That sensation of low key happiness, some traditions call it serenity, most definitely comes from within. I don't know how many times I thought "I'll be happy when I leave this apartment", and yet here I am, in a completely different situation, yet my feelings are just the same: uneasiness, worrying about my grandmother, dejectedness.

My first week of freedom started with two or three days of magic and then eased back into this state of (lack of) affection. I know where it comes from. I've worried too much. I've dealt with it through weed, abundant food and sleep. But that doesn't address the root of the problem.

When I was with my grandmother, I used to meditate a lot, I would write in my journal (my notebook) every day, I hit the gym every day, however briefly. I searched for at least a little bit of beauty every day. In this new circumstance I haven't done maintenance work required to reach serenity.

I did sign up for a week long try out at a nearby yoga studio. I've been attending classes daily. I've been exploring the lakeshore with the dog, it has a beautiful path where we run together. I've been speaking to neighbors and strangers. I've been enjoying cooking, and also sleeping until I can't sleep anymore, which today was 8:30am.

As I write this I notice yet again: I am not living in the present moment. These are my vacations yet I'm not here, sometimes I still go back to my grandmother. Why? Because the monkey mind is picking at the wound, it is simply a matter of coming back to the breath, to come back to spiritual practice and find the serenity I'm looking for.