Living in Japan changes you. Not all at once, but slowly—like one of Kyoto’s temple gardens that I walk through every week while guiding my tours. The transformation is subtle, accumulating in small details: a different way of breathing, observing, responding to everyday chaos.After three years in the Kansai region, I realized something I never expected:Stoicism and Zen, despite being born worlds apart, aim for the same inner freedom—even if they take opposite routes to get there.

It’s a truth I didn’t learn from books, but by living between two mental landscapes: the Western world of philosopher-emperors and the Eastern world of Zen monks.

Two Civilizations, One Universal Question

In Italy, reading Marcus Aurelius, I was struck by the Meditations—private notes written in the middle of war, disease, and political pressure. They are intimate reflections in which an emperor tries to guard his own mind more than he guards his empire.

In Japan, stepping into Kyoto’s Zen temples, I am struck by a very different approach: one rooted in silence, emptiness, and contemplation. There is nothing to analyze—only something to experience.

And yet the underlying question is identical:How can a human being remain stable when everything around them is unstable?

Stoicism: The Path of Reason

For the Stoics, a free mind comes from thinking well.Suffering does not come from events, but from our judgments about them.

When faced with a challenge, the Stoic asks:

“Is this under my control?”

If yes, act.If no, accept.

It is a method grounded in reason, clarity of thought, and the discipline of separating what we can influence from what we cannot.A mental strength that is trained day by day.

During my tours, when I talk about the disciplined education of historical Japanese elites, I am often surprised by how much this mindset echoes Stoic principles: the idea that virtue, discipline, and clarity matter more than circumstances.

Zen: The Path of Silence and Paradox

Zen begins from a different premise:the mind thinks too much.Too many judgments, too many stories, too many concepts.

The problem is not thinking poorly but thinking excessively.So Zen does not encourage rational analysis—it encourages letting go.

✨ The Method of Kōan

A key element I often explain during tours in Kyoto is the use of kōan:short, paradoxical riddles meant to short-circuit rational thought.

Questions like:“What is the sound of one hand clapping?”They are intentionally impossible.

And here lies the brilliance: the kōan is not a puzzle to solve but a mental detonator. The mind struggles, searches for meaning, feels confused… until eventually it gives up.And in that surrender, silence appears.

To return to emptiness, Zen overwhelms the mind with illogic—forcing it to stop resisting.

Ryoan-ji: The Garden That Teaches You to Let Go

Among all the places in Kyoto, one temple stands as a perfect bridge between Zen and universal philosophy: Ryoan-ji (龍安寺).I often bring my guests here because its rock garden is more than a visual masterpiece—it is a living teaching.

The garden contains 15 stones, but—something I always point out during my tours—no matter where you sit, you can only see 14.One stone is always hidden.

At first, it feels like a design flaw.From a Zen perspective, it is the lesson.

The garden says without speaking:

“Not everything can be understood. Not everything can be controlled.”

Like kōan, Ryoan-ji overwhelms the mind with paradox.You observe, shift your angle, tilt your head, try to decode its logic…Nothing works. One stone remains forever out of sight.

And when you finally accept that there is no solution, the same thing happens as with a kōan:the mind stops fighting, and quietness emerges.A space opens. A silence that feels internal, not external.

This is where Zen becomes direct experience—not a doctrine, not an idea, but a moment of pure presence.

The Meeting Point: A Mind Free in the Midst of Chaos

Through this double lens—Marcus Aurelius on one side, Ryoan-ji and its kōan on the other—I came to understand the profound connection between Stoicism and Zen.

Both aim for:

A mind that does not get dragged away by external chaos.

Stoics reach it by thinking better.Zen practitioners reach it by thinking less.Two different methods, one shared destination:

✨ inner freedom that does not depend on circumstances.

Stoicism seeks virtue through reason.Zen seeks serenity through emptiness.But ultimately both aim for a mental space where we are no longer slaves to emotions, impulses, fears, or noise.

Living in Japan taught me to appreciate both approaches:Zen helps me dissolve the mind.Stoicism helps me organize it.Together they create a balance I never had before.

Japan as a Philosophical Experience

When I guide my Tanuki Stories tours through Kyoto, Nara, and Osaka, I always try to go beyond surface-level sightseeing.Japan is not just temples and photogenic gardens: it is a mental school.

Sitting in front of Ryoan-ji’s rocks, listening to a kōan, or meditating for a few minutes offers more than any theoretical lesson.Because here, philosophy is not studied—it is lived.

Watching my guests slowly realize this truth is one of the most rewarding parts of my work.

Stoicism and Zen: Which Path Do You Choose?

Do you prefer the logic of Marcus Aurelius or the silence of Ryoan-ji?Stoicism or Zen?Thinking better or thinking less?

Whichever path you choose, both lead to the same goal:a mind that is free, steady, and clear—even in chaos.

I continue walking both paths every day, here in Japan.

Thank you for reading.

Tanuki Stories — private local tours in Nara, Kyoto, Osaka, Himeji, and Kansai.