Tuesday, April 1, 2014
When Is A Hobby Not A Hobby?
Regardless of how little a person flies, is it really a pastime?
It's difficult to explain where the concept of "hobby" crosses from being purely a pastime (a way to pass time) into something more, but there's a clearly defined crossover point in every narrow niche interest. It seems as if an interest that can be as seemingly mundane as button collecting can be approached as something you just "do" while at the entry level. You're just keeping your eyes open for buttons you like and toss them into a jar on a whim. It's fun, but not something you're driven to do. However, even with buttons, as a person gets deeper into it, it reaches a point when something changes in their mind. Suddenly, there are buttons and then there are "buttons!" Some that count, some that don't. Some that exert an irresistible pull on a person's mind and some you barely notice. At that point, every interest changes from being a casual thing to something that becomes more and more a part of that person's identity. I think the ingredient that causes that change is passion: With the infusion of passion, an endeavor ceases being an intellectual pursuit and becomes something so heartfelt that increasingly it becomes an integral part of a person's lifestyle. At that point, to call it a "hobby" or "pastime" is patently wrong.
Regardless of how long a person has been in it, aviation is never purely a hobby. Even at the very beginning, when you arrive at the airport for your first lesson, something within you knows your life is about to change. You sense that you're doing something much more significant than attending your first button convention. The motivation that drives us to the airport comes from a different source. It's seldom based purely on curiosity. And, even if it is, as soon as we're 100 feet in the air on our first flight, the magic reaches inside of us, trips a switch, and we're all in. We're committed, whether we know it at the time or not.
Aviation is a psychological tar baby that, once you touch it even lightly, it sucks you in deeper and deeper, and escape is impossible. The infection runs very deep, very quickly. But, that doesn't necessarily mean that continuity is part of the equation. The journey is seldom without its hiccups.
Almost all aviators travel a similar road through life. First, there's youth, then there's flight, then there's the marriage/kids/mortgage/career interlude during which the shortage of both money and time often bring flying to a complete stop. However, that doesn't mean that person is no long an aviator, nor that he/she has lost interest.
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