Photo/Illutration Zuishinmon gate is the entrance to the stone steps leading to the pilgrimage route to Mount Haguro. Visitors walk through a stunning forest lined with hundreds of towering cedar trees and climb 2,446 steps to reach the main shrine. (Photo by Lisa Vogt)

I peered at the humble torii and Zuishinmon gate, then back at my rental car navigation screen.

I looked to my right and left, then at my rear-view mirror once again to make sure that I had come to the right place. Hmm, I guess so, I said to myself. I parked my vehicle and got out.

As Dewa Sanzan in Yamagata Prefecture is designated as a Japan Heritage site, I had imagined a more touristy place. Instead, I seemed to have come to some sleepy backwater shrine in the middle of nowhere.

Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), Japan's most famous poet, must have had a similar sentiment when he visited and wrote in “The Narrow Road to the Deep North” his famous haiku: “Quiet stillness/ penetrate into the stone/ cicadas’ rasps.”

Dewa Sanzan is made up of three mystical mountains. Mount Haguro symbolizes the real world we live in, one that’s made up of earthly desires. Mount Gassan, the highest and least accessible, especially in winter, represents the future or afterlife. Mount Yudono, considered the holiest of the three, is rebirth.

The sacredness of nature, especially mountains, has been revered in Japan from ancient times. Yamabushi are mountain worshippers who meditate under waterfalls, fast, recite sutras and engage in various forms of training that demand physical endurance.

Mount Haguro is the heart of Haguro Shugendo, a spiritual practice about finding oneself and being reborn by becoming one with the mountain. Or, something like that. I think.

Japanese see gods in everything--8 million "kami" (gods) exist, I hear people say. Tilt your head, and “8” is the infinity symbol. Yes, and in kanji (八), the shape looks like a mountain.

I confess that before visiting this sacred place, I used to think that seeing a mountain as a god was a bit strange, but folks, I think I see the light!

As I quietly walked the mountain, it dawned on me--hey, dawn is daylight in the morning, to emerge from darkness--oh, back to my revelation. For Japan, lush mountains are what have enabled people to live on this land.

Rain falls on mountains and makes trees and vegetation grow there, which sustains wildlife and creates rivers that flow to where humans live, enabling people and communities to forage and produce food. It makes perfect sense that a mountain is god, more so than some judgmental bearded man in the sky.

Mount Haguro is a place for introspection. The muted vibe allows people to sway in and out of dimensions. A respectful bow to the mountain.

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This article by Lisa Vogt, a Washington-born and Tokyo-based photographer, originally appeared in the April 4 issue of Asahi Weekly. It is part of her new series "Lisa’s Wanderings Around Japan," which depicts various places across the country through the perspective of the author, a professor at Meiji University.

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