Refuge & Bodhichitta

Taking Refuge and Setting Intentions 

Taking refuge and setting the intention for realizing bodhicitta is something that is strongly recommended and suggested before engaging in any practice. Bodhicitta serves to counteract the tendency we have of trying to get something from our practice—whether it’s some form of personal gain or emotional benefit. This is something worth reflecting on, especially as we begin any form of spiritual practice. If we constantly remind ourselves of the purpose of taking refuge, it provides a grounding force. It’s something that everyone must figure out for themselves.

Our understanding of what we take refuge in can change over time. At this moment, you may be taking refuge in something mundane, such as watching Netflix, or something seemingly benign. However, refuge, at its core, is about calling on and resting into something that holds and supports us. It’s about bringing our awareness and attention to the heart area, to the heart-mind, and opening ourselves to the possibility that even if we’re having a difficult day or feel disconnected, even if we’re merely going through the motions, the effort we make in practicing might still benefit some being—whether it’s a family member, a friend, or even your pet, like a dog or cat. This is the essence of refuge.

The following is an example of a refuge prayer, but feel free to recite whatever is meaningful to you.

“With a wish for all beings to be free—free of the contraction and constriction of held thought patterns and belief systems. 

Free of the automatic reactivity of learned and held emotional patterns, and free of distorted perception. 

I will always go for refuge to alive, vibrant, radiant, spacious awareness until awareness is ongoing, like the flow of a river, enthused by wisdom and compassion. 

Today, in the presence of all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, of any lineage, or none at all, I generate the mind of full awakening for the benefit of all beings. 

As long as space remains, as long as beings remain, may I manifest in such a way to ease and dispel the miseries in the universe.”

Commentary on Refuge and Bodhicitta

Now, in my practice, I often envision a beautiful form of Quan Am, although sometimes it is not exactly her. Sometimes it may manifest more as Tara, or even Cundi—the mother of seven million Buddhas. Whether we visualize a male form or female form isn’t important. What is more important is that who we envision is the embodiment of compassion, beyond the usual dualistic thinking of male and female.

In traditional practice, the teachings emphasize how everything in our lives is fluid and transient. In the midst of feeling overwhelmed by life’s challenges—when everything seemed to collapse and we may feel a sense of despair—we may find that, despite all the chaos, we are able to experience a profound sense of open-hearted connectedness. This is wonderful, because so often, we think that when we practice, we must experience warmth and connection all the time. We think the goal is to always feel that sense of open-heartedness and peace, to stay in that feeling.

However, life doesn’t always give us that. There will be times when things don’t feel right. There will be moments of pain, emotional suffering, or deep mental anguish. It’s during these times that I often try to hold on to that sense of peace or openness, but it becomes elusive when I try to force it. The reality is that this practice teaches us how to remain present in the messiness of life. It’s not about forcing ourselves into feeling a certain way or chasing after something fleeting. It’s about staying present and resting in openness—even when the experience is not what we expected.

Even when everything feels like a disaster, and we are overwhelmed with discomfort, we can still find presence and awareness. This presence doesn’t eliminate the pain or suffering, but it provides a wider container for us to be with it. It shows us that there is openness even in the midst of suffering. Over time, the intensity of suffering may lessen, but the goal is not to eliminate suffering altogether. The goal is to experience life fully, with all of its ups and downs, and to learn how to stay with that.

We often begin our practices by recalling a time when we felt a sense of complete open-heartedness—perhaps when we saw a baby, a puppy, a kitten, or a breathtaking sunset after a long hike. These moments of connection are beautiful, but often, we get attached to them, thinking that the key to happiness lies in finding those moments again.

But Bodhicitta, at its core, is not about feeling compassion in the conventional way. It’s not just about caring for others in the way that we typically define it. It’s about understanding the interconnectedness of all beings. We often search for something outside ourselves to fill a perceived emptiness, whether it’s through external experiences or relationships. But Bodhicitta teaches us that the love and connection we seek are not found in external objects. They are present within us right here and right now.

This is a hard truth for many of us to face. We crave love, and we often look for it in relationships—whether it’s romantic love, love from our children, love from our friends, or love from our family members. These attachments can give us temporary glimpses of the open-heartedness we desire, but they are not the ultimate answer. These attachments don’t satisfy us in the way we hope they will.

When we connect with Bodhicitta, we begin to realize that the interconnectedness and open-heartedness we crave are not somewhere “out there.” They are right here, inside us. They are always present.

There’s a lot of anger, fear, and confusion in the world today. But let’s not fool ourselves into thinking that this is something new. These emotions have always been present in varying degrees throughout history. Sometimes they are more pronounced; sometimes they are less so. However, when we experience anger or fear—especially in the current global climate—our best response is to remain present with these emotions. We can sit with them, allowing them to be, rather than running away or trying to escape from them.

When you are feeling anger or fear, feel free to call on the presence of Quan Am or any other being you resonate with. There are countless beings—whether they are realized bodhisattvas or teachers—who are tirelessly working to alleviate the suffering in this world. They have been offering their compassion, wisdom, and presence for lifetimes. But we must also recognize that anger, fear, and suffering are part of the human experience. They are not something to shy away from.

When we rest in the understanding that all beings are interconnected, we begin to see that we are not isolated in our suffering. Even in moments of fear, there is the potential for aliveness and richness. These moments, though difficult, can serve as opportunities for us to recognize the vastness of our experience. We do not wish this experience on anyone, but we do recognize that, in these intense moments, there is a fullness of life that we might otherwise miss.

For the Quan Am practice, our wish for us is to open ourselves to the rays of loving compassion from all Buddhas and bodhisattvas. May they touch all beings, especially those who are suffering. And may we remember to offer this practice of compassion again and again, knowing that we are not separate from each other. We are all in this together, and we are connected in our shared humanity.

It’s natural for us to try to protect ourselves with anger, fear, and other reactive emotions. These reactions are often ways to shield ourselves from perceived harm. However, these emotional defenses don’t help us connect with others. What we can do instead is allow ourselves to rest in the open-heartedness that is always present, even when emotions like anger and fear arise. We don’t need to push them away; we simply allow them to be, without identifying with them.

In doing so, we open ourselves to the wisdom that naturally arises when we let go of control and surrender to the present moment. Wisdom isn’t about analyzing or figuring things out. It’s about recognizing the open spaciousness of the heart and mind, where all things arise and pass away.

When we acknowledge that we cannot control everything in life, we begin to free ourselves from the burden of trying to hold on to things. We stop clinging to fixed outcomes and instead allow the natural flow of life to guide us. This doesn’t mean we give up on our intentions or goals, but we cease trying to control every detail.

It is a challenging process, but there is tenderness in it. When we stop struggling against the uncontrollable aspects of life, we create space for something new to emerge. This is not about surrendering to defeat; it’s about releasing the need to control everything. In doing so, we make room for a deeper, more expansive wisdom to arise.

We all have a natural desire for certainty and control, but life is inherently uncertain. Yet, if we can rest in that uncertainty, we allow ourselves to be open to the wisdom that comes from simply being present with whatever arises.