Pager Practice

In my work I carry a pager. When I began to sit zazen, I viewed my pager as a formidable impediment to practice. How could you sit in stillness, focusing the mind, when at any moment a shrill beeping could interrupt? But then, I realized that although pages are like boulders dropped in the taught still pond, those beeps must point to the existence of that stillness! It seemed to me that the mind states invoked by the pager’s summons could have merit in the daily practice of a householder. Thus, I began pager practice.

As my pager practice settled, I began to notice mind states familiar to me from zazen. First there was aversion. Why was I being paged all? There was anger at the existence of pagers in general, and the one attached to my belt in particular. Pleasant mind states arose after being paged with good news. There was also attachment to consider, the pathological inability of going anywhere without the pager, even if I need not carry it at the moment. Next, there was picking and choosing. Should I set the pager on vibrate or audible mode, and which ring tone? Should I save some messages? I deleted them all, and then lost my focus, with monkey pager-mind ruminating about pages lost and those yet to come.

As time continued, it slowly dawned on me that pager practice is simply a manifestation of modern householder practice: the reality of children, work, and cleaning up the dishes. These commitments, gladly shouldered as obligations of being in the world, bring intrusions fused with practice opportunities to a householder. The pager beeps, focus returns!

Two Views of Self

"Of course there is no us and them
But them they do not think the same"

Illumination
Gogol Bordello

How to observe the first vow in the face of violence? "All beings without number, I vow to liberate" What should be our response to suicide bombers, torturers, and those who deliberately inflict violence on others? Clearly, if you sit on the zafu, you cannot do violence. But what of those who do not sit? How to engage them is not clear, aside from simply being in the moment. What is a Zen response to the janjaweed in Darfur?

Empty

Empty mind

Empty day

Empty zazen

Strike the student bell

Ten thousand things are here!

Change of Season

Autumn tastes like change and transformation. Leaves fall, the plants and squirrels sleep. We plant bulbs and hope for blossoms in spring. Zazen takes on a serious tenor, sitting like a mountain awaiting a blanket of snow. I take out my warm under-robe for sitting in the zendo. No hibernation for Mu!

Snowflakes fall within the smell of incense
Can you smell spring?

Falling Away

Autumn is here, and the Japanese maple outside is bright red. The leaves fall away one by one, and litter the grass. Zazen takes on a crisp new hue in the cold morning air. The family asleep upstairs, a sunrise outside, and a cat on the windowsill. Breathe in... breathe out.... fall away.

Householder Zazen

As a householder, finding space for zazen is hard. The distractions and demands of family and work make it difficult. Most teachers recommend setting aside a special space for zazen, uncluttered, light, and free of distractions. I suspect they have no children, nor live in a smaller house. Perhaps fitting, my cushion and mat are in nestled in a family area, facing a curtained window, with my back to the scattered toys. My children's schedule changes, and so! The time set aside for zazen is taken by a different obligation. Ho! Time to beg for new space.