“Tathagata” means “those who have experienced the tathata,” which is, “as it is”: those who have experienced “as it is.” In other words, the idea of tathagata is a way of inspiration, a starting point; it tells us that other people have already made it, that others have already experienced it. This instinct has already inspired someone, the instinct of “awake,” of openness, of coolness in the sense of intelligence.
The path of the bodhisattva is for those who are brave and convinced of the powerful reality of the tathagata-nature which exists within themselves. Those actually awakened by such an idea as “tathagata” are on the Bodhisattva Path, the path of the brave warrior who trusts in his potential to complete the journey, who trusts in the Buddha-nature. The word “bodhisattva” means: “he who is brave enough to walk on the path of the bodhi.” “Bodhi” means “awake,” “the awakened state.” This is not to say that the bodhisattva must already be fully awake; but he is willing to walk the path of the awakened ones.
This path consists of six transcendental activities which take place spontaneously. They are: transcendental generosity, discipline, patience, energy, meditation and knowledge. These virtues are called “the six paramitas,” because “param” means “other side” or “shore,” “other side of the river,” and “ita” means “arrived.” “Paramita” means “arriving at the other side or shore,” which indicates that the activities of the bodhisattva must have the vision, the understanding which transcends the centralized notions of ego. The bodhisattva is not trying to be good or kind, but he is spontaneously compassionate.
Transcendental generosity is generally misunderstood in the study of the Buddhist scriptures as meaning being kind to someone who is lower than you. Someone has this pain and suffering and you are in a superior position and can save them—which is a very simple-minded way of looking down upon someone. But in the case of. the bodhisattva, generosity is not so callous. It is something very strong and powerful; it is communication.
Communication must transcend irritation, otherwise it will be like trying to make a comfortable bed in a briar patch. The penetrating qualities of external color, energy, and light will come toward us, penetrating our attempts to communicate like a thorn pricking our skin. We will wish to subdue this intense irritation and our communication will be blocked.
Communication must be radiation and receiving and exchange. Whenever irritation is involved, then we are not able to see properly and fully and clearly the spacious quality of that which is coming toward us, that which is presenting itself as communication. The external world is immediately rejected by our irritation which says, “No, no, this irritates me, go away.” Such an attitude is the complete opposite of transcendental generosity.
So the bodhisattva must experience the complete communication of generosity, transcending irritation and self-defensiveness. Otherwise, when thorns threaten to prick us, we feel that we are being attacked, that we must defend ourselves. We run away from the tremendous opportunity for communication that has been given to us, and we have not been brave enough even to look to the other shore of the river. We are looking back and trying to run away.
Generosity is a willingness to give, to open without philosophical or pious or religious motives, just simply doing what is required at any moment in any situation, not being afraid to receive anything. Opening could take place in the middle of a highway. We are not afraid that smog and dust or people’s hatreds and passions will overwhelm us; we simply open, completely surrender, give. This means that we do not judge, do not evaluate. If we attempt to judge or evaluate our experience, if we try to decide to what extent we should open, to what extent we should remain closed, then openness will have no meaning at all and the idea of paramita, of transcendental generosity, will be in vain. Our action will not transcend anything, will cease to be the act of a bodhisattva.
The whole implication of the idea of transcendence is that we see through the limited notions, the limited conceptions, the warfare mentality of this as opposed to that. Generally, when we look at an object, we do not allow ourselves to see it properly. Automatically we see our version of the object instead of actually seeing that object as it is. Then we are quite satisfied, because we have manufactured our own version of the thing within ourselves. Then we comment on it, we judge, we take or reject; but there is no real communication going on at all.
So transcendental generosity is giving whatever you have. Your action must be completely open, completely naked. It is not for you to make judgments; it is for the recipients to make the gesture of receiving. If the recipients are not ready for your generosity, they will not receive it. If they are ready for it, they will come and take it. This is the selfless action of the bodhisattva. He is not self-conscious: “Am I making any mistakes?”; “Am I being careful?”; “To whom should I open?” He never takes sides. The bodhisattva will, figuratively just lie like a corpse. Let people look at you and examine you. You are at their disposal. Such noble action, such complete action, action that does not contain any hypocrisy, any philosophical or religious judgment at all. That is why it is transcendental. That is why it is paramita. It is beautiful.
And if we proceed further and examine the paramita of “morality” or “discipline,” the shila paramita, we find that the same principles apply. That is, shila or discipline is not a matter of binding oneself to a fixed set of laws or patterns. For if a bodhisattva is completely selfless, a completely open person, then he will act according to openness, will not have to follow rules; he will simply fall into patterns. It is impossible for the bodhisattva to destroy or harm other people, because he embodies transcendental generosity. He has opened himself completely and so does not discriminate between this and that. He just acts in accordance with what is. From another person’s point of view—if someone were observing the bodhisattva—he always appears to act correctly, always seems to do the right thing at the right time. But if we were to try to imitate him, it would be impossible to do so, because his mind is so precise, so accurate that he never makes mistakes. He never runs into unexpected problems, never creates chaos in a destructive way. He just falls into patterns. Even if life seems to be chaotic, he just falls in, participates in the chaos and somehow things sort themselves out. The bodhisattva is able to cross the river so to speak, without falling into its turbulence.
If we are completely open, not watching ourselves at all, but being completely open and communicating with situations as they are, then action is pure, absolute, superior. However, if we attempt to achieve pure conduct through effort, our action will be clumsy. However pure it may be, still there will be clumsiness and rigidity involved. In the case of the bodhisattva his whole action is flowing, there is no rigidity at all. Everything just fits into place, as if someone had taken years and years to figure out the whole situation. The bodhisattva does not act in a premeditated way; he just communicates. He starts from the generosity of openness and falls into the pattern of the situation. It is an often-used metaphor that the bodhisattva’s conduct is like the walk of an elephant. Elephants do not hurry; they just walk slowly and surely through the jungle, one step after another. They just sail right along. They never fall nor do they make mistakes. Each step they take is solid and definite.