Two Arrows Zen

12/24/2025

Tonight, many people are gathering.
Some are traveling.
Some are cooking.
Some are missing someone.
Some are holding joy and sorrow at the same time.

In Zen, we don’t have a special ceremony for Christmas Eve — and that, too, is a teaching.

Practice isn’t something we step into only when conditions are quiet or ideal. It lives in the middle of our actual lives: in conversations that matter, in rooms that feel full, in moments that are tender or complicated or unscripted.

If tonight is busy, let it be busy.
If tonight is lonely, let it be lonely.
If tonight is joyful, let it be joyful.

You don’t need to make anything special happen.

Maybe practice tonight is as simple as noticing your breath while washing dishes. Listening fully to the person across from you. Allowing yourself to feel what’s here without fixing it or pushing it away.

Zen isn’t separate from the holidays.
It’s how we meet them.

Wherever you are tonight — may you feel held by something larger than your plans.
May you rest, even briefly, in presence.
May you know that this moment, just as it is, is already enough.

— Two Arrows Zen

12/24/2025

12/22/2025

The Zen patriarch and poet Ikkyū Sōjun once said something that sounds almost absurd at first:

“I wish I had something to give you, but in Zen we have nothing.”

At Christmas, when everything around us is about giving — buying, wrapping, offering more — Ikkyū’s words land like a quiet bell.

Zen’s “nothing” isn’t a lack. It’s not indifference. It’s not withdrawal from the world. It’s an invitation to notice what can’t be wrapped, purchased, or placed under a tree. Ikkyū was pointing to the kind of gift that doesn’t come from accumulation, but from presence.

At its best, Christmas already touches this truth. A shared meal. A moment of real listening. Sitting quietly with someone who doesn’t need to be fixed. Showing up without agenda. These are gifts that don’t come from having more — they come from being here.

Ikkyū lived outside convention. He mistrusted polished religion and empty rituals, and he cared deeply about honesty, intimacy, and compassion that actually touched real lives. When he said Zen has nothing to give, he was reminding us that the most meaningful offering isn’t something we add — it’s something we stop withholding.

And if we stay with that “nothing” a little longer, another question quietly emerges:

What is it that we ever truly possess?

Our things pass on.
Our roles change.
Our health, our certainty, even our identities shift again and again.
What we call “mine” is always on loan — time, youth, relationships, breath.

Zen’s “nothing” isn’t nihilism. It’s honesty.

Nothing we cling to can really be held. And because of that, the only real gift is what can’t be owned in the first place: attention, sincerity, care offered without grasping. The moments that stay with us are rarely the objects. They’re the conversations that softened something. The quiet presence that said, you don’t have to be anyone else right now.

Zen has nothing to give because nothing was ever ours to begin with.
And in seeing that, something loosens.

Maybe this season isn’t about acquiring more — or even giving more —
maybe it’s about trusting what’s already here,
and sharing it while we can.

May we hold lightly.
May we give freely.
May we remember that what truly matters was never something we could possess.

— Two Arrows Zen

12/20/2025

With Christmas just around the corner, many of us are thinking about gifts — not just what to buy, but what actually helps someone we love feel supported, grounded, and cared for.

One meaningful option is the gift of Zen.

A Day of Zen is a chance to slow down after the rush of the holidays and begin the new year with steadiness and clarity. It’s not about becoming a Buddhist or doing something mysterious. It’s about learning how to sit, breathe, and be present — with guidance, structure, and the support of a committed sangha.

Who couldn’t use a little more Zen in their life right now?

Giving someone the gift of meditation is a way of saying, I care about your well-being. It’s a gift that doesn’t add clutter or pressure. Instead, it offers tools that can be returned to again and again — especially when life feels busy, overwhelming, or uncertain.

Our next Day of Zen with Michael Mugaku Zimmerman Roshi takes place in January, making it a beautiful way to step out of the holiday whirlwind and into the new year with intention. Participants receive clear posture and breath instruction — the essence of Zen practice — in a welcoming, grounded environment.

If you’re looking for a Christmas gift that feels thoughtful, generous, and lasting, this might be just the thing.

More information and registration at twoarrowszen.org

Because presence is a gift — and it’s one we can share.

12/19/2025

As the year comes to a close, we want to thank you—not just for your financial support, but for being part of a living practice community. Two Arrows Zen exists because people like you believe that spaces for awakening, care, and connection matter.

This December, we set a goal of $32,000 to support the center’s work in 2025. Thanks to your generosity, we’ve already raised $21,000—and we’re working now to close the remaining gap before year’s end.

Earlier this fall, members of our community gathered to reflect on what Two Arrows Zen most needs going forward. Three priorities emerged:
• Making our teachings and resources more accessible and better preserved
• Developing high-quality online offerings so practice can meet people where they are
• Strengthening outreach so those who are searching can find this work

These efforts are about continuity—ensuring that practice, teaching, and community remain available now and into the future.

If you haven’t yet made an end-of-year contribution, we invite you to do so today. Your gift, in any amount, directly helps close the gap and sustain this work into 2025.

12/19/2025

Figures like Santa Claus and Bodhidharma come from very different worlds, yet they function in a similar way. They are not only historical figures or cultural characters; they are vessels for meaning. Over time, stories gather around them. Details blur. Symbols grow. Eventually, people begin debating whether the figure is “real.”

That question, while understandable, can distract us from what matters most.

A map is not the territory. A story is not the experience. A symbol is not the truth itself. When we confuse the container for the content, we risk missing what the teaching is actually pointing toward.

Santa does not require belief in order to do his work. He points toward generosity, care, and the capacity for wonder. Bodhidharma does not ask us to defend a legend. He points toward direct experience, disciplined practice, and the courage to see clearly.

Belief becomes limiting when we cling to the story and stop living the values it carries. Disbelief becomes limiting when we dismiss the story and lose the invitation altogether. Practice lives in a middle place—where we can appreciate form without mistaking it for the point.

Zen is not interested in proving myths or dismantling them. It is interested in how we live. How we practice. How we embody what we have received.

In the end, the question is not whether the hero is real.
The question is whether the teaching is alive.

That is where practice begins.

12/17/2025

Two Arrows Zen — Lineage Ancestor: Nishiari Bokusan Roshi
Born: November 17, 1821 · Died: December 4, 1910

Nishiari Bokusan Roshi is one of the most important — and least recognized — ancestors in the Sōtō Zen lineage. Quite simply, without him, most of us would not know Dōgen Zenji in the way we do today.

Living through the upheaval of the Meiji period, when Japanese Buddhism was under real threat of marginalization, Nishiari understood that Zen could not survive on ritual alone. He devoted his life to the careful study, teaching, and revival of Dōgen’s Shōbōgenzō at a time when Dōgen’s writings were rarely studied and often poorly understood. Nishiari insisted that Dōgen was not merely a historical founder, but a living voice essential to Zen practice.

Nishiari held some of the most influential positions in modern Sōtō Zen. He served as abbot of Sōjiji, one of the two head temples of the Sōtō school, taught at what later became Komazawa University, and eventually became chief priest of the entire Sōtō school. From these roles, he reshaped how Zen was taught, studied, and transmitted in modern Japan.

His students carried this influence forward in decisive ways. Among them were teachers who went on to shape modern Zen practice, including figures in the line that leads to Baian Hakujun Kuroda Roshi, and through Kuroda to Taizan Maezumi Roshi and the White Plum lineage. Other students and heirs influenced teachers such as Kōdō Sawaki and, indirectly, Shunryū Suzuki Roshi, placing Nishiari quietly upstream of much of Zen as it is practiced today — in Japan and in the West.

Nishiari Bokusan Roshi was not a dramatic reformer. His work was slower and deeper. He preserved the intellectual and practice foundations of Sōtō Zen so that later generations could adapt, translate, and transmit without losing the spine of the tradition.

When we read Dōgen today — when we sit zazen shaped by his vision — we are practicing inside a lineage that Nishiari Bokusan helped save.

We bow in gratitude to a teacher who kept the source alive.

12/15/2025

Baian Hakujun Kuroda Roshi
Born: January 24, 1898
Died: October 14, 1974

Baian Hakujun Kuroda Roshi stands as one of the quiet pillars of modern Sōtō Zen. Born in Japan at the end of the Meiji era, Kuroda Roshi was trained deeply in the classical forms of Sōtō monastic practice and became abbot of Shōju-in, a small temple known for its seriousness rather than its size or reputation.

Kuroda Roshi was not a public reformer or cultural bridge figure. His contribution was subtler and, in many ways, more demanding. He emphasized zazen as the heart of Zen, practiced without embellishment, without gain, and without shortcuts. For Kuroda, sitting was not preparation for awakening — it was the expression of awakening itself.

He was known for insisting on form, discipline, and quiet fidelity to practice. In an era when Zen was beginning to modernize and adapt, Kuroda Roshi preserved the depth of Sōtō training by refusing to dilute it. His teaching embodied the conviction that Zen does not need constant explanation — it needs to be practiced.

Among those who trained with Kuroda Roshi was Taizan Maezumi Roshi, who later became a central figure in the transmission of Zen to the West. Kuroda also trained and influenced other Japanese Sōtō priests who carried this same emphasis on form and zazen into the next generation, even if their names are less widely known today.

Kuroda Roshi’s life reminds us that Zen is often carried forward not by those who innovate loudly, but by those who hold the center steady. Through his teaching, the simple act of sitting — just sitting — continues to be transmitted across generations and cultures.

We bow in gratitude to a teacher whose quiet fidelity made much else possible.

12/14/2025

In this video, Mugaku Roshi speaks to what it means to practice together—and why sangha matters.

Two Arrows Zen exists to offer real practice in the midst of real life. We provide teachings, community, and refuge for people navigating uncertainty, loss, awakening, and the everyday work of being human—here in Salt Lake City, in Torrey, and online around the world.

As we come to the end of the year, we invite you to help sustain this work. The ability to keep our doors open, offer programs, and make practice accessible to all depends on shared generosity.

If this sangha has supported you, or if you believe places like this are essential, please consider making an end-of-year gift.

Give here:
https://twoarrowszen.app.neoncrm.com/forms/generosity2025

Thank you for helping carry this practice forward into the coming year.

12/14/2025

What does it take to keep a real place of practice alive in the middle of real life?

In this video, Diane Musho Hamilton Roshi speaks honestly about why Two Arrows Zen exists—and what it requires to continue serving people in times of uncertainty, loss, transition, and awakening.

This is not a retreat from the world.
It’s a place to meet it.

Two Arrows offers practice, teaching, and community in Salt Lake City, in Torrey, and online to people across the globe. That work is sustained not by institutions, but by shared generosity.

Your gift helps keep the doors open, the teachings accessible, and the sangha strong—so no one is turned away from practice because of finances or circumstance.

If this practice has supported you, or if you believe spaces like this are essential in today’s world, we invite you to give.

Donate here:
https://twoarrowszen.app.neoncrm.com/forms/generosity2025

Thank you for helping carry this practice forward.

12/12/2025

The new edition of the “Enlightened Times”; ( Two Arrows Zen Newsletter ), is out now. We hope you enjoy reading our latest edition!

12/12/2025

Two Arrows Zen — Remembering Harada Daiun Sōgaku Roshi
December 12, 1961

On December 12, 1961, Harada Daiun Sōgaku Roshi (1871–1961) died at Kakushō-ken, his hermitage near Hōsshin-ji in Obama, Japan. His name is not widely known, yet his influence quietly shapes much of modern Zen practice — especially in the West.

Harada Roshi was born into Sōtō Zen during the Meiji period, when Buddhist training had often become formal and inherited. Ordained young, he followed the expected path of ritual, study, and zazen, but grew deeply dissatisfied. Zen, as he encountered it, too often assumed realization rather than demanding it.

Refusing complacency, Harada sought out rigorous Rinzai kōan training, an unusual and controversial step for a Sōtō priest. Through intense kōan introspection, he experienced verified awakening. Rather than abandoning Sōtō Zen, he returned with a radical conviction: zazen must be alive, tested, and embodied, not merely performed.

From this insight, Harada developed a hybrid approach — Sōtō forms and posture combined with Rinzai kōan inquiry — that reshaped modern Zen. Through his student Hakuun Yasutani Roshi, this current flowed into Western Zen, shaping Sanbō Kyōdan, Diamond Sangha, and many lay-centered communities. This same stream also flows into White Plum Zen through Taizan Maezumi Roshi, placing Harada quietly upstream of our own lineage.

Harada Roshi still matters because much of what defines Zen in the West — accessible kōan practice, strong lay participation, and the insistence that awakening be verified in lived experience — rests on foundations he helped rebuild. His legacy reminds us that lineage survives not through comfort, but through courage.

We bow in gratitude.