Refuge in wakefulness

What do we take refuge in? What is it wise to take refuge in?

In Buddhism, it is said that there are three refuges we could rely on: buddha, dhamma, and sangha. We can understand these as:

• The wakeful mind (Buddha)
• The teachings that lead to a wakeful mind (dhamma)
• The community of practitioners that value and help each other to develop wakefulness (sangha).

So, what do I take refuge in? It's true that, on a deep and sometimes abstract level, I take refuge in Buddha, dhamma, and sangha. The wakeful, nonclinging mind is something I really appreciate when it's here.

I dive into these ancient teachings with fascination, though recently I have wondered if reading and thinking less about the teachings—obsessing less—would help. My old poetry professor swore that he couldn't write poetry during the six months of the year when he was teaching poetry. To teach, he felt, meant taking the poetry mechanism apart to probe its workings, whereby it could no longer function. He said it was the same for every poet–teacher he knew. Maybe the same applies to the dharma.

Finally, the community of practitioners can be a great resource when it's functioning well, and I love my dhamma friends and having people to talk about and practice these ideas with.

Here it comes...

If I'm honest though, I do take refuge in a few things that I know aren't reliable and perhaps take energy away from places where it would be better used. I like tinkering with computers. I like playing video games with my friends. I probably put too much time into little projects like this website or making videos. I like the intellectual stimulation of these activities. Some of this I feel is in the process of relaxing. The compulsion and drivenness are weaker and there is more awareness, more space around what I'm doing.

There is also the momentary kind of refuge we try to take in sensory pleasure. When I'm tired of sitting down and squeezing my brain at the laptop, it's easy to wander over to the snack cupboard for a boost in energy and stimulation. But these days I find I don't get that much from a nice taste. Coffee is about the only thing that does it, and it has to be good coffee. I used to get a lot from alcohol-free beer and chocolate increasingly feel indifferent. I enjoy a good meal with fresh veg, a curry, a nice sandwich, but the pleasure from this is fleeting and not a basis for obsession or meaning. On the other hand, maybe I could try to savour and appreciate these experiences more.

Disenchantment is actually quite nice

This may seem like a diminishment but I see it as a disenchantment, a loss of interest in the trivial and temporary, and less suffering and preoccupation. When we hear the word "disenchantment", life may seem glum or prosaic. But actually, it's a freedom from all the crazy investments we make, the ideas and insistences that will never pay off. It's freedom from getting snagged in the reeds again. Life and awareness flow smoothly downriver, for a time at least.

Furthermore, preoccupation with the senses is replaced, often, by a coolness and a peace and contentment that is more healing and pleasant than obsession—whether with food, games, drama, doomscrolling. These things have their value, but they are not a refuge. They cannot solve your existential problems and, if mishandled, drain energy from the reflections and deepening in stillness that actually helps.

So I do feel that Buddha, dhamma, sangha are a truer refuge, a better place to look for happiness, than optimising all the ever–changing boring details of the world. Of course we still care, we still act, but we don't look for refuge in the world being a certain way.