Do a little of what you love every day. Really, it's all you have to offer in return for this life, even if you feel you owe nothing to this world because it's been so bloody hard (then double points to you for spending five minutes, ten minutes, in love with something you've created--that's wild and brave and daring).
A little can be a little or a lot--see, that's the beauty of it. In my world, finding a quarter on the sidewalk is a pretty sweet deal. For others? They'd leave it there--not worth the trouble to pick up. That's okay. That's their working definition of what's worthwhile.
The point? Do what you love. One minute a day. Seven. Sixteen hours. You're the boss and you set the schedule.
You're not always at the mercy of someone else's clock. And the love, the art, the forest, the light will wait.
But not forever. It needs to be fed and will die, distressingly quickly, when given nothing for light but screens and devices, nothing for breath but central heating and circulated air.