During my six months in Kyoto, I had another encounter. It was with an Indian monk named Sri Chinmoy, who had come from America. He was a teacher who had long guided meditation for staff members at the United Nations Headquarters in New York.

One day, I happened to see an article in the newspaper saying Master Sri Chinmoy was coming to Kyoto. At that time, I was practicing zazen at a Zen temple, but I still hadn't quite shed my American ways. I thought, “Maybe meditation and zazen are the same, or perhaps meditation might even be better.”

I went to the hotel where Master Sri Chinmoy was holding a meditation session and experienced it. It felt incredibly good. The staff at the meditation session were also very welcoming, bright, calm, and kind—completely different from the zazen I was doing at the temple.

If I were to compare that feeling to food, sitting zazen with Japanese Zen monks is like eating hard burdock root. In contrast, meditation with Indian monks is like eating soft, creamy ice cream. There were no strict formalities, no rigid rules about how to sit. It was simply silent meditation. When the time came, you quietly turned your attention inward. Everyone around you was doing the same, so you naturally fell into that state too.

Master Sri Chinmoy came with about 200 people, including disciples and staff. After Kyoto, they were scheduled to go to Tokyo and Hiroshima to spread the message of “Peace Meditation.”

At the meditation venue, everyone learned I was born in Hiroshima. A coordinator from the United Nations approached me: “Sri Chinmoy apparently wants to hold a meditation session at Hiroshima Peace Park, but with 200 people, it's proving difficult to find accommodation.”

“Danjō, could you help find a hotel in Hiroshima?” he asked me suddenly. Come to think of it, I realized the temple near my childhood home might be able to accommodate them.

Fukuyama is about an hour by bus from Hiroshima Peace Park, but there's a building constructed as a student training facility and employee lodging. If we partitioned the rooms, it could sleep up to 2,000 people. When I relayed this, they decided, “Then let's ask Danjo.” And luckily, the schedule worked out, and we secured a reservation at the Zen temple's facilities. When I reported that lodging was arranged, they said, “We need not just lodging, but also a large venue and a sports field where everyone can run.” This temple was perfect for that too.

Sri Chinmoy received ‘spiritual development education’ from childhood at a school founded by a famous sage at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in India. As part of this, he practiced sports—not competitive sports, but sports designed to enhance one's inner strength. I believe he also studied music and poetry during that time.

Actually, the meditation practice Shri Chinmoy teaches isn't just sitting still. It involves training the consciousness to transcend one's limits through activities like running, painting, and music. Back then, he was holding annual 24-hour marathons in New York. He wanted to do that in Japan with his disciples and everyone together.

Also, Shri Chinmoy himself paints and writes poetry, which perfectly matches my own hobbies. But when he says “writing poetry,” he means how many poems one can write from inspiration—some people write about a thousand. Shri Chinmoy is vegan, but he's incredibly strong. It was later reported in the local newspaper that he did eight hundred push-ups.

Jakusui: Wow!? That's amazing. How old was Shri Chinmoy at the time?

Priest Danjo: In his fifties, I think. He has a very solid build. He can effortlessly lift a 200-kilogram barbell in weightlifting. He's like a person with superhuman abilities.

Shri Chinmoy looked gentle, like the Buddha. He didn't talk much and seemed quiet, but the energy he radiated had this... ‘gentle vibration’ to it. Shri Chinmoy was vegan and possessed artistic talent. He embodied enlightenment, or rather, the feeling of human inner blossoming.

Many of his disciples were also remarkable individuals. Carl Lewis, who won nine gold medals in Los Angeles, USA, was one of them. If you look it up on YouTube, you'll see footage of him running around the stadium after clinching a gold medal. There's footage of him bringing flowers to his guru, Shri Chinmoy.

The word “spiritual” is used, but in the spiritual realm, it's the same as ‘prayer’. It's a message of ‘Do your best’ sent by a Guru or comrade to their fellow. This brings out abilities one didn't possess before, and of course, one also shows reverence towards their comrade. When this aligns perfectly, one reaches the realm of the Divine and can unleash their power. Besides Carl Lewis, incredible individuals became his disciples—like the swimmer who crossed the English Channel, people who accomplished the impossible.

It draws out humanity's potential and influences others. He introduced this, showing it's achievable not through words, but through meditation. When we deeply meditate, we encounter another self within and unleash hidden power to its fullest in eternal life. Shri Chinmoy became my first meditation teacher.

Rather than just meditation instruction, I experienced for the first time methods of elevating the spirit through physical movement and artistic expression. I realized that even without eating hard burdock root at a Zen temple, or even eating sweet soft-serve ice cream like this, a person can awaken. Our inner sensibilities, artistic sense, and the physical strength needed to enhance our inner potential come together with deep meditation.

Despite the short time I meditated with Shri Chinmoy, I felt profoundly influenced and sensed a transformation within myself.

The world of meditation is hard to express in words. It's a fleeting sensation. It's also about whether the aftertaste turns into joy. Through meditation, our innate emotions and joy awaken in a real way. That, I believe, is the ‘start of the spiritual world’.

Since around 1995, the digital society has been expanding rapidly. Don't you think the challenge ahead is how we integrate with it, how we engage with it in our daily lives? To use a flower analogy, it's about whether we choose fresh flowers or artificial ones. With artificial flowers, you can become someone who just admires how beautiful they always look.

But there's no life there. If we were to accept this into ourselves, we might never encounter the inherent kindness and compassion of human beings. If we encounter the true gentleness, compassion, and depth of love that comes from real life, then I believe it ceases to be an artificial flower and becomes a genuine, living flower.