Busyness is the opposite of contentment. Maybe that's not true because it's not discontentment. To be busy is to be alone, to be strung tightly from point to point and there's more joy in a snapped line drooping at both ends than in a taut one. The best moments I can think of are ones with a drifty quality, waking up in bed with nothing to do and nowhere to go, not because I enjoy slothfulness but because I lie there entertaining thoughts I don't have time for when I'm chasing the next moment. Busyness is all time and you may forget your troubles in your busyness, though that's rare enough, but you won't forget time. To live outside of time...
"Let's quit our lives for 3 days, only 3, and be together, and then we'll get new lives."
"But we'd still have to write."
I beat the shit out of myself for feeling time, but treat myself well when I forget it. Forgetting it, though, makes it all the worse when you remember again.