Every morning since March 23rd, 2020, the Japanese Taiko drummer Ken Koshio climbs up the mountain to perform a sunrise ritual. Sometimes, he passes me with the drum on his shoulders at an incredible speed and there is no sign of tiredness. He is a mountain himself. He started the ritual in honour of Lori Ann Piestewa. She died during the Iraq war on March 23, 2003. Ken will continue this ritual until 2023. He considers it as great practice and discipline.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ken carrying his drum on his way down to the parking lot of Piestewa Peak

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ken Koshio and his drum

 

 

His ceremony attracts a large group of supporters who gather before sunrise to celebrate the arrival of a new day. Over time, I got to know many of them. The characteristics for this group of people is inclusion and warm connection. There is a unity despite different nationalities, religion, age, gender and race. Marisa, the “Mother of this Mountain”, knows them all and is the big connector. People bring food and hot tea and a guy named David even carries up a camping coffee maker and serves coffee to everybody who wants a cup. This was especially appreciated when the temperature during winter was around freezing.

 

 

 

 

 

Ken Koshio Family

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From left to right – Marisa, Eriko, I and Melissa

 

 

 

 

 

 

Birthday of Irvin Foster, a member of the Navajo Nation

The coffee set brought up by David stands beside him

 

 

 

 

 

Celebration of Hanukkah

 

 

Although there are many cultural and personal celebrations, when Ken Koshio starts his music, everybody is silent.  His drumming and songs become more and more powerful with the sun rising above the horizon. He recites an ancient song performed every 20 years for the rebuilding of the Ise Shrine, the most sacred site in Japan in honour of the sun goddess Amaterasu. His whole body becomes pure energy and I can see why he is calling himself a warrior of peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ken Koshio

 

 

 

 

 

 

Celebration of the New Year, 2021

 

 

 

 

Unknown person with a Didgeridoo

 

During the celebration, often a little bird with an injured, stiff leg hops around without being restrained. This little bird symbolises the magic of this mountain. I call Piestewa Peak the “Mountain of letting go”. It is a mountain of transformation. Climbing up the mountain on a regular basis has changed the life of many people. It requires strong determination, strength and flexibility at the same time. There is Daryl, who is legally blind – he gets up at 2 am every morning and has to take two public buses in addition to having to walk one mile to get to the bus. Now, with the weather being warm, he rides for several hours his bike to the mountain. There is Jeremy who lost his arm and climbs like a mountain goat (takes part in the Paralympic competitions) and a person with only one leg, who makes it to the top with two supporting walking sticks. Every morning, two friends, Ruben and Sam, climb up the steep slope at the ages of 85 and 86 and always have smiles on their faces. The mountain also helped many others to heal from different psychological challenges.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rubin climbing up to the top with his two self made walking sticks

 

 

People dressed up for Christmas and even brought a Christmas tree up to the top. Sometimes, you hear a person loudly reciting a mantra when dancing down the mountain and most of the time there is chatter between people, often in Spanish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is Christmas!

 

 

Rain is rare in Phoenix, but when it rains, the rocks can become dangerously slippery.  However, most of the time the clouds disappear after sunrise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunrise with Camelback mountain in the east.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blooming Ocotillo cactus beside the path.

Although walking down is faster and easier, it still needs focus and attention. Sometimes a desert animal crosses the path.

 

 

 

 

Gila Monster bathing in the sun

 

 

 

Little Squirrel asking for food

 

 

This photo of a bobcat I took in my yard, but its home is in the mountain range of Piestewa Peak.

 

 

 

 

MAGICAL PIESTEWA PEAK, PART 1

 

 

All over the world, there exist sacred mountains, places believed to be the home of Gods or spirits. For hundreds of years, temples, shrines, churches and monasteries were built on these sites and always, these places have a special energy – they touch something deep in the human being.

Indigenous people, however, often leave these places untouched, believing in the sacredness of pristine, untouched nature. They know that there is no need to add anything. A mountain, river, cave or tree speaks for itself and is sacred by its suchness, just by what it is. St. Francis of Assisi knew it when he said that nature is his church. Shintoism in Japan celebrates the sacredness of nature and believes that nature is “spirited”.

People in our time are looking for this connection.  They want to step out of the isolated individualism of modern life and reconnect with something bigger. They rediscover nature as the big healer, as a place of refuge.

In Phoenix, Arizona, there exist these healing places all over the city. Mountains of all forms and heights are scattered like islands in the big valley. One of them is Piestewa Peak in the Phoenix Mountain Preserve. The Tohone O’odham tribe once living in this area  named it “Vianom Do’ag” (Iron Mountain). It was sacred for them.

I see this mountain from my backyard every day. Like a powerful woman or Buddha in Parinirvana, this mountain radiates calmness and unmovable strength. No wonder that the first settlers named the mountain “Sqaw Peak”.  For many Native Americans, however, the name “Sqaw” was derogatory. It was renamed Piestewa Peak, remembering the first female native American woman killed in combat in 2003.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mountain Range of Piestewa Peak with the Saguaro Cactus surrounded by an Ironwood tree in the foreground. Viewed from our backyard.

 

 

Piestewa Peak is about 800 m high (2610 feet) and consists primarily of schist. Day and night, people climb the mountain, needing between 20 to 60 minutes for the about 2km long hike up to the top. During the night, the lights used by hikers look like little stars moving up and down the mountain.

Nearly every day since coming back to Arizona in December 2020, I climb the mountain to witness the sunrise. It is different seeing the mountain from the distance and really climbing it. When I start to climb the mountain, the mountain disappears and becomes pure experience. It becomes each breath and each step I take, becomes the wind blowing my hair into my face and wild rock formations under my feet.

As I want to witness the slow change from night to dawn, I never use a headlamp. It requires to be focused on each step, as the terrain is very rocky and uneven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

View to the western side of Phoenix from the Piestewa Mountain trail

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Full moon over Phoenix

 

 

Everything lies in a diffuse greyness, as the city lights of Phoenix never allow the area to be totally dark. This is the time of nocturnal animals. You can hear the hooting of the owls calling into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grown up owl

 

 

The sharpness of the silhouettes of the mountain against the arriving morning sky is always stunning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coyotes never show up on the mountain trail. During the hot seasons, however, one has to be aware of scorpions and rattlesnakes. Seven years ago in August, I heard a buzzing noise right beside the trail. When I switched on my headlamp, I saw a rattlesnake disappearing between the rocks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saguaro Cacti standing like guardians along the trail.

 

 

In many curves, the path winds up the mountain. It is not easy to walk. One has to concentrate and choose each step carefully. However, it is a great place to focus and harmonise body and mind. Very often, I practice tonglen (Tibetan practice of compassion) or just focus on breathing. Also, I make it my practice to not create a habitual path. There are uncountable variations of ways to walk the rugged, uneven area.

Usually, when I am two-thirds up the mountain, the sun announces its arrival by illuminating the eastern horizon. A stone bench allows people to rest.

 

 

 

 

 

View towards the east with Camelback Mountain in the background and a Palo Verde tree at the right side

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

People taking a rest near the top

 

 

I am a slow walker and do not like to push my body to its limits. Many people pass me on my way up. The steepest part is near the peak, where a series of stone steps lead up to the top.

 

 

 

 

 

Rugged path

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last part of the climb where I leave the trail and climb the rock to the right

 

 

 

I usually choose to climb an almost vertical rock wall with ideal footage to feel safe. This wild path leads up to my secret chapel, which I created about 2 years ago when my nephew passed away. Ever since then, whenever I am on Piestewa Peak and the wind allows me to, I light a candle and burn a stick of sandalwood incense for all those who are suffering.

 

 

 

 

 

Nearly on the top

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rock chapel

 

 

Early morning on December 15, 2020 after I just came back from Europe, I climbed up the steep slopes of the mountain to a hidden area on the top.A powerful black and white ringed fury tail rushed down the rugged area when I arrived at the chapel and disappeared in a second between the rocks. It was a ringtail cat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ringtail cat (photo taken by Ken Koshio)

 

 

 

I decided to climb up to the top and saw on a nearby rocky point, a drum resting on the edge of the cliff. A guy with black, long hair standing beside it must have carried it up. I was puzzled. Who is this person? I assumed it was a Native American from the Navajo or Hopi tribe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slowly, the sky over the far eastern mountain range turned yellow -orange. It was shortly before sunrise. He started a sacred ritual of greeting the sun with the sound of a double flute. A steady tone supported a graceful melody, harmonizing and preparing the air for what to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Camelback Mountain in the East

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At sunrise, he switched to the drum and started to beat with a power and rhythm I never have seen before. His whole body became one with his drum. He accompanied the beat with a sacred song and it seemed that he was in communication with the sun, celebrating the new arrival of light. I was in awe. In my inner eye I saw  a guy taming a wild bull, forcing it to follow his will. It seemed that the Roman ritual of Mithra came to life again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the end, he played the melody of “Amazing Grace” on a flute. After bowing in all four directions by clapping his hands, he finished with a Yoga pose.

 

 

 

 

Nearly every morning since this day, I hike up to Piestewa peak to be part of this ritual.

 

 

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Again we are pleased to enjoy Garyo’s wonderful walk with text and pictures as a series.