Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Shugyo: A Ritual of Training

In Forrest Morgan’s 1992 book, Living the Martial Way, he defines shugyo as “austere training”. Shugyo is a “ritual observed in some way, shape, or form by every warrior society in the world. It involved hardening the spirit through severe training or some extreme physical test. The ritual takes different forms in different cultures, but they all have a common element: the warrior drives himself, or is driven, to a level of endurance beyond what he previously believed possible. The experience is both grueling and frightening, but the warrior emerges from the ordeal feeling purified. One who has experienced this kind of training is never quite the same afterwards” (Morgan, pg. 59).

Why Shugyo?

For the samuari, shugyo was a way for warriors to build discipline during a time when their very survival depended on the preparedness for battle. So why would people today need to participate in a ritual that is meant to prepare them for a situation that they are not likely to encounter? Psychiatrist and jujutsu stylist, Dr. Alan Hasegawa, explained it best when he wrote: “In an affluent society, it is necessary to purposely seek out the challenges which were once a part of daily life of the warrior. This drive to test the limits of one’s own potential is universal (1987).”

Mr. Morgan recounts a story of shugyo from his days as a nineteen-year old taekwondo student; the story involved intense training during his first martial arts seminar. “Shugyo doesn’t have to take place in the training hall, and if your spirit is strong, you don’t need someone else to drive you on. If fact, undergoing shugyo along, with no one else to motivate you or look after you safety, can temper your spirit like nothing else can. And there’s no warrior ritual more traditional than solitary shugyo” (Morgan, pg. 60). On the seventh of November, nineteen-hundred, ninety-eight, I engaged in the ritual of solitary shugyo; and this paper is a recount of my actions, thoughts, and feelings while climbing the north of the four peaks, east-northeast of Phoenix, Arizona.

Background

Four Peaks, as the group is called, is a part of the Mazatzal Mountains within Tonto National Forest. The peaks are approximately 80 miles east-northeast of Phoenix and the tallest of which is 7,657 feet above sea level. About 800 feet below the north peak is an area known as “the saddle”. It is approximately one thousand feet above the parking area, which is 18 miles of unpaved road away from Arizona State Highway 87. The image above shows the north peak on the left, and “the saddle” below that to the left.

Preparations

Of course, I had been preparing for this ritual throughout my seven-plus years as a martial artist; but for the hike itself, my preparations began the evening before. Knowing that there would be no honor in getting hurt due to lack of preparation, I took this task very seriously. I went to a local supermarket and purchased several liters of water, some Clif bars, and a Met-Rx bar for sustenance. I did not want to be weighted down by heavy food, either in my stomach or on my back, so the bars were an obvious choice. I also purchased batteries for my camera, knowing that I would want to take pictures along my journey.

After returning home from the store, I placed the water in the refrigerator and searched for other items that would be needed: boots, extra socks, gloves, cellular phone, flashlight, my Leatherman multi-tool, and, of course, the camera. With everything laid out and ready to go, I set my alarm clock for 5:40 and went to bed early; sleep was the one thing I was sure I couldn’t buy at the convenience store by the highway before the Four Peaks Road turnoff.

The following morning my wife made me oatmeal and wheat toast for breakfast while I showered, got dressed, finished packing my bag, and loaded up my cooler with water and Gatorade. By seven in the morning, I was on my way.

Half the Fun

They say that getting there is half the fun and for the most part, I disagree; but in this case, the drive was nice. I had the top off of my 1997 Jeep Wrangler and sixty miles per hour makes for some cold wind in the morning, even in Arizona. I must have been a sight to see along the Superstition Freeway, all bundled up in a sweatshirt and gloves, singing along with “Jesus Christ Superstar”. I actually missed my exit for the Beeline Highway and had to double-back, as it turned out, it wouldn’t be the last time I had to turn around that day…

By nine o’clock or so, I had already filled-up my tank with gasoline and was getting ready to start the eighteen-mile climb up Four Peaks Road. I expected the climb to take about an hour and since the going is slow, it always seems to take longer. The road practically requires four-wheel drive, but I didn’t use mine. The biggest problem one faces on that road are the washes (deep trenches formed by water coming down the mountain) and the rocks, so vehicular clearance is the key. I tend to drive fast and love that kind of driving; an average of eighteen miles per hour on that road is a pretty good clip. I reached the parking lot at the trailhead at around ten o’clock, ready to go… My original plan was to ride my mountain bike up to the saddle and hike the rest of the way, but the parks service bans bikes from the trails, so my plan had to be adjusted. Flexibility is the key here, as in life, plans do not always end up being reality and the ability to adjust is the ability to succeed.

Back in the Saddle

The quest for the summit can be broken down into two distinct parts: from the trailhead to the saddle, and from the saddle to the peak. I’d been to the saddle three times previous and to the peak twice, but this will be the first time on my own. The trail to the saddle is pretty easy and it’s my feeling that anyone in reasonable shape can get to the saddle, the key is to avoid stepping on any critters that you encounter along the way.

I reached the saddle by eleven o’clock and took my first break there. I ate one of the Clif bars and downed some Gatorade, then took the time to take a picture of what lay ahead. The crevasse that starts from just to the right of the top and cuts down into the dark is what was in store for me if I wanted to reach the peak. At this point, I thought I’d spend some more time sitting and drinking Gatorade. I figured that if I could reach the saddle on the way down by two in the afternoon, I would make it off of Four Peaks Road by dark.

Into Thin Air

The toughest part about the climb to the peak is the fact that you can never be one-hundred percent sure that the rock you grab to pull yourself up isn’t going to tumble down the mountain with you. A close second to that is the complete lack of direct sunlight and wind-chill factor that brings the temperature of the already-thin air near freezing. Those factors aside, the climb is nothing more than doing about forty pull-ups and a hundred or so “mountain climbers”, which I learned are appropriately named.

My original intent was to hike to the second peak and I thought I could get there by taking a turn off of the trail to the first peak and hiking a quick “down and up”. As it turned out, I was wrong. I spent about forty minutes struggling through some pretty thick brush and pulling cactus needles out of my hands (and rear) before I reached a drop-off that was too high to take safely, along and without ropes. Since discretion is the better part of valor, I chose turn around go for the north peak; getting injured would defeat the purpose of this ritual and only go to show that I lack the judgement necessary to be an effective leader. This is as close as I got to the second peak, which will have to wait for another day.

On Top of the World

It didn’t take me long to reach the north peak after abandoning my quest for the second peak, perhaps another ten minutes. Once on the north peak, I could see Apache and Roosevelt Lakes to the north, as well as back down to the saddle. I took the time to sit for a while, enjoy another Clif bar and some more Gatorade, and of course, take some pictures. The air on the peak is very clear, but the haze that has settled over the city of Phoenix makes it invisible, almost as if the rest of the world had vanished.

Conclusion

The trip back down the mountain was uneventful and I spent a lot of time thinking, as I did during the trip up. I thought about why I chose to undergo the ritual of shugyo and what it would mean to me. I have never thought of myself as someone with “something to prove”, so that was not my motivation. I think it had something to do with just being on my own again, in a manner of speaking. I chose to go when I did for several reasons; the first of which is because it was roughly one year since I first reached the peak. The second reason is because “the idea is to find a memorable occasion that will have emotional significance to those taking part. Then the shugyo serves as a cleansing, a right of passage.” (Morgan, pg. 60) Three weeks before was my wedding day and I can’t think of a more memorable occasion than that.

Perhaps the ritual helped to prepare me for married life, by giving me the confidence I know I’ll need to be a good husband, and someday a good father. Or perhaps the shugyo just served as a chapter marker in my life; the first page of the first chapter of my life together with Brandi. I don’t know. During the trip, I thought about a lot of things and planned on recounting them here, but in retrospect I do not think that was the point of my shugyo. The point was just in the thinking.

I learned about myself that day, spending time alone will do that. I realized that there are some things I like, and others that I don’t. I may not have reached all of my goals during that day, but I think that my understanding about why I am the way I am has improved considerably. And I believe that if I am to understand anyone or anything, I must first understand myself.

References
- Morgan, Forrest E. “Living the Martial Way: A Manual for the Way a Modern Warrior Should Think.” Barricade Books: New York, 1992, pp. 56-61.
- Photos from this day can be found here.

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