Doing things for the sake of it

On private joys

I realised recently I do little for the sake of it.

I try to watch the full moon rise once a month.

I fill a diary with mundane details of the day.

I often get into bed at 8pm and read.

But in the majority of things I do, I’m trying to accomplish something.

When I walk each day, it’s to reach 10,000 steps. When I write, it’s for a deadline, a pay cheque, an audience. Arguably, even keeping a diary and reading contribute to my work. It’s difficult to find anything purely unmotivated by the outcome—surely it’s not just me and the moon?

I admire those who do more things for the sake of it.

The friend who makes pasta by hand and hangs it around her house to dry on a Saturday. 

Another who plonks a block of clay on her dining table and winds up making a salt cellar or vase.

Another who takes their camera for long walks, capturing portraits of strangers in the golden hour. 

There’s a beautiful inefficiency to doing things for the sake of it. There’s a reverence for the process. There’s a stunning solitude. 

Some may say, well, you need ample time to do things just for the sake of it.

And I think, well, I could make the time and I still don’t.

Others may say, doing things just for the sake of it isn’t a priority.

And I think, but isn’t doing things for the sake of it the same as doing things for the love of it?

And isn’t love the point of everything? 

You can have all the talent, determination, work ethic, ambition, and drive, but if you don’t pay attention to what you love, it can all be a little empty.

I’ve felt a little empty lately, and so I’ve been wondering if doing things for the sake of it would shift the malaise.

To think of things I could do for the sake of it, I inspected what exactly these things have in common. 

And I realised they are all private joys. 

There is no immediate audience. They’re often done in solitude. There’s no deadline or demand from another person. 

Privacy might be what makes them so satisfying. In a society that comes with pressure to share or capture every moment, it can be freeing to keep some things quiet. 

And it might also be a determining factor in happiness. There was a study that asked hundreds of students to chronicle their vacation experience with photos. Those who voluntarily shared their photos on social media enjoyed their experience less than those who kept the photos for their own memories. It was suggested that sharing the photos introduces a pressure to show oneself in a positive light, which can corrode our satisfaction in experiences. 

The pressure to share, the demands on our time and the endless to-do lists can diminish the space we have, yet a private joy can be transformative.

It’s about the pleasure of creation rather than the convenience or usefulness. 

But it can also be marked stillness in a moment of beauty, awe or flow. 

We can be alone, doing something for the sake of it, and suddenly our alone time is filled with love, not loneliness.

Doing more things for the sake of it helps shed the obsession with numbers, with external validation, with borrowed notions of success.

The worth of a private joy doesn’t have to be earned, it’s already inherent—you’re doing it for the love of it.

I want to ask everyone I meet, what things do you do for the sake of it? What is your private joy? Say, when it’s just you and the moon, what do you do for love?