about Bulent, and what I found fascinated me. The description of him on the Chisholme Institute website begins like this: “Bulent Rauf (1911–87) was a man who escaped definition deliberately, but whom many varied descriptions fitted easily: a gentleman, a mystic, a world-class cook, archaeologist, writer and translator, Turkish citizen and man of the world, lover of beauty and champion of esoteric education.”
I learned that British mystic and author Reshad Field considered Bulent to be his teacher, and that Field’s well-known book The Last Barrier—A True Story of a Journey into Ultimate Reality was about their relationship. I also stumbled upon a documentary, In Search of Oil and Sand, released in 2012, which tells a fable-like story about how Bulent, who was married to Princess Faiza, the sister of King Farouk of Egypt, created in 1952 with members of the Egyptian royal family and their friends an amateur movie, Oil and Sand, whose plot predicted with uncanny precision the coup d’état in which King Farouk was ousted—which happened only a few months later. I came to the meeting with Hakim eager to hear about his relationship with that remarkable man, and I wasn’t disappointed.
I chose to start the book with this interview not only because it was the first one I conducted, but also because it touches on one of the most basic questions that has always baffled me: Why would a teacher tell their students that he or she is not a teacher, that they don’t need and must not have a teacher or that there is absolutely nothing to teach or learn? Why would anybody make such patently self-contradictory claims?
This paradox was especially evident for me in regard to the powerfully awake and profoundly influential J. Krishnamurti. Videos of him speaking to an audience or conversing with someone, not only with great conviction and confidence but also with powerful authority, leave little question in my mind that, if anybody should be regarded as a spiritual teacher, it is he. So why did he often use his spiritual weight and charisma to assert that there is no teacher and no pupil, and got upset when people referred to him as a teacher or even implied that?
These questions were highlighted also in the way Hakim spoke about his relationship with Bulent. It seems clear to me that Bulent functioned as and was a teacher to him and to his peers. Even the reasons that Hakim gave, for that not being the case, actually explained why Bulent was indeed a teacher and expressed Hakim’s great appreciation for that.
In Mariana Caplan’s The Guru Question: The Perils and Rewards of Choosing a Spiritual Teacher, she dedicated a section in her chapter entitled “Types of Spiritual Authority” to this paradox; there, she writes:
An increasing number of teachers say they are not teachers. There are many reasons for taking this position. In many of the contemporary neo-Advaita-Vedanta nondual traditions, for example, the labels of “teacher” and “student” are often considered illusory distinctions within the nondual truth of oneness, and therefore obstacles to the nondual realization of oneness. This model suggests that the affirmation of the teacher outside of oneself often distracts the practitioner from the truth of the inner teacher or guru, and disempowers the student’s self-awakening and the cultivation of trust in her own inner authority.
The point of discernment to be aware of in this circumstance is as follows: When two people are functioning as teacher and student in the Western world, there is an almost inevitable arising of psychological projections and power dynamics in spite of what a teacher does or does not call him or herself; and when the student-teacher relationship is not acknowledged or well structured, built-in structures to help both the student and teacher navigate the psychological complexities that arise for each of them often go lacking.
I will end the presentation of this paradox with the answer that Andrew Cohen (in Chapter 12) gave me in one of the interviews I did with him for this book, when I asked him why he thought Krishnamurti insisted he was not a teacher.
ANDREW COHEN
ANDREW: I think that’s because Krishnamurti was aware of the transference and projection that too often happens when people meet genuinely enlightened teachers. He wanted people to take responsibility for themselves and be mature. He was reacting to many of the difficult problems that tend to arise around powerful and charismatic spiritual teachers. Ironically, while he was doing this, he was denying who he really was. He himself was brilliant, radiant and obviously deeply enlightened. He liked to pretend he was not any different than anybody else, but it wasn’t true, and he knew it. He knew he was in touch with a level of depth and heightened consciousness that most people are oblivious to. And to be honest, when someone is so much more awake than others, they can’t really hide it. It’s not only obvious to them, but to all others who have the eyes to see. The light of consciousness shines through them with so much more power, depth and intelligence that it’s almost unavoidable. The “Guru Principle” was alive and active in that extraordinary man, even though he did his very best to appear to be no different than anyone else.
CHAPTER 2
SPIRITUAL FRIEND OR GURU?
The disciple must resort to the feet of a wise teacher, one who is an embodiment of that Teacher Who is already in his heart, the Eternal Wisdom…. [H]e needs the guidance of one who, because his whole being has become one with the Wisdom, can speak with the same voice as that Teacher in the heart and yet can do so in tones which can be heard with the outer ear.
–SRI KRISHNA PREM, THE YOGA OF THE BHAGAVAT GITA
[The Buddha] stated that the Dharma teacher acts as a spiritual friend (kalyana mitta) as well as an authority figure since the teacher belongs to the Sangha of practitioners.
–CHRISTOPHER TITMUSS, THE BUDDHA OF LOVE
First and foremost, a teacher is not a friend. If we really want to awaken, we do not need friendship but rather more unpredictability.
–THOMAS HÜBL, INTEGRALESFORUM.ORG
STEPHEN FULDER
Stephen Fulder was one of my early interviewees. We met for the interview at the Tovana Sangha House in Tel Aviv, where he spends a couple of days a week, a three-hour bus ride from his home in the Upper Galilee. Tovana, the Hebrew word for Vipassanā or “insight,” is the name of a leading Buddhist practice organization in Israel, which Stephen founded more than thirty years ago, and where he functions as a senior Dharma teacher. The apartment’s cool air and quiet and serene atmosphere were a relief from the hot, busy city streets outside, whose sounds were muffled by the closed windows and the hiss of the air conditioner.
AMIR: Let’s start with you as a student—who were your teachers or people you still consider as your teachers nowadays?
STEPHEN: In the Theravada tradition that I’ve been practicing and involved with, the principle of a single primary teacher—root guru or Satguru—is not relevant, and so I’ve had plenty of teachers. My first teacher was S.N. Goenka, but the relationship with him was impersonal, as he was teaching thousands of students. In Goenka’s tradition, based on a Burmese lineage, the teachers teach the practice rather technically and don’t really relate to you as an individual and to your issues or your life. They are masters at passing on to you a technique and motivating and encouraging you to practice intensively.
AMIR: But even though you say there was no personal relationship with Goenka and he was just communicating the teaching in a very technical way, there was something about him that made him a better vehicle for the teaching than many other teachers in that tradition. There was a reason why you went to see him and not hundreds of other teachers. What I’m aiming at is that there is something about the person that is an important factor in the transmission of the teaching.
STEPHEN: Yes, I only did one retreat with Goenka himself, who is charismatic and inspiring, and after that I did about a dozen with Sayama. She came from the same tradition as Goenka, and they both had the same teacher. Why I kept going back to her is an interesting question. I think it’s because she embodied a very finely tuned and subtle understanding of practice. I really respected her extraordinary power of mind, her Samadhi, and how she brought this into the practice. There was something about her that was crystal clear—as if she was coming from a subtle awareness and a space that I could trust, that did not embody a lot of belief or tradition or control. She radiated a present