actually embodying the source, which is why he said that it was not him that was the teacher. So on the one hand, there is the metaphysical Truth that there is only one teacher, and, on the other hand, there are those who embody the reality of that metaphysical Truth. I think he is one of those.
AMIR: Could it also be that him saying, “There is only one teacher and I’m a fellow student,” was his way of turning the student’s attention from him personally to the source?
HAKIM: I think so, yes. But it wasn’t a trick. His taste was not to be a teacher, but rather to be genuinely, truly nothing. He wanted to be under the constantly changing revelation of the reality. If you are already a knower, you can’t be that; but if you’re a student of reality, then you’re learning moment by moment. So his saying that he was a student was not diminishing himself, but elevating the meaning of being a student, to being a receiver and open to the divine guidance.
AMIR: So the teacher, in the case of Bulent, was actually teaching by being an example of “studentship” of the source, of that higher knowledge.
HAKIM: That’s right. He wasn’t teaching. He was simply being.
AMIR: Could you tell me what led to your meeting with Bulent? Were you looking for a teacher?
HAKIM: This was in the early ’70s. I was twenty-four years old, living in the material world, working more than full time, basically living somebody else’s life. Then I had this car accident and a kind of near-death experience during it. I was recovering when a friend arrived at my doorstep and said to me, “I really think you should go to this place.” This was the first time that I had heard of the Beshara Centre, which was at a place called Swyre Farm in Gloucestershire. I went there for a weekend, and that visit awakened something in me. I went back home, thought about that for a while and then got together with some people who’d also been in that place, and we met for study and meditation, etc. In one of my subsequent visits to Swyre Farm, I first met Bulent.
AMIR: Was it a love at first sight?
HAKIM: No, my involvement and relationship with him developed gradually, over years. Eventually, I moved to Chisholme House, in Scotland, which was being renovated and turned into the Beshara School. Bulent was there for a lot of the time. He didn’t teach but he was a consultant, guiding the people who were running the courses. I joined the first course there and for me it was an absolutely life-changing experience. I remember saying to myself, “I want to be involved in this; this is the path for me.” Then Bulent asked me to be involved with the next course as a facilitator, and after that I participated in a follow-up six-month course. For that course, Bulent was fully present nearly all of the time. He warned us at the outset: “For this course, you’ll be under the whims of a grumpy old man.” I must say I found it really difficult. It was so intense. We were meeting for conversation with Bulent every day without exception for maybe six hours a day. Extraordinary things came out during those six months. We were introduced to a place that we can’t own, but if we’re fortunate we can gain access to it—a place of journeying.
I’ll make a long leap here to 1984, when I was invited to come and be the director of studies for the six-month course, and afterwards I was appointed principal of the school. That summer Bulent was un-well when he came back from Turkey, and when he was diagnosed with cancer he told me, “I want you to look after me.”
AMIR: Was it only then that the relationship between you became closer?
HAKIM: Yes. I think that an invitation from him to come closer had been there much earlier, but I had been too afraid and held myself back. But at that point, in 1984, there was no choice. Or rather, there had been a choice but I’d already made it, so that then there was no choice. He said, “Come closer.” I said yes. Then I was in agreement. It wasn’t always easy, in fact it was very intense at times, but I had agreed to sit down in the fire.
AMIR: What was the intensity? Do you think he deliberately put pressure on you, or was it more of a spontaneous result of being in his presence?
HAKIM: There is a poem by Rumi about a conversation between a chickpea and the cook cooking it, which is a metaphor for the teacher-student relationship. Well, Bulent was preparing me for the role and for the responsibilities I had agreed to take. It was a highly pressurized situation. I was cooked, mashed and reshaped by him into nice hummus!
It’s important to clarify at this point that none of this would have been possible without my permission. And my permission was an essential one, from my essence. You could say it was my essential request, which is that I wanted to get closer to the real, I wanted to be of service, I wanted to be completely under divine love. Well, if that’s the case, then certain things have to happen and some of them are going to be a little painful. This is not a caravan of pain, but pain is part of the growing. That’s what the cook says to the chickpea: “If you want to be nice, soft and delicious, if you want to realize your essential goodness, then stay in the pot.” Of course, if that essential request had not been present it might have looked like a sort of bullying. But it was not.
AMIR: Were there times in which you felt that the pressure was too much for you?
HAKIM: There were times when I felt completely crushed, but it’s interesting that, although being with him was sometimes like sitting in the middle of a volcano, for some reason you never felt that he was out to destroy you. Something always felt right, even though your limbs and appendages were getting chopped off. We also had a lot of fun. He had a great sense of humor and we laughed a lot. Sometimes we’d be helplessly rolling over with laughter, crying with laughter, unable to breathe…
AMIR: What was it like for you when he died?
HAKIM: It was a very mixed period. There was the real sorrow that something has come to an end, but there was also this feeling of extraordinary joy, which was bodily joy, it didn’t come from a thought. A real grounded experience of joy which I’d never experienced before.
AMIR: How do you understand that?
HAKIM: When Rumi departed, he said to his followers, “Don’t grieve for me, this is only my nutshell. I’m going to rejoin my beloved.” You see, while we’re here, however much we talk about the union with the beloved, we’re still under the conditions of relativity and a kind of a distance, a trace of separation remains. When you die, or return to the source, there is the joy of reunion. Because it’s real and it’s not just his, not just Bulent’s, the whole universe experiences it. Something has become completed in the most beautiful way. It was tremendous.
AMIR: Do you feel that he has continued to guide you in some way, to function as your teacher, even after his passing away?
HAKIM: Yes, but when you say “he,” we have to go back to the single source which he represented. I believe it was him, but what is him? That question needs to be asked just as I need to ask, “Who am I?” If I’m asking, “Who am I?” I need to ask, “Who is he?” as well. Of course, that guidance is not limited to him. It can come from anywhere and it can still be him, but in another form. Do you see what I’m saying?
AMIR: I do, but don’t you find there’s something in your relationship with Bulent that makes this guidance more accessible to you?
HAKIM: That’s right, and I’ll tell you how that continues today. A maqam, a physical place or spiritual point of reference, is important for us all to find. For me, it is the Monument to Man at Chisholme, where Bulent is buried. I am fortunate that I can go there anytime, even if only in my intention. It has become a place of imagination within my intention. The fact that it’s in my imagination doesn’t mean that it’s not real. Real things happen there, in this place of the imagination, just like being with somebody in the flesh. So, yes, guidance continues. It doesn’t have to be at the monument, but the monument is for me a very useful physical representation of this guidance. When I visit, I am reminded of who I am and I am returned to who I am. All the peripheral stuff, the petty concerns, even if they don’t drop away immediately, they become reduced, and a different perspective is given. So, yes, guidance continues.
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