You know what’s funny? I used to think having hobbies meant buying stuff. Like, lots of stuff. When I first started making decent money in tech, I went crazy with expensive hobbies – photography with thousands of dollars of gear I barely knew how to use, a home gym that took over half my apartment, woodworking tools that mostly collected dust because my projects never turned out right. I mean, I had this whole identity built around owning the right equipment for activities I did maybe once a month.
But here’s what I discovered after years of cluttering my life with hobby gear – the best activities are usually the simplest ones. And I’m not talking about some philosophical thing here (though there’s probably some truth to that too). I’m talking about practical, everyday benefits that actually improved my life in ways all that expensive equipment never did.
The shift happened gradually. During the pandemic when I was stuck at home, I started really looking at all the stuff I owned. The $2,000 camera sitting on my shelf because hauling it around the city was annoying. The resistance bands that were somehow more appealing than the bulky weight set. The notebook and pen I’d grab when I wanted to think through a problem instead of firing up some fancy app.
That’s when it clicked – the activities that actually relaxed me and got my brain working creatively were the ones that required almost nothing. Just me and maybe one simple tool.
Take meditation, which honestly I used to think was just trendy nonsense. But when you’re a software engineer dealing with constant context switching and deadline pressure, having something that costs zero dollars and actually works to calm your mind down… that’s pretty valuable. I started with just ten minutes in the morning, sitting on my couch (no special cushion needed), focusing on breathing. No apps, no subscriptions, no equipment. Just showing up consistently.
The effects were subtle at first, then pretty obvious. Better focus during work, less reactive to stressful situations, more creative problem-solving. My coworkers started asking what changed because I was handling difficult projects differently. All from sitting quietly for a few minutes each day.
Writing became another one of these simple practices that punched way above its weight. Not fancy writing – just morning pages where I’d dump whatever was in my head onto paper. Three pages, longhand, stream of consciousness. Started doing it because I read about it somewhere and figured why not, it’s just paper and a pen.
Turns out getting all the mental clutter out of your head first thing in the morning is incredibly clarifying. Problems that seemed impossible the night before would have obvious solutions after I’d written through them. Work stress that kept me up at night would dissolve once I’d acknowledged it on paper. Plus, writing by hand slows you down in a good way – makes you more deliberate about what you’re thinking.
The creativity benefits surprised me most. When you’re not trying to justify expensive equipment or follow complex processes, you just… play around more. I started sketching again – something I hadn’t done since college – with just a basic pencil and sketchbook. No pressure to create masterpieces or learn advanced techniques, just drawing whatever caught my eye.
Simple walks became another favorite, especially early morning ones before the city gets crazy. San Francisco’s actually beautiful when it’s quiet, and walking gives your mind space to wander in ways that treadmills or structured workouts don’t. Some of my best work ideas have come during these walks, probably because I’m not trying to have ideas – just moving and observing.
Reading physical books instead of constantly consuming digital content has been another game-changer. There’s something about the single-tasking aspect of it, the way it forces you to slow down and actually think about ideas instead of just consuming them. I keep a small notebook nearby to jot down thoughts, but mostly I just read and let ideas percolate.
What I’ve learned is that the most effective hobbies are often the most accessible ones. They don’t require special spaces, expensive equipment, or huge time commitments. You can meditate in your living room, write at your kitchen table, sketch on your commute, walk around your neighborhood. The barrier to entry is basically zero, which means you actually do them instead of planning to do them someday when you have the right setup.
This is especially relevant in tech culture where there’s constant pressure to optimize everything and buy your way to better performance. We’re surrounded by productivity apps, biohacking gadgets, expensive wellness programs. But some of the most beneficial activities are things humans have been doing for thousands of years with minimal tools.
The financial benefits are obvious – I’ve saved thousands of dollars by not constantly upgrading hobby equipment. But the mental benefits have been even more significant. Less decision fatigue about what gear to buy or which technique to master. Less guilt about expensive equipment sitting unused. More time actually doing things instead of researching and shopping for things.
Simple hobbies also travel well, which matters when you live in a small apartment and want flexibility. A notebook and pen take up no space. Meditation happens anywhere. Walking works in any city. You’re not tied to specific locations or worried about transporting fragile equipment.
The creativity aspect has been particularly interesting. When you strip away all the bells and whistles, you’re forced to be more resourceful and inventive. Limited tools make you focus on the essential elements of what you’re doing. Some of my most satisfying creative work has come from these constraints.
My girlfriend was skeptical at first – she thought I was being cheap or punishing myself somehow. But she’s started adopting some of these practices too, especially the morning writing and walking. We’ll often walk together without phones, just talking and observing the city. It’s become one of our favorite ways to spend time together.
The key thing I’ve discovered is that simple doesn’t mean boring or limiting. It means stripping away the non-essential stuff so you can focus on what actually matters – the experience itself, not the equipment or the status or the complexity. Whether that’s the meditative quality of repetitive sketching, the mental clarity that comes from writing, or the way a good walk can completely shift your perspective on a problem.
These days, when people ask about hobbies, I usually mention meditation, writing, walking, reading. They sometimes seem confused – where’s the gear? Where’s the expertise? Where’s the impressive part? But that’s kind of the point. The most valuable activities in my life are the ones that require almost nothing except showing up consistently.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed by expensive hobbies or struggling to maintain complex routines, maybe try stripping things back to basics. Find activities that you can start today with what you already have. Focus on consistency over complexity, presence over performance. You might be surprised by how much more relaxed and creative you feel when you’re not trying to optimize everything.
Lawrence’s a San Francisco software engineer who traded constant upgrades for intentional living. He writes about resisting gadget overload, curating only what adds value, and finding clarity in a world built on consumption
