Living is an art. I grew up in a very rich neighborhood, and despite their wealth, many were troubled. Tons of high functioning drug addicts, alcoholics, Hoarders, narcissists, etc. it was kind of surreal.

We also had a family friend who was poor, not verge of homelessness poor, but impoverished relative to the town we lived. Like everyone, he had his fair share of problems, and worked a lot, but he was happy. Very few things deeply troubled him and he always maintained a calm and collected demeanor. Extremely intelligent too. When I was down, upset, angry, or outright furious, he was always there to impart his wisdom, and I am a better man for it.

Seemingly few people recognize the crucial art of living. Not to live without problems but live in spite of them. So many miserable, privileged people I’ve met in that town.