Zazen in Paradise

The very first time I was invited abroad as a Zen monk to accompany others in zazen practice, the destination was Africa. More precisely, it was the Republic of Seychelles—an island nation in the Indian Ocean about 1,300 kilometers east of the African continent. The retreat lasted ten days. The person who invited me was a gentleman of Saudi Arabian nationality, a practitioner of Islam. The connection began when I was still holding daily zazen sessions at Ryōsokuin Temple in Kyoto. I once conducted a private session for him and his group. After I left Ryōsokuin, it became possible for me to travel, and so the long-awaited opportunity arose: my first private overseas session—accompanying others in the practice of zazen. Seychelles is often called “the last paradise on Earth” or “the pearl of the Indian Ocean.” The description fits perfectly. Its nature is vast, lush, and breathtaking: fine white sandy beaches, brilliant blue skies, tropical plants, mountains made of giant boulders, birds of dazzling colors, bats larger than crows, insects I had never seen before, vividly hued fish, and giant tortoises. Life on the islands seems to harmonize with the grand rhythms of nature itself; the people I met were calm, unhurried, and gentle. To sit in zazen within such a picture-perfect tropical paradise was entirely new for me. I often say, “You can sit in zazen anytime, anywhere,” and this was a rare opportunity to embody that truth in the most vivid way. My days in Seychelles were both beautiful and full of learning. Together we sat, entrusting our bodies to the gentle rhythm of waves and wind, seeking to become one with the island. On stormy days, we practiced zazen while observing the fierce play of thunder. We quietly examined body and breath in detail, confirming the present state of our physical being. Over shared meals, we discussed Zen, religion, philosophy, and society. We spent time sitting together with close companions. And at night, I sat alone, listening deeply to the sounds of the Seychellois night. The gentleman who invited me is, I believe, more than a generation older than I. Though our life experiences, worldviews, religious perspectives, and social positions differed greatly, there was no sense of conflict between us. This encounter reaffirmed something essential: zazen can be shared simply as a technique—a practice accessible to anyone, regardless of background. As for zazen itself, my role was to transmit its method as a skill, and to accompany him by sitting together. Yet beyond zazen, in witnessing his profound love of nature and his astonishing humility and courtesy toward everyone he met, I felt the breadth of his humanity. In countless ways outside of zazen, I was the one learning. I remain deeply grateful for this experience. When, under which sky, and with whom will I sit next?

I look forward to that moment with genuine excitement.

Tosei Shinabe