Today I escaped early in the morning for a 7am yoga class at a nearby studio. My mind was on my grandmother. The last time I had an escapade, she got up from bed and went into the kitchen to prepare herself coffee. I came up to find the stove turned on and a bit of a mess, it was a scare but nothing bad happened. This was about ten days ago, and I stopped escaping until I observed her patterns better.

As I was walking back home from the yoga studio, I thought that the experience had been not so great because I was worrying too much. Perhaps if I practiced yoga in the exercise room of the building I'd be less worried.

Then I noticed the sun had come out, the air was fresh, I was walking through a new neighborhood. I thought: why am I taking my grandmother to the yoga studio? The choice was already made, there was nothing to worry about. If anything happened at the apartment, it already happened, and worrying about it only detracts from my experience. My grandmother may be a difficult person, but I'm the one bringing her with me when I worry about her when I go out.

There seems to be an important degree of responsibility for one's own experience. One could say "my girlfriend makes my life miserable by making me jealous all the time" or "my son worries me because he hangs out with the wrong friends". I guess the Buddhists would say my suffering is self-inflicted, I suffer because I have an ego, but to them I would say: let me exchange your monastery for my monastery, and let's speak afterwards.