Embracing Amateurship: A Newfound Joy in Imperfection
For most of my life, I've been woefully inept at sports. The annual school sports day would always find me "sick" - a euphemism for not participating - and my mother's gentle nudge had become a standing note to excuse me from physical education classes due to what she'd dubbed as a "bad foot." Even after I started exercising regularly in my mid-20s, I never joined the social netball or football teams that my friends would invite me to.
It was only last year, however, when a friend extended an invitation to her casual birthday kickabout that I finally felt compelled to turn up. With no intention of joining in, I merely sought to get as far away from the ball as possible - but instead found myself swept up in the game and rooting for my team's score.
What struck me about this moment was not just the camaraderie or social aspect of playing with others, but the fact that none of us were exceptionally sporty or experienced. Yet, over the subsequent year, we continued to play regularly, our lineup expanding from a handful of friends to about 40 people every other Sunday at our local sports complex.
As one of the worst players on the team - infamous for instinctively fending off the ball with my hands (though miraculously never when I was playing in goal) - I'd grown more confident and, by some measure, slightly better. Yet, it's not the improvement or socializing that keeps me going; rather, it's the intoxicating sense of challenging myself without expectation or hope of ever being actually skillful.
This phenomenon is what author and activist Karen Walrond calls "intentional amateurism" - embracing a hobby or activity that we're drawn to but are not necessarily naturally good at. According to her, this practice has numerous benefits, from flying in the face of "hustle culture" to fostering curiosity, mindfulness, self-compassion, and wonder.
Walrond's book, In Defense of Dabbling, makes a compelling case for adopting an approach that celebrates imperfection and enjoyment rather than striving for excellence. The author notes that many people who have fully embraced intentional amateurism don't discuss it publicly, preferring to keep their passion separate from their public selves - a refreshing departure from the pressure to constantly improve or monetise.
Walrond herself discovered this approach through her own experiences with various hobbies and interests - from classical guitar and darkroom photography to conversational French. Initially, she dropped them when she focused more on her career; however, years later, she realised that it was actually those pursuits where her joy lay.
The concept of intentional amateurism resonates deeply for many individuals, including myself, who have previously prioritised our careers over personal interests. By embracing this mindset, we can find a sense of growth and enjoyment without the pressure to achieve perfection or impress others.
When it comes to taking up new hobbies, Walrond suggests that simply making an attempt is what matters most - not necessarily the outcome or the level of expertise we attain. As I reflect on my own football journey, from being very bad to slightly better in enjoyable increments, I can attest to this truth.
Of course, there are limits to our abilities and capabilities; part of embracing intentional amateurism is also knowing where those boundaries lie and respecting them. Nevertheless, the act of stretching ourselves just a little, exploring new horizons, and learning what else we're capable of can bring immense joy and fulfillment to our lives.
As I sit on the sidelines this weekend, cheering my team as they play their first proper match against another team, I'm reminded that embracing imperfection and having fun is where true growth happens. In Defense of Dabbling by Karen Walrond offers a powerful message for anyone seeking to reclaim their passion, ignite curiosity, or simply find more joy in the everyday moments.
For most of my life, I've been woefully inept at sports. The annual school sports day would always find me "sick" - a euphemism for not participating - and my mother's gentle nudge had become a standing note to excuse me from physical education classes due to what she'd dubbed as a "bad foot." Even after I started exercising regularly in my mid-20s, I never joined the social netball or football teams that my friends would invite me to.
It was only last year, however, when a friend extended an invitation to her casual birthday kickabout that I finally felt compelled to turn up. With no intention of joining in, I merely sought to get as far away from the ball as possible - but instead found myself swept up in the game and rooting for my team's score.
What struck me about this moment was not just the camaraderie or social aspect of playing with others, but the fact that none of us were exceptionally sporty or experienced. Yet, over the subsequent year, we continued to play regularly, our lineup expanding from a handful of friends to about 40 people every other Sunday at our local sports complex.
As one of the worst players on the team - infamous for instinctively fending off the ball with my hands (though miraculously never when I was playing in goal) - I'd grown more confident and, by some measure, slightly better. Yet, it's not the improvement or socializing that keeps me going; rather, it's the intoxicating sense of challenging myself without expectation or hope of ever being actually skillful.
This phenomenon is what author and activist Karen Walrond calls "intentional amateurism" - embracing a hobby or activity that we're drawn to but are not necessarily naturally good at. According to her, this practice has numerous benefits, from flying in the face of "hustle culture" to fostering curiosity, mindfulness, self-compassion, and wonder.
Walrond's book, In Defense of Dabbling, makes a compelling case for adopting an approach that celebrates imperfection and enjoyment rather than striving for excellence. The author notes that many people who have fully embraced intentional amateurism don't discuss it publicly, preferring to keep their passion separate from their public selves - a refreshing departure from the pressure to constantly improve or monetise.
Walrond herself discovered this approach through her own experiences with various hobbies and interests - from classical guitar and darkroom photography to conversational French. Initially, she dropped them when she focused more on her career; however, years later, she realised that it was actually those pursuits where her joy lay.
The concept of intentional amateurism resonates deeply for many individuals, including myself, who have previously prioritised our careers over personal interests. By embracing this mindset, we can find a sense of growth and enjoyment without the pressure to achieve perfection or impress others.
When it comes to taking up new hobbies, Walrond suggests that simply making an attempt is what matters most - not necessarily the outcome or the level of expertise we attain. As I reflect on my own football journey, from being very bad to slightly better in enjoyable increments, I can attest to this truth.
Of course, there are limits to our abilities and capabilities; part of embracing intentional amateurism is also knowing where those boundaries lie and respecting them. Nevertheless, the act of stretching ourselves just a little, exploring new horizons, and learning what else we're capable of can bring immense joy and fulfillment to our lives.
As I sit on the sidelines this weekend, cheering my team as they play their first proper match against another team, I'm reminded that embracing imperfection and having fun is where true growth happens. In Defense of Dabbling by Karen Walrond offers a powerful message for anyone seeking to reclaim their passion, ignite curiosity, or simply find more joy in the everyday moments.
I kinda agree with this whole intentional amateurism thing... but at the same time, what if it's just an excuse for people to be lazy and not put in any effort? 
I mean, I've seen some of these "amateur" groups online where people are like "oh, I'm just messing around" but really they're just slacking off. 
And don't even get me started on the part about "embracing imperfection"... isn't that just code for "I'm not good enough so I'll just wing it and hope for the best"? 
On the other hand, if it means people are actually having fun and enjoying themselves, then more power to them... 
i never thought of it that way... all these years i've been stressing about getting better at something, when in reality its the journey not the destination that matters 
we're all super bad at it but that's what makes it enjoyable right? I mean, I'm not exactly the next Messi 
. Anyway, it's great to see more and more people talking about this and finding joy in the imperfect process 
. I think we need more of this in our lives, n less focus on bein a "hustle" culture type 
.
. And you know what? We don't even care about winning or losing, we're all just there to have a good time! 
That's what intentional amateurism is all about, right? Embracing your imperfections and enjoying the journey rather than stressing about being perfect 
. Like, my friend who plays football with me would always tell me to just "have fun" and I'd be like "yeah yeah, but what if we lose? 
". But now that I've joined the team, I realize that it's not about winning or losing, it's about enjoying the time with friends and improving a bit each week.