Zen and the Shikoku Pilgrimage: A Deep Connection Zen in Motion

1. Prologue: Why Do the World’s Leaders Seek “Blank Space”?

Did you know that in the 1970s, when Steve Jobs was still a young hippie, he had a dream?
It was to travel to Japan and become a Zen monk.

At the time, Eastern philosophy was sweeping through young people in California. Jobs was one of them. When he picked up Shunryu Suzuki’s "Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind", something awakened within him. It marked the beginning of a lifelong interest in Zen.

After wandering India for seven months, he returned home and encountered a teacher at a Zen center near his house in Los Altos, California. That teacher was Kobun Otogawa, a Soto Zen priest. This meeting marked the beginning of a spiritual mentor–disciple relationship that would last for over 30 years.

Jobs seriously considered becoming a Zen monk. But his teacher advised him:

“Becoming a monk is not right for you. Practicing Zen does not mean becoming an ascetic. It means being fully present in each moment.”

“What exists in a Zen temple, apart from the worldly, is not something that cannot be found here.”

Guided by these words, Jobs chose not to withdraw completely from the material world, but to pursue a path that balanced Zen’s spiritual ideals with his own ambitions. He continued practicing Zen throughout his life.

Later, in his words to biographer Walter Isaacson, he captured the essence of what he learned from Zen:

“Just sit and observe, and you’ll see how restless your mind is. Try to calm it, and it only gets worse. But over time, it does settle, and when it does, you begin to hear more subtle things. Your intuition starts to blossom, and you see things more clearly, and you can be more present in the moment. Your mind slows down, and you see an immense expanse in the present moment. You begin to see so much more than you could before.”

This Zen philosophy later shaped the foundation of Apple’s product design and business philosophy. iPhone, iPad, MacBook—their shared qualities of “stripped-down beauty,” “the power of space,” and “focus on essence.” The philosophical foundation of Apple’s minimalist design is, in many ways, Zen aesthetics itself.

His signature outfit—jeans and a black Issey Miyake turtleneck—has even been seen as a modern version of a Zen monk’s workwear. And the book he repeatedly read, Paramahansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi, was distributed to all attendees at his memorial service. It speaks to how central spirituality was in his life.

And it’s not just Jobs. Today, CEOs, entrepreneurs, and investors around the world are spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on meditation retreats and mindfulness training. What are they seeking?

The answer is simple—silence. In a world filled with noise, there is nothing more rare or luxurious than the space to face one’s own thoughts.

Yet here lies a paradox. The more materially wealthy people become, the more they seek “inconvenience” and “solitude.” Not five-star hotel suites, but Zen temples deep in the mountains. Not first-class seats, but pilgrimage trails over rugged terrain. Why?

Because Zen has transcended religion and now functions as a kind of “mental OS” that clears thinking, sharpens judgment, and reveals what truly matters.

There is a place in Japan where you can experience Zen in its purest form—where you can find the space to face your own thoughts in silence.

It is in Shikoku. The 1,200 km pilgrimage route that circles the 88 sacred temples—the Shikoku Pilgrimage.

2. The Essence of Zen: From “Sitting” to “Walking”

When people hear the word Zen, many imagine zazen—sitting cross-legged in a quiet hall, focusing on the breath. But for modern people living extremely busy lives—especially executives who make hundreds of decisions a day and are constantly exposed to a flood of information—simply “sitting” can sometimes feel painful. Thoughts keep arising, and the absence of a smartphone can even cause anxiety.

So what should one do?

The answer is: walk.

Zen has a practice called kinhin—walking meditation. By walking slowly and mindfully, one brings the mind back to the present moment. The Shikoku Pilgrimage can be seen as an expanded form of this practice to its ultimate scale—a boundless Zen hall stretching over 1,200 km.

Step by step. The sensation of your feet touching the ground. The wind brushing your cheeks. The sound of birds, the rustling of trees, your own breath. As you walk the pilgrimage route, your awareness is no longer on “next quarter’s sales” or “tomorrow’s presentation,” but solely on this very moment.

This is not just a spiritual idea. Neuroscience shows that rhythmic movement—especially walking—promotes serotonin release in the brain, enhancing mental resilience. Moreover, extended walking frees the brain from external tasks, encouraging new associations of ideas and the emergence of potential solutions to problems.

According to research from Stanford University, walking can increase creative thinking by up to 60%. Nietzsche wrote in Twilight of the Idols: “All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.”

The Shikoku Pilgrimage is its ultimate form.

By the time you finish walking Shikoku, what you hold in your hands is not the stamps or souvenirs collected at temples. It is a clear mind and a sharpened intuition.

3. Shikoku’s Four Regions: The “Four Stages of Transformation” That Refine the Soul

The 1,200 km of the Shikoku Pilgrimage is not simply a long-distance hike. The journey is divided into four stages as a process of spiritual growth and transformation. These correspond to the four stages in Buddhism—“awakening,” “practice,” “enlightenment,” and “nirvana”—each aligned with one of Shikoku’s four prefectures: Tokushima, Kochi, Ehime, and Kagawa.

4. Osettai: The Ultimate Altruism That Dissolves the Ego

The Shikoku Pilgrimage has a unique culture not found on other pilgrimage routes. It is called osettai.

As you walk along the road, a local stranger may suddenly call out to you: “Pilgrim, here you go.” What they hand you might be cold tea, a rice ball, a mandarin orange, or sometimes even a homemade meal. Giving without asking for anything in return—that is osettai.

At first, many international pilgrims are puzzled by this. “Is there some hidden motive?” “Should I pay for this?” But the local people never accept anything in return. For them, helping pilgrims is itself a blessing and a joy.

This is a value system that has nearly disappeared from the modern business world, where efficiency and compensation are everything. Not “Give-and-Take,” but “Give-and-Give.” Pure kindness without expecting anything in return.

One American investment banker said that the moment he received osettai, he could not stop crying. “All my life, I have been taking, exchanging, and calculating. But here, nothing is asked of me. I am simply allowed to receive. I cannot express how liberating that felt.”

Osettai softens even the most hardened ego. For leaders who are used to always being the ones who give, the experience of vulnerably receiving can open the heart in a deeply startling way.

And before long, by the end of your journey, you too may find yourself wanting to offer something to someone else. That is the chain of osettai.

5. The Joy of the Journey: The Luxury of Encountering Japan’s Roots

Another great appeal of the Shikoku Pilgrimage is the chance to encounter the original landscape of Japan, untouched by over-tourism.

The temples of Kyoto and Tokyo are beautiful, but they are crowded with visitors and often carry a certain air of spectacle. The temples of Shikoku are different. Here, faith is still woven into everyday life. An elderly local woman pressing her hands together in prayer early in the morning at the main hall. A resident priest sweeping the temple grounds. A pilgrim quietly ringing the bell. All of it is part of daily life.

And the food of Shikoku is exceptional as well. Fresh seafood from the Seto Inland Sea—sea bream, pike conger, octopus. Wild mountain vegetables and river fish from the Shikoku Mountains. The dishes are simple, but the quality of the ingredients shines through. Unlike the elaborate plates of fine dining, here you truly feel that you are receiving life itself.

Accommodation is diverse as well. At traditional temple lodgings, you can join the early morning service, enjoy shojin ryori Buddhist vegetarian cuisine, and spend a quiet night on tatami mats.

And the food of Shikoku is exceptional as well. Fresh seafood from the Seto Inland Sea—sea bream, pike conger, octopus. Wild mountain vegetables and river fish from the Shikoku Mountains. The dishes are simple, but the quality of the ingredients shines through. Unlike the elaborate plates of fine dining, here you truly feel that you are receiving life itself.

After dinner, you may sit by the hearth and share casual conversation with the innkeeper or hostess. “How far did you walk today?” “Are your feet okay?” “It may rain tomorrow, so take care.” In those moments, there is a pure human connection that goes beyond efficiency or profit. Whether through broken Japanese or simple gestures, hearts still connect. It is the true spirit of Japanese sincerity.

One European business leader reflected on a night spent at a henro inn this way: “They did not know who I was. They did not know what kind of work I did, or how much wealth I had. They simply welcomed me warmly as a traveler who had walked a long way. I cannot express how precious that experience was.”

At the same time, in recent years, “luxury kominka retreats” and “decentralized hotels” have become more common, offering refined stays that blend the beauty of historic architecture with modern comfort. For example, in a private inn created from a 200-year-old samurai residence, you may find a hinoki bath, a private dinner prepared with local ingredients, and complete silence—all prepared just for you.

The Shikoku Pilgrimage is a rare journey where “inconvenience” and “luxury” coexist. And that very diversity speaks to the remarkable openness of this pilgrimage route, which welcomes every kind of traveler.

6. Conclusion: The Shikoku Pilgrimage Is the Most Luxurious Form of Self-Investment in the World

What you learn in business school is strategy and frameworks. What executive coaching offers is goal setting and techniques for improving performance. But true self-transformation does not happen in a classroom. It happens when you sweat, endure pain, face solitude, and encounter the kindness of strangers—in other words, only through lived experience.

The Shikoku Pilgrimage is a place where Zen is not understood only with the mind, but embodied through the body. The time for reading books is over. What you need to do now is set foot on the soil of Shikoku, feel the wind, and take that first step.

When you have finished walking the 1,200 km, you will realize something. What has changed is not the landscape. It is you.

Your thoughts will be clearer, your intuition sharper, and your judgment more steady. And above all, you will understand more deeply than ever before who you truly are.

When you return from Shikoku, you will be more refined—not only as a business leader, but as a human being.

That is why the Shikoku Pilgrimage is the most luxurious form of self-investment in the world.

Are you ready? The majestic nature of Shikoku, the true culture of Japan, and the road itself are waiting for you.