After fear, fatigue, stress, noise — after any strong emotion — I seek refuge.
Not escape. Refuge.
A place where my nervous system softens and my breath returns to its natural rhythm. Where I can (re)discover who I am beneath the noise.
I find refuge in nature, in sport, and in music.
Standing among trees, listening to silence or birds, watching the ocean — I’m reminded that nothing is fixed. Leaves fall. Seasons turn. Storms pass.
Lifting weights, running, swimming — I am reminded of the physical aspect of change. Every scar, wrinkle, muscle tear, and tattoo is a witness to my experience — to being alive. My body keeps the score.
Listening to classical music, I am moved by the beauty and genius of human creation — the ability to tell a story and evoke profound emotion through a landscape of notes and sound, and through the mastery of artists who give those notes breath and life.
These three spaces have been my refuge for years. They remind me of one essential truth:
I am who I am.
Messy. Awkward. Struggling at times.
And also kind. Funny (I think). Caring.
Imperfect. Impermanent. Me.
Whenever I feel lost, overwhelmed, or simply too busy to live, I try to find my way back to refuge. To trust myself again. To appreciate this imperfect life. To accept myself and my reality as they are.
This has been my growth. It happens quietly — and often with effort, sweat, and tears.
I know each of us may find refuge in different places. I’ve heard it in countless conversations — from weekends of dancing, to prayer, to silent retreat. And everything in between.
For me, refuge is where we stop fighting what is changing — and start breathing with it.
Sometimes it is the decision to embrace who we are — imperfect, unfinished, becoming.
Sometimes it is the courage to say: This is me.
Where do you find refuge?
Much love, Raf
