The storehouse of treasures opens of itself.
You may take them and use them any way you wish.

—PZI Miscellaneous Koan

Throughout my life I have thought of treasure as something rare and special: the surprise in the Cracker Jacks box, the gold ring that catches my eye as I dig in the garden. Gold that glimmers in the sun is treasure; a piece of tin, ordinary and discolored, not so much.

For children, such distinctions do not figure in. A twig, a stone, that piece of tin, a toy that has been handled beyond recognition, a blanket, an old bone—heck, everything is treasure.

“The voice of the cuckoo is calling you home,” writes Dongshan. The universe calls us. Not only birds—the trees, the stones, the grass in my fields, the horses in my barn, they too call me home. My German shepherd hears a dog across the valley and he responds: WOOF! a cascading call and response.

Reality calls to us in and through things we might deem pleasurable, but she also calls through the not-so-pleasurable bit. And that is it: life is generous, is opening, and is calling. This universe—abundant, active, and alive—wants to be experienced. What is more, as I perceive and respond to this call, I know in my bones that I am not separate from anything.

In the precepts of Zen, there is “I vow not to steal.” In the world of form I take something that is not mine. I guess that is stealing. Don’t do it. In the world of not-separate, the home we find in the vastness, where is there ownership? What appears in the here and now is open to you, not separate. In this storehouse of treasures that is your life, take them and use them any way you wish.

—David Parks

COME JOIN US on Thursdays for koan meditation, dharma talk and conversation. All are welcome. Register to participate.

David Parks Roshi, Director of Bluegrass Zen