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!