Finding Refuge

When I have the blues I have the urge to escape. To turn away from my down-in-the-dumps feeling and dissolve myself into food, work or a movie until I can't feel or see myself anymore.

This is unquestionably a learned behavior. I was given food (specifically Chinese takeout) when upset as a teenager. Workaholism was modeled before me in 60-70 hour work weeks. And the whole family got in the ritual of renting 5 or 6 movies from BlockBuster on Friday nights to help us cope with a long and difficult week of work and school.

Now, don't get me wrong. I see nothing wrong with good food (including greasy Chinese every once in a while), a strong work ethic, and getting lost in the storyline of a great film that allows you to suspend reality. What I personally struggle with though is not reflexively escaping any and every moment that is uncomfortable, and using food, work, movies (preferably bad romantic comedies) as a means to that end.

I remember once going to a talk at a local Buddhist organization when I was craving a spiritual community but was between churches at the time, and I heard the speaker share on the idea of "refuge." In the context of the talk the speaker was asking the group to consider the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha as the "three jewels" to take refuge in. I haven't been back to that organization in some time and I don't consider myself a Buddhist, but the idea behind that word "refuge" penetrated deeply inside me that day, and it has stayed with me since.

Buddhist teacher and psychologist Tara Brach, who I've referred to a few times in this blog, wrote a whole book on this topic called "True Refuge." She says "the yearning for such refuge is universal. It is what lies beneath all our wants and fears." The same fears I aim to escape with my food and work and movies, among other things. Ms. Brach, I would guess, would refer to my escapist tool box as "false refuges" because she believes "while they may provide a temporary sense of comfort or security, they create more suffering in the long run."

I tried to avoid my escapist urges this very morning. Mornings have always been difficult for me.  Not sure exactly why, but I seem to have this restless, agitated energy inside me several days out of the week in the early morning. Some days I barely notice it. Other days it feels like quite a burden. This morning was probably somewhere in-between. And food and vegetating in front of the t.v. were both options because the leftover Chinese was in the refrigerator, and it was just me and the baby up in the house, so the remote could have been all mine. But instead, I made a different choice. In the early morning hours I bundled up my daughter and walked her and I down to the river nearby our house.

It was one of those perfect New England early autumn mornings. Clear radiant blue sky. Sun streaming through the maple leaves that have already begun to turn red and orange and yellow- and if you are lucky, all three in one. The neighborhood was quiet save for a few dog walkers and a handful of folks who walk to the local Catholic Church for the early, early Sunday mass.

By the time we got to the river our noses were running a little and our finger tips were chilly, but otherwise we felt warm inside our too heavy coats.  And the walk had been worth it. Standing next to the river, holding my daughter, I felt like I could breathe again. It was like I had not been able to get enough oxygen into the deepest parts of my insides until I reached the river which was surrounded by beautiful woods and moss and wild flowers. But once there, I could feel my chest expanding as I filled up again with life.

I think Ms. Brach would say I took refuge this morning in "presence" which she defines as "the felt sense of wakefulness, openness, and tenderness that arises when we are fully here and now with our experience...It is immediate and embodied, perceived through our senses." Yes. And I would add, that by choosing to take refuge in presence, which for me more often than not is also nature, rather than choosing false refuge in my escapist trap doors, I was able to transcend that restless agitation I had begun my day with. Because when I returned home an hour later, I felt different. Better. Renewed. And I know for certain, that would not have been the case had I not stepped out, rather than crumpled in.

I want to continue to try to do this. I want to continue to seek refuge in times if trouble and uncertainty in a sustainable sanctuary, not a deliciously gratifying mirage. It is difficult though, even when the pay off is well worth it.

So I ask you, what false refuges would you be willing to give up as you too seek true refuge? What might be a first step toward such an endeavor?