In Buddhism there is the practice of taking refuge in the Buddha. But what does this actually mean?
In our ordinary lives we are constantly taking refuge in something — seeking comfort and relief from the pressures of existence in whatever is most readily available. Screens, alcohol, social media, endless distraction. These things are not inherently wrong in moderation. But they share a common quality: they turn us away from our experience rather than toward it. They numb rather than illuminate. And they do not, in the end, solve anything.
Taking refuge in the Buddha is an invitation to do something different. It is not a request to place faith in an external being who will intervene and dissolve our difficulties. Buddhism is quite clear on this point: nothing outside of ourselves will do that work for us. Taking refuge in the Buddha means taking refuge in his teachings — in the understanding that suffering is unavoidable, that it is also workable, and that the only genuine way through our tribulations is to face them with consciousness and equanimity.
The lotus cannot grow without mud. Suffering, met honestly, cultivates understanding and compassion. And without understanding and compassion there is no lasting happiness — only the superficial, fleeting kind that relocates the moment circumstances change.
More than that, taking refuge in the Buddha is taking refuge in the Buddha within — the awareness that is always already present in us, accessible at any moment, requiring no special conditions.
One of the most direct doorways to that awareness is the breath. The breath is always here. It reconnects us to the body we spend most of our lives ignoring. It anchors us in the present moment when the mind has wandered into past or future. It is, in the most literal sense, a doorway to awakening — available anywhere, at any time, without cost or prerequisite.
A simple practice: breathe in consciously and know that you are breathing in. Breathe out consciously and know that you are breathing out. That is it. Not as a technique to master but as an act of returning — uniting body and mind, quieting the inner turbulence, remembering what is actually here.
The Buddha you are taking refuge in was never outside you. The breath is simply the reminder.