The Zenjo
- 座禅場
Making space for life to move.
About
I began my career in business and technology, working between Japan and Sweden.
For years, I believed innovation and systems could solve the world’s problems.
But again and again,
I saw progress slowed — not by technology, but by human ego, fear, and division.
So I turned to inner development.
Yoga. Breathwork. Leadership programs.
They offered tools.
But something essential was still missing.
The more we tried to train people to grow, the more unnatural it felt.
Growth shouldn’t be forced.
Then I remembered Matsuri.
In Japan, people don’t learn connection through workshops or coaching.
They grow up inside it.
Through rhythm, food, shared effort, and celebration, community happens naturally.
No curriculum. No leaders and followers.
Just life moving together.
The Zenjo is my way of holding that kind of space.
Who I am
Maki Kobayashi - 小林 麻紀
I’ve burned out, broken patterns, and built a path that didn’t exist.
I didn’t find The Zenjo — I forged it, breath by breath, beat by beat.
I’ve trained in things that sound impressive —
corporate strategy, yoga, martial arts, breathwork, even ice baths.
But none of them matter unless they help us remember how to feel alive.For me, that means movement. Rhythm. Breath. Laughing until something shifts.
Not to escape, but to return — to this moment, this fire, this body.
I don’t lead as an expert.
I show up as a woman who’s still walking, still figuring it out.
I lead with my drum, with my mistakes, and with the joy that somehow keeps showing up.
If you’re tired of trying to fix yourself, but know your spark isn’t gone —
Welcome. You’re home.
The Rhythm of Aliveness
What if being alive — truly alive — is not about doing more,
but about returning to the essence of who we are?
The Art of Being Alive is not a destination, but a rhythm.
Sometimes still, sometimes wild. Sometimes light, sometimes heavy.
And within it, there is a quiet fire — the one that only you can tend.
A Flame Beyond Logic
AI is advancing rapidly. It can think, write, and speak — sometimes better than we can. The world of the mind is no longer ours alone. But that doesn’t make us less valuable.
It calls us back to what no algorithm can touch: The warmth of another hand. The breath that grounds us. The quiet strength of being fully present.
We are not here to outsmart machines. We are here to connect — with the Earth, with each other, and with something greater than thought itself.
True intelligence lives in stillness. In rhythm. In compassion. In the way we choose to live, even when no one is watching.
The future is uncertain. But maybe that’s a gift. Because in uncertainty, we remember: We don’t need to be perfect to be whole. We don’t need to do more to be enough.
We are not machines. We are life itself. And that, in all its mystery, is the greatest beauty of all.
