I suppose, for me, having work to do, doing it well, and having at least bearable individuals to share the work with is part of my happiness. The work takes your mind off of yourself. Flowing in something outside of yourself is often better than stagnation within. I'm speaking from a place of having Covid interrupt all my life plans and being stuck at home with nothing to do. Just waiting for my efforts to get going again to be digested by the gatekeepers. It's quite depressing. This is odd, because I don't necessarily love my work. But I love the challenge of waking early to get as much painting done as possible before going to work. I love buying bags of ice to plunge myself in after work, so I can wake as fresh as possible for painting the next day. Colin Wilson wrote something about this in his "Superconsciousness". It was something related to a sort of gravity that holds your socks up. Somehow being home all day, able to paint and read as much as I want, takes something out of it.