The other day, I went to pilates class, and the front desk guy wasn’t wearing a mask; I got so angry at him for endangering me, everyone else – “wear a fucking mask” I thought, “it’s the fucking law!”

Later, thinking about the situation again, a question popped into my head, if everyone were already masking, would there even need to be a law?  There are only laws when folks are already doing, or not doing, the thing forbidden or required. A law proves the thing it legislates isn’t standard, its not universal, and it is already being done/not done.

Anyway, don’t I break the law/rules too? I value rules so much –when I agree with them.  But when I don’t, I casually disregard them the same as the anti-maskers disregard masks. I constantly j-walk, I speed, I use medical weed recreationally. When a rule meets my standards, when I can see how it is important, I follow it. Otherwise, whatevez. When I j-walk on a blazing red pedestrian sign, why do I do it? Because I can use my own two eyes to look both ways and determine if there is a car. The rule is unnecessary, stupid.

And what about the front desk guy not wearing a mask? I don’t know his reasons, but surely he has them. Everyone does. Some folks think they are healthy and strong, so why wear a mask? Some folks think it should be personal responsibility, if you want to wear a mask fine, but don’t legislate my body. Hell, turn on Fox news, plenty of folks don’t even think Covid is real – so why on earth would they mask? Why should I even expect them to? Because it’s the law?

A few weeks later, my mom comes to visit. She wanted to see me since we hadn’t been face-to-face since before Covid. I was too afraid to get on a plane myself, but she was willing to brave it. Me, still deeply Covid cautious, agreed to the visit on strict terms: She wear an n95 on the plane, test before and after arrival, we mask and stick to outdoor activities. Super strict shit, stricter than her own usual standards at home, but standards she vowed she would uphold for the chance to see me.

Mom arrives and for one of our outings, I take her to an outdoor concert in a local park. Its outdoors, so mask laws don’t apply, still looking around I see different folks have different standards for Covid safety. Some folks (like me) still mask. Others don’t. Some folks sit on blankets far from the crowd, while other folks choose close together seats near the stage. Some people are clearly just with their family units, others are obviously using the concert as an occasion for a large gathering of friends.

My mom wants to dance, so I agree, as long as we choose a spot away from the crowd. As we are dancing, there is a toddler that notices my mom and wants to come up and dance with her. My mom, instead of shooing the unmasked germ bucket (aka child) away, dances with her. I was livid, beyond angry: My mom promised to be Covid careful, how in the hell could she go and do something so OBVIOUSLY risky? With the presence of mind to avoid just screaming at my mom, I told her I was tiered, excused myself from the dance, and went to sit on a bench away for the crowd to calm down.

As I calmed myself, I looked out over the crowd, again noticing how everyone is behaving differently, in accordance with their sense of risk. It’s not just about laws and rules, after all, all of my state’s Covid rules had been lifted for outdoor events by this time. It’s the fact that everyone has their own standard for Covid precautions. And the truth is, why wouldn’t they? Everyone has their own health situations, they get information from different sources, they have their own politics, their own beliefs, their own education levels. They have their own vaccination status, their own history with covid and other diseases, their own family situations to attend to, their own priorities for their life, their own risk tolerance…

The even bigger question is why in the hell would my mom be any different from any of these other folks? Why do I expect her to follow my risk tolerance, my set of covid safety standards? Why should I assume these would be obvious to her? The answer became obvious to me: Because she is mine!

But what the hell does being mine even mean? My mom, like everyone else has her own health situations, information sources, politics, beliefs, education levels. Her own history with disease, her own priorities and risk tolerance, all shaped by her life. She has her own unique circumstances, that give rise to her covid safety standards, that are totally different than my own.

Being ‘mine’, is just an arbitrary tag I give her. It is the expectation that for no other reason than the fact I dub her my own, she will act according to my standards, born of my unique circumstances instead of her own.

Suddenly, all my anger at my mom just disappeared. I realized that I had completely insane, and unrealistic expectations for her; it was beyond silly for me to be angry at her for not meeting these impossible expectations. What is more, I realized she had already done a lot. She had already gone way further than most would to  accommodate me and my crazy covid safety standards just to spend time with me. In this world, how many people would even bother to do that? I suddenly felt deep gratitude to my mom for her efforts.

Over the next few days, my mom and I enjoyed a wonderful visit together. In fact, years later, we now have a mostly pleasant and easy relationship, which is a marked difference from the 40+ years that came before. I realize that when I stopped expecting she would follow my standards, and when I stopped feeling that I always had to defend myself and my standards against her standards (like it was some imaginary war to prove who was right), I stopped getting angry at her. When I stopped getting angry, I stopped stirring shit. When I stopped shit stirring, there was nothing to spark a cycle of bickering and fighting that had been going on since I was a kid, it was just over.

Obviously, this turned out to be one of those big real-life results of dhamma practice that has made my life a lot better. But also something I know I need to continue to learn from. Afterall, its not just my mom…what shred of proof do I have that I should expect anyone or anything to act as I want – according to my standards – when everything/one acts according to their own unique circumstances? My standards are arbitrary, shaped by my circumstances, and yet again and again I find myself indignant. So sure I am right and others are wrong. So convinced of what I deserve, of what will happen, of my power to drive and shape the world as I see fit. Of my power to own, to pown, what I claim. And yet, over and over, I get evidence to the contrary. Evidence that even ‘my’ closest, most intimate ‘possessions’ – my own mother – won’t bow to my rules. Why do I hold out hope for anything else?