Hobby rich

In Korean, there's a word: 취미부자 (chwimi buja). Literally, "hobby rich" — someone with an abundance of hobbies.

These days, one of the first things that comes up when I meet friends is hobbies. Talking about what we love seems to make everyday life feel a little richer. Someone got into running. Someone else started getting serious about coffee. Before you know it, you're drawn in too — and people with similar interests naturally find their way to each other. Sometimes an hour goes by and that's all we talked about.

But not everyone moves at the same pace in those moments. Some people listen more than they speak. Some hover at the edge of the conversation. It's not that they don't have interests — they probably do. Maybe the timing was off. Maybe their thing just didn't come up. Or maybe they're in a season where nothing has quite grabbed them yet.

There's also something subtler going on. Some hobbies spread like trends. And when you're not part of that wave, it's easy to feel slightly out of step. Hobbies are personal, and enjoyment should be enough. But the social layer around them can make it complicated.

Still, there are moments in those conversations that feel different from the rest.

Someone is deep into talking about something they love, and then they stop and say:

"You know who would love this? ___." "This would be so much better with you there."

That's not just sharing information. That's thinking of someone else while you're in the middle of your own joy. Wanting to bring them into it. That, to me, is what 취미부자 (chwimi buja). actually means.

We usually call someone "rich" when they have a lot of something. But having a lot was never really the point. It's what you do with it. The willingness to share, to pass something along, to think of someone else mid-enjoyment — that kind of generosity creates something accumulation never does. So maybe 취미부자 isn't the person with the longest list of hobbies. It's the person who, somewhere in the middle of doing something they love, thinks: you'd love this too.

Enjoying something alone is its own kind of richness. It adds texture to life in ways that are hard to explain. But when that enjoyment makes you think of someone — when it turns into we should do this together — something expands.

One question like that can add something new to someone's week. Maybe their year. Hobbies are worth having for yourself. But the ones you end up sharing — those tend to stay with you longer.