I once visited an aging jazz musician in New York City. Jane had traveled the world and performed with great artists, but now she was bedridden and living in a tiny apartment with only one small window. For companionship, she had a piano and a caregiver who came once a day. Her circumstances seemed grim, but when I asked Jane if she was happy, she broke into a big grin and pointed to her brain. She said, “I have everything I need to be happy right between my ears.”