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Lost thoughts: for the love of labels.

Paddle boader, (partial) yoga enthusiast, book worm (who should read more), walker, runner (of the couch to 5k variety). We’re in a rush to assign labels to our name. Be it hobbies, personality traits, sporting prowess the more the merrier. If you take a casual look at this generations Instagram bio, then you will see a selection of self ascertained titles bestows upon the individual by their very generous conscious.

Now I’m not saying it’s bad to assign all these traits and activities ties to oneself, what I’m saying is we’re in a rush to do so. We want to try everything and be good at everything. Yesterday I couldn’t knit, but this evening I am to knitting needles what Mary berry is to the Victoria Sponge. I am a pro. I think it’s the gratification and instant reward of being able to do something then moving onto the next thing. We don’t get to a level and then become qualified. If I knit six squares I’m sadly not going on the great British Sewing Bee.

This week I’m learning maybe we don’t need to be good at everything to enjoy it, simply it’s the taking part and attempting that counts. I don’t need to level up my crochet to upgrade my crafting level on linked in, nor qualify as a life guard before next Tuesday to feel fulfilled and like I’ve not wasted summer. You don’t have to go all the way on things and you don’t have to stick to them forever, it’s not a marriage between you and the paddle board. When a task turns into a mandatory check list it’s no longer a hobby, it’s a chore. I think I’d like to learn to be with hobbies and not be the best at them. To try but not try too hard. It’s not rowing darling.