My personal interest in the classical definition of leisure began, unsurprisingly, at work.
My job was very abstract – we were tasked with quantitatively measuring the impacts of foreign security assistance in corrupt, mismanaged countries emerging from years of civil war. As a result of the fascinating yet completely unrealistic nature of this work, I found myself more and more drawn towards concrete, tangible uses of the other 50 hours of time in my week.
For example, I built things in the garage not because I was handy, or because the products were useful, but because I enjoyed the time spent building them. I took on massive home improvement projects simply because I found the mathematics, geometry, and planning – or dealing with hard facts unaffected by human influence – to be incredibly refreshing when juxtaposed against the ego and personality management which ultimately drove (or impeded) progress in my regular job. And I even researched, designed, and built a backyard vineyard with family and friends, not because we needed more wine or intended to profit from it, but because something deep inside was whispering that this was the epitome of time well spent.
I was looking for any and every opportunity to recreate the satisfaction I found myself completely addicted to – the satisfaction of “seeing a plan unfold, in tangible form, as a result of our own efforts, with as little intervention as possible between our purposes and plans and their execution.”[1]
When talking about these active yet purely voluntary pursuits with friends, I’d receive the same response over and over again: “Where do you find the time?” At first, I wasn’t quite sure. What was I doing differently that somehow allowed me to squeeze additional hours out of each 24-hour day?
I eventually came to three conclusions. First, and most obviously, this all began before we had our two children. Yet even with them now, I’ve found pockets of time in which deep, focused pursuits, often with no other purpose than for the benefits of the activity itself, can be achieved (this blog is a perfect example). Additionally, many of the duties of parenting in and of themselves, when conducted genuinely and whole-heartedly, can reap the same rewards of many of the other activities previously described. We will discuss this more in depth later.
Second, I realized that one of my personality traits (according to the free, online and highly accurate Values in Action survey) is “Love of Learning”. This trait produces an intrinsic motivation “to acquire new levels of knowledge, or deepen existing knowledge or skills in a significant way.”[2] While this can ensure you rarely become bored in your day to day life, it can also cause you to seek constant change in areas which are otherwise meant to be quite stable, such as employment, which isn’t the most convenient symptom. Most importantly, though, it produces a desire to learn simply for the sake of learning.
Third, and most importantly, I found that most of us treat the human brain like a muscle, rather than the incredibly complex and durable organ that it actually is. The brain is the most advanced and complex organ in the entire human body, which in and of itself is arguably the most complex creation on the planet. It contains around 86 billion neurons which can communicate with each other to form circuits and share information, yet most of us allow the many of those neurons and circuits to go unused, preferring now instead to passively consume mindless digital media during any and every “in-between” moment of our waking hours. Presuming that our brains are “too tired” to function after 6-8 hours of paid “work” is quite frankly a myth. As Arnold Bennett states in his book How to Live on 24 Hours a Day, “one of the chief things which my typical man has to learn is that the mental faculties are capable of continuous hard activity; they do not tire like an arm or a leg. All they want is change – not rest, except in sleep.”[3]
Let me be clear – this proactive use of time was not resulting in fame or extra income. In fact, and especially in the early days of experimentation with various hobbies, it often made my spouse quite angry (think overgrown potatoes in the garden, moldy pancetta hanging in the basement, or poorly designed patio tables, for example).
It was, however, resulting in something even more valuable than fame, fortune, or even utility in the early years – a personal satisfaction and arguably meditative state which assisted with the proactive pursuit of the fleeting yet ultimate goal of humanity for thousands of years – a genuine peace of mind.
In future essays, I hope we can learn from those who mastered this pursuit of “noble leisure” and can perhaps shed some light on how we can pursue it ourselves. As sad as it may be, we must now add the word “noble” to the term in order to clarify exactly what we are describing.
For centuries long, long ago, the concept of leisure, and the capacity to use leisure rightly, was universally accepted as the basis of the free man’s entire life, yet we’ve somehow managed to muddle the terminology to the point in which we define ourselves purely and only by “work” and “free time”.
True leisure is not work, and it certainly isn’t free time.
Aristotle warned us two thousand years ago that a citizenry unprepared for leisure will degenerate in prosperous times. Worse, he told us that a nation will collapse if it is not educated on how to use its hard-earned leisure properly. If his words are true – and they have proven to be throughout history – then one might argue that we are very close to the brink.
True leisure cannot exist where – and when – people don’t know what it is. This book aims to reclaim this lost ground.
- Helen Nearing. Loving and Leaving the Good Life. ↑
- www.via.org ↑
- Arnold Bennett. How to Live on 24 Hours a Day. ↑