The Most Precious Thing

A monk asked Ts'ao-shan, "What is the most precious thing in the world?"

He answered, "It is the skull of a dead cat on the ground."

The monk was surprised by this answer and again asked, "Why is the skull of a dead cat the most precious thing?"

Ts'ao-shan said, "It is beyond any value and price."

Commentary

In the preface to Case 2 of the Book of Serenity, Hongzhi Zhengjue wrote:

A man presented a jewel three times, but didn't escape punishment. When a luminous jewel is thrown to anyone, few do not draw their sword. For an impromptu guest, there is no impromptu host; what's appropriate provisionally is not appropriate for the real. If unusual treasures and rare jewels cannot be put to use, I'll bring out the head of a dead cat - look!

The "way-seeking mind" can wander forever in search of something special. Fortunately, keen-eyed teachers occasionally appear to pull us out of the weeds. Unfortunately, we usually resist these efforts.

Kong-an source: November/December 2009 Water Wheel (newsletter of Zen Center of Los Angeles)

Photo by Sydney Wired

Comments

[Mike]

"Way-seeking-mind". Great description. Always looking for something to do, some way to go about it. I am caught in that seeking. And you're right, we do resist the efforts of those keen-eyed teachers. So pathetic, isn't it?

[Ted Biringer]

Hello Barry,

Thanks again for another tasty tid-bit.

Occasionally I notice how some tiny, fleeting, seemingly insignificant thing--a broken screw, a smudge on the wall, a piece of lint in the corner--shines and shimmers as the wholeness of Existence-Time, as the entirety of Buddha-nature itself. This reminds me of something "Louie Wing" once said:

"The world will take on a whole new significance. Some things that seemed important before, like personal wealth or prestige become meaningless, while the most unlikely, ordinary things, like rocks, the barking of dogs, a cup of tea, are suddenly experienced in almost supernatural splendor.

The flower, the oak tree, and the dry clump of dirt, as well as the call of the dove, the scent of newly mown grass, even a slice of bologna, are experienced in their reality as particular aspects of all time and space coming forth here and now. The vast and fathomless universe, the infinite void, referred to as emptiness, is manifested as each speck of dust.

Emptiness can be likened to a tree, the many things of the universe, as the flowers of that tree. As plum trees only generate plum tree flowers, so emptiness only generates emptiness flowers. The universe generates flowers of the universe. A world is a flower of the universe, a flea is a flower of the universe; dreams, fears, houses, books, and all the many things are flowers of the universe, flowers of emptiness. You read with the eyes of the universe, speak with the voice of the universe, love with the love of the universe."
~The Flatbed Sutra of Louie Wing

Yes! Thanks again.

Peace,
Ted

[Barry Briggs]

Thank you, Ted, for sharing this remarkably beautiful passage from The Flatbed Sutra with us. Right now: Writing with the love of the universe!

Barry

[puerhan]

...especially in search of a special me! ;-)

pass the tea please.

_/\_

[Barry Briggs]

Enjoy "your" tea, "my" friend!