This book of essays presents the essential teachings of the Western Baul spiritual master Lee Lozowick, with special emphasis on what he has named “Enlightened Duality.” This dynamic spiritual principle suggests that one can combine a firmly-rooted and integrated awareness of the nondual nature of reality (“all is One”), with a lively, conscious relationship to the “duality” (or play of opposites) that characterizes our everyday lives.

“Provides a rich and nuanced picture of a real teacher and how he lives in the real (dualistic) world.”

—Robert Frager, Ph.D., founder, Institute for Transpersonal Psychology

Lee Lozowick is a poet, songwriter and author of 14 books of spiritual teachings; many translated into French, German and Spanish. He is the spiritual son of the late Yogi Ramsuratkumar, the revered beggar saint of South India. His teaching, “the American Baul tradition,” ranges from mysticism and the importance of spiritual practice, to social commentary, particularly about human relationships.        

M. Young, an author and editor, is a senior student of Lee Lozowick’s. She holds a master’s degree in transpersonal psychology and is the editor of a journal of spirituality and personal transformation.

Twenty years ago in India, an elderly gentleman—a devotee of Lee Lozowick’s Guru—said to me: “Why speak of such things like detachment? I am equally and deeply attached to everything—I feel such an affection for all things, and experiences, whether joyful or sorrow filled.” Such must be the blessings of Yogi Ramsurat Kumar, for those very words that so impressed me all those years ago I find repeated by Lee in this wonderfully honest and invigorating book. “I am totally attached to Reality” says Lee. And, as it should be in the spiritual path, this extremely readable publication delivers the central thrust of importance to seekers everywhere: it is not answers that we should seek, for enlightenment, even if such a thing exists, is not a question. It is Reality that we should pursue—at the expense of our expectations, false perceptions and self images that we create. 

Lee’s discourses interspersed with Mary Young’s inquisitive and informative essays form a perfect right brain–left brain balance. The tone of utter devotion is ever present, Lee’s to Yogi Ramsurat, and Mary’s to Lee. The tone of devotion that is frequently found in this book is a type that has not been popularized in the West: it is the devotion of the most excruciating type, the mood of separation, the mood of the broken heart, that forever keeps our mind, heart and attention gripped to the object of our devotion. There is an utter surrender that is required to navigate such a state, and such teachings are rare. As each decade progresses and the maturity of the seekers in the West evolves, the urgency for getting to the heart of the matter of seeking to live in Reality, and not bound by our illusions, grows more and more prevalent. This book can certainly be considered such an upgrade. It is filled with honesty, piercing insight and encouragement, and is a testament to the sincerity and total commitment of its authors.

–  Eddie Stern, co-publisher, Namarupa Magazine

I love the wonderful interplay of alternate chapters written by teacher and student in this book. They act as two mirrors reflecting each other, deepening potent images. Each provides different perspectives on varied topics and reflects some of the deeper aspects of the other. Looking at a mirror reflected in another mirror leads to an infinite recurrence, which isn’t a bad thing. It might even have something to do with enlightened duality.

I’m writing this foreword mainly from the perspective of a Sufi teacher, a sister tradition to the Bauls. The position of Sufi teacher is a formal role and not necessarily anything more.

One day Rumi and his teacher Shams were sitting over tea and one of Rumi’s dervishes ran up, dusty and exhausted, having travelled hundreds of miles to see Rumi. He fell to his knees, kissed Rumi’s hand, and exclaimed, “Master, the sheikh you sent to us has passed away. Please send us another sheikh.” Rumi laughed and said to Shams, “I’m glad he asked for a sheikh. If he asked for a dervish either you or I would have had to go!”

Like Lee I often get irritated, or worse, at those so-called teachers of nondualism who confuse Reality and reality. As the great Zen master Dogen once wrote, “The real and the ideal are like a box and its lid, like two arrows that meet and collide in mid-air.” Focusing solely on either one and ignoring the other only leads to more delusion, not to mention confusion. And, as Dogen pointed out, you really can’t have one without the other. Without the bottom of the box there is no lid; what was once a lid is just a useless piece of wood or metal.

As far as I’m concerned the most appropriate response to someone who claims, “Nothing is real. It’s all a dream” is to smack them in the head. If they become upset you can remind them that if nothing is real they have nothing to be upset about.

My first spiritual teacher, Paramahansa Yogananda, wrote, “Yes, life is only a dream. But if someone hits your dream head with a dream two-by-four, you will have a dream headache. And unless you wake up, that headache will persist.” Yogananda also wrote about a saint whose arm was cut off by mistake by an overzealous policeman who mistook him for a dangerous criminal. The saint pressed his arm back into his shoulder and continued on his way. I’d love to see any of those clever nondualists cut off a finger and then reattach it. Then I’d take them much more seriously.

My Sufi teachers have explained the veils of ignorance discussed by Lee are both real and illusory at the same time. They often quoted a famous hadith qudsi, an extra-Koranic revelation in which God says, “There are 70,000 veils between you and Me, but there are no veils between Me and you.” For us the veils seem real, for God they are not. (By the way, in Arabic 70,000 means uncountable. In English the equivalent would be, “There are millions of veils.” That’s a lot of illusion!) 

I love Lee’s term “Spiritual Slavery.” Muhammad (peace and blessings upon him) is traditionally referred to as a “slave and a Messenger of God.” The Prophet is considered a perfect human being so how can we begin to follow his example? It’s easy to say “Spiritual Slave.” But it’s incredibly hard to become one.

Some Sufi teachers say a dervish should give up all self-will and become like a corpse in the hands of the corpse-washer. But we can’t even let someone lift our arm without either resisting or “helping.” Entering the state of Spiritual Slavery is as great a transformation as the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly. It’s a long, tough road and it requires unbelievable patience and perseverance. This kind of patience is illustrated in an old Turkish Sufi saying, “The Path is like chewing an iron peanut.” This book provides an authentic taste of that peanut.

I’ve learned a lot about love from my Sufi teachers. For the Bauls human love leads to divine love and my teachers have said the same. But how can we turn human love to divine love? Most of us can’t even manage human love. Unfortunately, we generally refuse to understand how incapable of love we are. 

As a psychologist (which I am in another life), I’m convinced that Freud emphasized the wrong Greek myths. We are not so much plagued by the sexual issues of Oedipus or Elektra as by the egotism of Narcissus. To make a long myth short, Narcissus was a gorgeous Greek youth. Almost everyone fell in love with him, but he turned them all down and eventually was cursed by the goddess Nemesis (someone you really don’t want to upset). She cursed Narcissus to fall in love with himself since he refused to love anyone else. The next day Narcissus saw his reflection in a pond and became so entranced with his image that he couldn’t stop staring. He ended up starving to death by the side of the pond.

Of course Narcissus didn’t really fall in love with himself, but with his image. This is one of our greatest challenges—to stop our self absorption and become capable of love. A teacher serves as a model of someone who is capable of love. A teacher is also someone who tries to kick us out of our self-absorbed trance so we have a chance at becoming mature human beings. (The alternative is to starve to death emotionally and spiritually.) This book provides a rich and nuanced picture of a real teacher and how he lives in the real (dualistic) world.

Lee’s comment on the essence of Buddhism is wonderfully illuminating. He writes, “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.” I can’t tell you how much nonsense I’ve read over many years, nonsense that distorts this simple, basic truth of Buddhism. I love Lee’s comment, and I certainly intend to steal it when I teach. And I can’t think of a higher complement than that.

There are many other priceless nuggets in this book. I hope you enjoy turning them up as much as I have. – Robert Frager