buy CDs, or listen to the radio.
I just need to see that purpose in what I do so that I don’t feel guilty spending an hour playing the piano each morning.
