Refuge, Not Shield

I've been caught up in creating content about Buddhist practice while neglecting the practice itself. This episode explores the difference between using teachings as a refuge (where you actually dwell) versus a shield (something to hide behind), and why returning to the basics—breath, body, presence—might be the most honest path forward. 

Connect with Be Your Own Zen Master:

Web: byozm.blog

IG : @beyourownzenmaster

YT: @byozm

If this episode resonated with you, please subscribe and leave a review. Share it with someone who might benefit from these reflections.

© 2025 Be Your Own Zen Master

Transcript

Hello friends. My name is Justin, and welcome to Be Your Own Zen Master.

My intention with this podcast is to share reflections on my practice—what I've learned, how I might improve, and hopefully to offer some encouragement for your own path. So if you'll join me, let's take a few moments to breathe together.

I've been reading Guo Gu's book The Essence of Chan, which explores Bodhidharma's teaching on "Two Entrances and Four Practices." There's a passage that's been sitting with me:

"We must practice without chasing after enlightenment. If we devote our life to being free from vexations and at the same time devote ourselves to helping others, then it is possible for us to awaken... Practice is about learning to live one's life in accordance with the Dharma—not as a yardstick for others, but as a principle and guide. The essence cannot be taught; it must be realized in practice."

That phrase keeps coming back to me: live one's life in accordance with the Dharma. Not study it, not talk about it, not create content about it—live it.

And honestly, I haven't been doing that very well.

For a while, I was caught up in sharing teachings, writing scripts, posting quotes. It felt meaningful at first. I was filtering out negativity, focusing on wisdom, trying to pass along something positive. But somewhere along the way, I started clinging to all of that. The teachings became less like a refuge—a place where I actually lived—and more like a shield I could hide behind.

When life got busier, when I couldn't keep up with the content creation, everything started falling apart. Instead of simply living with the Dharma as part of daily life, I was desperately trying to grasp it, to get back to something that couldn't really be grasped in the first place.

And when you're not present—when you're resisting what's actually happening—things come out sideways. For me that meant depression, anxiety, and anger. All the things I thought I was protecting myself from.

The problem was that I wasn't doing the most basic thing: sitting and breathing. I had all these ideas about practice, all these ways of sharing practice, but I wasn't actually practicing.

So I'm going back to what's simple and sustainable. And by simple, I don't mean easy—I mean direct, uncomplicated, honest.

Wherever I go, I have my breath and my body. I can sit down, breathe, and just be present with whatever is actually happening in this moment. Not what I think should be happening, not what I wish were happening, but what is. That's the foundation everything else grows from.

This doesn't mean abandoning all the teaching and sharing. But it does mean getting my priorities straight. The practice comes first. The living comes first. Everything else—the podcasts, the posts, the conversations about the path—those are what naturally arise when you're actually walking the path, not trying to perform it.

There's something Guo Gu writes about earnestness that really strikes me. He talks about having "a deep yearning to resolve one's own problems." Not to fix everyone else's problems, not to become some kind of spiritual teacher or guru, but to genuinely work with your own stuff. To be real about where you're struggling and to show up for that work consistently.

That's what I've been missing. The earnestness. The commitment to my own practice before worrying about anyone else's. It sounds obvious when I say it, but it's surprisingly easy to get it backwards—to become so focused on sharing wisdom that you forget to actually cultivate it.

And practice, real practice, has to be sustainable. It has to be something I can do when I'm tired, when I'm busy, when I'm not feeling particularly spiritual or inspired. It has to work on ordinary Tuesday mornings and during stressful deadlines and in the middle of arguments with people I love.

The breath is always available. The body is always here. Awareness doesn't require any special equipment or perfect conditions. That's the beauty of keeping it simple—you can't lose track of what's essential because it's always right there with you.

The podcast, the social media, the sharing, the reflection—none of that is the practice itself. It's just what happens when you live from that foundation of simplicity and presence. A refuge isn't something you perform or display; it's where you actually dwell, day after day, breath by breath.

So that's where I am now—learning to dwell there first, before trying to share anything about it. Learning to live the practice before talking about the practice.

And maybe you're in a similar place. Maybe you've found yourself performing your spiritual life instead of living it, or clinging to ideas about practice instead of just practicing. Maybe you've been so busy talking about the path that you've forgotten to walk it. If any of this resonates, I'd invite you to join me in coming back to what's simple: your breath, your body, this moment.

That's really all we have anyway. That's really all we need.

Thank you for joining me today, and thank you for your patience as I figure this out alongside you. If you're finding value in these reflections, please share the podcast with someone who might benefit. And remember: be your own Zen master, and keep it simple.