Bernard O'Shea: I started writing (awful) poetry - but having a hobby is good for me

Bernard O'Shea. Photograph Moya Nolan

"I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry." - Morrisey.

Have you ever wondered how simple individuals navigate life's turbulent waters, grappling with stress, self-doubt, and societal expectations? 

What if I told you that within the realm of hobbies lies the transformative elixir for enhanced confidence, well-being, and physiological health?

Throughout history, people from all walks of life have sought solace in hobbies for self-expression and personal growth. 

From the Renaissance artist to the part-time painters, hobbies have served as cosy mind sanctuaries. 

So, what makes hobbies more than just leisure activities? How can you harness their power for your well-being?

Hobbies can significantly reduce stress levels. It's as if engaging in a creative pursuit plays a soothing melody for your mind, calming the tempestuous seas of anxiety.

A few months back, while travelling on the train from Limerick to Dublin, I sat across from a woman knitting. I've tried knitting a few times, but I am useless. 

I watched as she completed a face-cloth-sized piece of what I imagined to be a scarf. 

From Ballybrophy to Houston station, I sneakily watched and listened to the clicks and squeezes of the wool and needles. 

What struck me was I found it unbelievably therapeutic, and I was only a voyeur in her knit-and-purl manifestation.

Beyond the physiological benefits, hobbies are pivotal in bolstering self-esteem by providing self-assurance opportunities. 

Engaging in hobbies creates a tangible representation of your skills and imagination. 

With each brushstroke, each chord strummed, or each story penned, you're building a monument to your abilities, no matter how modest they may seem at first, and that's the key for me. No one has to see your work.

I started writing poetry (bloody awful poetry) as a hobby during lockdown. 

It started as basic rhymes and simple comedic verse. But then I began to re-read the classics and soon realised that what I was writing would never grace a Leaving Cert paper. 

I was one of those rare students in secondary school who loved "Soundings" and found it bizarre that it was a chore to learn poems from some. But when you are sixteen, you keep those thoughts to yourself.

All it took for me to start was a pen and paper, and within two years, I had enough poetic verse written that I felt the urge to buy a packet of Gauloises and contemplate life like a pro. 

One of the first lines I wrote, which sums up my efforts, was:

I think I'll make a good poet,

It's just the "thinking" part, though, might slow it.

Although most of these poems are now buried within the plasterboards of my house and will never be seen by another living human, these tangible results serve as tiny virtual medals on a creative journey. 

Tangible reminders of your growth and progress from novice to proficient or, in my case, sufficient creator. When you create something with your own hands and imagination, you're essentially shouting to the world, "I can do this!" (Normally the reply in my house to a chant of self-confidence is "Dad! We can't hear the telly, stop.")

The beauty of a hobby is that they are intertwined with mistakes. You are achieving competence through a system set up for you to learn through trial and error. 

But here's the best part: you love doing it, and no one has to see it. The trick is to get out of your own way and have a mental block to start something new.

Although I can't remember my PIN number and recently got my wife's date of birth tattooed onto my bum, I vividly remember Irish Poet Brendan Kennelly reciting a poem called "Begin" on The Late Late Show. 

Gay Byrne asked him to console a competition winner on the phone. The woman had lost her daughter the night before in a car accident. 

It was a bizarre, macabre affair but handled brilliantly by Byrne, his studio guests, and particularly Kennelly. He recited the poem live to her:

Though we live in a world that dreams of ending

that always seems about to give in

something that will not acknowledge conclusion

insists that we forever begin.

We all have to drag ourselves up on good or bad days, and something simple like a hobby, regardless of what it is, might help us begin again.