Spring on Mount Hiei, just north of Kyoto, Japan, is still quite cold, especially when three buckets of ice-cold water are being poured over a bald head.

I found myself here amid the bitter temperatures for three months, enduring what the Japanese fondly refer to as "the most arduous ascetic training in all of Japan," Gyo-In.

Gyo-In is a residential seminary program for all Tendai Buddhist priests. It instructs priests in the rudimentary components of temple life and the facets of religious life that are necessary for leading a congregation and being a productive spiritual guide in society. I was sent to Gyo-In by my spiritual master, Archbishop Ryokan Ara of the Tendai Mission of Hawaii. Bishop Ara and I shared a reverse karma of sorts; he, having spent the last 30-some years here in Hawai'i developing the Tendai faith and I, having resided in Japan for over a decade.

The seminary program may appear short by Western standards but all applicants have had several years of intense academic study within Japanese Buddhism. Several of us possessed advanced degrees in religious studies but on average, no amount of academic prowess would prepare us for the trials we were to face.

Day one began with no lack of discipline as we were indoctrinated into the components of temple life. Each student was given a small cabinet to house his personal articles (which consisted of little more than toilet articles, robes, textbooks and religious items) and one rectangular "tatami" space on the floor upon which to sleep. Space was at a premium as we quickly learned that privacy was a rare commodity in a traditional temple.

Our second day introduced us to the severity of the program. We hiked up Mount Hiei, through often-treacherous terrain. A veteran of military service, I was surprised how arduous the course was and how out of shape a man can become. The course we trekked visited numerous temples along the way to pray and ask for support from our fellow Tendai priests. Returning late at night, our heads hit the small pillows and a deep sleep followed.

The first month of the seminary regimen focused exclusively on religious life in a temple, centering mostly upon liturgical services. Day in and day out, we experienced various religious ceremonies and learned how incredibly difficult it was to master the intricacies of temple life. For this Westerner, sitting in formal "seiza" (seated posture upon the knees) was excruciating. Over the three-month period, I'd lose all feeling in the tops of both feet.

We studied the lore of Japanese spiritual practices as well as the deep history from which Buddhism awoke. During the morning hours, before the sun had a chance even to caress the horizon, we entered the main worship hall to hold an hour-long devotional service. These devotional services were a wonderful gateway of sorts for me to experience the pious attitude and deep reverence for spiritual matters that the Japanese hold dear. Although we fought to stay awake and our knees and backs ached with pain, we quickly became proficient in the facets of conducting the various religious services. After this, our morning meal was simple, consisting of rice gruel and one small cup of tea. Meals were taken in complete silence and at a rapid pace.

Our afternoons were filled with classroom instruction where I struggled to keep pace with my Japanese compatriots as the wealth of material (and homework) built daily. I was unprepared for the level of classical Japanese but found wonderful support from my fellow students who smiled and shared that they also guessed a lot.

During these study sessions, we were forced to prioritize the material into digestible components. There was simply no means of completing all the reading assignments and taking ample notes under the Masters who gave the lectures. Instead, we needed to dig beneath the surface and decipher the true import. With constant testing, we soon learned how to pierce the weight of the material and create practical outlines.

Evenings found us engaging in intensive bouts of meditation within the same prayer hall. I was amazed at the complete silence of the dark hall, lit only by a few candles. A small noise such as the stir of one's robes reverberated against the walls. Sitting in utter silence and looking within, these sessions were enlightening and provided us with the empty space to truly engage the self. Many emotions, memories and issues arose during those long nights, all components within the recipe for spiritual realization.

Between our first and second month, we engaged in a practice known as the "3,000 Prostrations." For three days, for some 12 hours a day, we performed 1,000 prostrations in Buddhist fashion. Many thought of ourselves as being in shape but by the end of the first day, our legs felt weighted, our backs creaked in agonizing pain and our heads throbbed. This was indeed one of the most arduous aspects of the entire Gyo-In program and one in which we learned the true meaning of respect and endeavor.

Our second month, we switched gears completely. All academic study stopped and we entered the very rigorous ascetic training segment. We awoke at 2 each morning, sometimes getting no more than three or four hours of rest. Spring was beginning to turn to summer but still, the mountain was bathed in a chilly mist as we exited our sleeping quarters to pour three buckets of iced water over our heads (shaved bald which added some depth to the teeth-chattering!).

The practice of dousing one's self with cold water is a type of ascetic practice known for actually warming up the body and creating spiritual energy to endure the rigors ahead. After this, we trekked into the black night air to fetch offering water for the prayer hall and engaged in the performance of esoteric rituals for 18 hours a day during this second month.

Here was where we found the breaking point of the body. We were utterly exhausted and it was often a strain merely to keep one's eyes open, let alone conduct religious rites. I learned that faith was the elixir to bridge the limits of the body. Reaching outside the confines of the limited ego, a new self emerged.

Each day brought a sense of heightened spiritual capacity. If we were to serve our communities as religious ministers and administer to the needs of people, it was important that we invest within ourselves the mindset to see the universality of all people's suffering and the desire of all people to live a fulfilling existence. Regardless of race or culture, it was imperative that we transcend boundaries and strike toward the spiritual reservoir of personal actualization in order to be an effective spiritual instrument in daily life.

My own experience in this regard shook me to the core. In whatever fashion we demonstrate our spiritual quest, it is an intimate thing. It requires that we be alarmingly honest with ourselves and perceptive enough to see spiritual reality on its own terms, not what we would have it be.

Once "through the door" and "with open eyes," how we actualize ourselves as competent, blessed human beings is a magnificent, pure canvas upon which to paint our own, very personal stories.

Graduation day approached after what seemed like three years, not three months. Out of a class of 26 candidates, 19 of us were presented with our certificates as religious missionaries. We had endured what many fondly called "trekking through hell to find heaven."

As our minds opened and our hearts emptied, it was a supreme pleasure to look back over our shoulders as we left what had been our home for the past few months and know that wherever we were going onward to, we'd always carry a bit of Gyo-In with us.

The Rev. Jion Prosser is a minister at the Tendai Mission of Hawaii and an adjunct professor of religious studies at Chaminade University.