be a writer, go to a remote cabin near the cold and dangerous Norwegian sea, early autumn and just - write. my typewriter would be placed in front of the window, so i could see the rage and fury of the autumn and winterstorms as they were tearing the sea apart.
I could also see the cold nighs color when snow crystals starts to glow, and the aurora borealis are chasing the stars on the sky, with grace and beauty as it's dancing happily through the night to the sound from the open fireplace behind me.
I could go out fishing and hunting to get food, and i could go skiing and just enjoy the beauty of the nature and life itself, while i could think about how lucky i was to be able to experience all of this beauty, and what a rich life i really was living.
then when spring came and the flowers began to bloom in all its beauty again. I could go back to civilization as a richer man, and sell the book and relax and grilling in my meditation garden while spending time with my family and friends.