Hey there, beautiful souls, and welcome back to Philosophies for Life, the podcast where we dive deep into ancient wisdom and modern insights to help you live a more fulfilling, meaningful life. I’m your host, and I’m so thrilled to be sharing this space with you today. If you’ve been feeling a little lost, restless, or just in need of some grounding, then today’s episode is going to speak straight to your heart. We’re going to explore a powerful story from Japanese Buddhist tradition about a monk named Rizhai and an emperor who learned one of life’s most profound lessons. It’s a tale of silence, self-discovery, and the transformative power of stillness. So, grab a cozy spot, maybe a warm cup of tea, and let’s journey together into this beautiful narrative that reminds us why sometimes, less is truly more.
Let’s start with the story itself. Rizhai was a renowned Buddhist monk in Japan, known far and wide for his meditative depth and enlightened spirit. He lived in solitude, away from the chaos of the world, in a humble hut near a forest. His fame eventually reached the Emperor of Japan, a man who had everything—wealth, power, luxuries beyond imagination. Yet, despite all this, the emperor was plagued by restlessness and anxiety. Sound familiar? I think many of us can relate to that feeling of having so much on the outside, but still feeling empty within. So, the emperor sought out Rizhai and poured out his heart, asking, “Why am I so disturbed? Why is there so much turmoil in my mind when I have everything people dream of?”
Rizhai, in his calm and wise way, responded, “You already know the answer; you’ve just never searched within yourself. Are you willing to try an experiment that could end this unrest?” Eager for peace, the emperor agreed. Rizhai’s challenge was simple yet profound: for ten days, the emperor would live as an ordinary person in the ashram, speaking as little as possible and spending his time in solitude. What unfolded over those ten days is nothing short of magical. On the first day, the emperor’s mind was a storm—louder and more chaotic than ever. But by staying silent and sitting alone, something shifted. By the second day, he began to notice the beauty of nature around him—flowers, birds, the rustling leaves. For the first time, he truly saw the world. As the days passed, his inner turmoil quieted, and by the fifth day, he slipped into deep meditation without even trying. By the end of the ten days, he was filled with infinite peace and joy, and he realized the root of his unrest: he had been speaking too much, cluttering his mind with unnecessary words and thoughts, which spilled over into failure, frustration, and a dull life.
When he shared this revelation with Rizhai, the monk nodded and added a teaching from Gautam Buddha himself, who once said, “The sharpest knife in the world is our tongue, which kills without bloodshed.” Buddha also taught that silence is the first step to hearing the divine within us, to knowing ourselves. Rizhai echoed this, saying that most people waste their lives speaking excessively, losing control over their minds in the process. I love how this story culminates in the emperor’s realization that meditation isn’t something you do—it happens naturally when you’re still, calm, and silent.
Let’s pause for a moment and reflect on this. How often do we fill our days with words—chatter, gossip, endless mental loops of worry or overthinking? I’ll confess, I’ve been guilty of this myself. I remember a time when I’d talk just to fill the silence, whether it was at a family gathering or even on this podcast in the early days. But over time, I noticed something: the more I spoke without purpose, the more scattered I felt. My mind was like a cluttered desk—nothing could find its place. And that’s what Rizhai and Buddha are pointing to here. Our words are powerful; they’re a reflection of our inner state. As the Indian Upanishads say, our words are “Brahmashakti”—our inner life force, our knowledge. When we misuse them, we lose our silence, which is the foundation of a calm and centered life. Isn’t that profound? Silence isn’t just the absence of sound; it’s the presence of peace, the gateway to patience, meditation, and ultimately, self-awareness.
This story also touches on something universal: the struggle for mental and emotional well-being. The emperor had wealth and status—things we often chase in our modern lives, thinking they’ll bring happiness. But his restlessness shows us that true peace isn’t in external achievements; it’s in mastering our inner world. And isn’t it interesting how his journey mirrors what many of us experience in relationships, too? How often do misunderstandings or arguments arise because we speak too much or too hastily? I’ve seen this in my own life—times when I’ve said things I didn’t mean, just because I couldn’t hold space for silence. And on the flip side, some of the deepest connections I’ve formed have been in moments of quiet, just being with someone, no words needed.
So, what can we take from this story and apply to our own lives? Let’s break it down into some practical steps. First, let’s experiment with silence, just like the emperor did. For the next few days, challenge yourself to speak only when necessary. Before you say something, ask yourself: Is this kind? Is it true? Is it needed? You might be surprised how much mental clutter clears up when you cut out the excess noise. Second, carve out time for solitude. It doesn’t have to be ten days in a forest—maybe it’s ten minutes in the morning, sitting quietly with your thoughts, or taking a walk without your phone. Notice the world around you—the way the wind feels, the colors of the sky. Let nature teach you stillness. And third, reflect on how your words impact your life. Are they building you up, or are they tearing you down? Are they helping others, or are they creating distance? Start small, but be intentional. As Buddha said, “In silence, I can hear the divine within me.” Let’s give ourselves that gift.
I also want to add a little humor here because, let’s be honest, silence can feel awkward at first. I tried this once at a dinner party—decided I’d only speak when absolutely necessary. My friends thought I was mad at them! But after I explained, we all laughed, and it actually led to a deeper conversation about how much we all talk just to fill the void. So, don’t be afraid if it feels strange initially. Lean into it. You’re rewiring years of habit.
As we wrap up today’s episode, I want to leave you with this: the story of Rizhai and the emperor isn’t just about a monk and a king; it’s about you and me. It’s a reminder that peace isn’t something we find out there—it’s something we cultivate within, starting with silence. We’ve learned that our words are powerful, but so is our stillness. We’ve seen how cluttering our minds with unnecessary talk can rob us of focus, success, and joy, while embracing quiet can lead us to meditation and self-discovery. So, I invite you to take this challenge with me. Let’s speak less, listen more, and sit in solitude, even if just for a few moments each day. I truly believe this small shift can bring a ripple of positive change into our lives.
Thank you for joining me on Philosophies for Life. If this episode resonated with you, share it with someone who might need a little stillness in their life. And until next time, remember: sometimes, the loudest truths are spoken in silence. Take care, beautiful souls, and I’ll see you soon.