3. Meoto-iwa, or wedded rocks: Located, off the coast of Mie Peninsula, the two rocks are worshipped as Shinto deities. Dedicated to Izanami and Izanagi, divine creators of Japanese islands, they symbolize the union of man and woman. The tori gate atop the husband (larger rock), and the rope made of rice straw (shimenawa) that connects them, signify the rocks are sacred.

4. Tori gate at the entrance to the primeval forest. Adorned with white zig-zag streamers (shide), it signifies the area is sacred – countless gods and spirits are believed to lurk amid the ancient cedars.

5. Sensing divine power: (A) at Nachi, Japan’s tallest waterfall, admired for its natural beauty and worshipped as the dwelling of Shinto gods (B) on the edge of Winter Solstice Tunnel at Hiroshi Sugimoto’s meditative garden in Enoura Observatory (C) at Ise, Japan’s holiest shrine, where rocks demarcate an empty patch of ground – clearing in a forest -- prepared for kamis.

6. Ritual cleaning (and raking) of sacred grounds at Meji Jingu Shrine in Tokyo, as the day breaks on New Year’s morning. For the Japanese, who revere Amaterasu (the Sun goddess) as their most important deity, the first sunrise of the year (hatsuhinode) holds special significance. So does ritual cleansing and preparation of grounds for deities.

7. Branches of sakaki tree decorated with zig-zag strips of washi paper (tamagushi )-- an offering presented to kamis during festivals, celebrations and rituals in Shinto shrines. The ever-green leaves allude

8. Stone statute of slender Kannon (female bodhisattva) overgrown with moss. Loved for its fragile beauty and modesty, moss is cherished in Japan as a symbol of resilience and stead-fastness. Because it does not develop roots, it also exemplifies ability to live without attachments –a virtue that Buddhism elevates as a path to enlightenment. Ideally suited to Japan’s humid climate and thriving in the most uninviting environments, moss can often be found in dark forests, gardens, cemeteries, covering trees, rocks and stones.

9. On a frosty morning, rays of sun slide amid branches of a pine tree and on the roof shingles of a Buddhist temple. In moments like that, any differences between the realm of nature and human-built environment become obliterated. Everything seems to sing in unison.

10. Mt. Fuji, Japan’s highest peak, recognized all over the world and admired for its ideal proportions and perfect, conical shape. To the Japanese, though, Fuji is not merely a mountain, but a sublime being – a living god that inspires both love and fear.

11. Stone basin at an entrance to a temple garden. Visitors cleanse their hands and mouths to prepare themselves for the spiritual encounter.

12. Islands, which in Buddhism symbolize of paradise, are archetypal motives in Japanese gardens. Whether situated on natural ponds, or presented as abstract compositions of rocks on sand and gravel, they underscore the idea that a garden itself is a form of paradise – it affords its visitors a chance to commune with gods.

13. In Japan, garden care is viewed as a spiritual endeavor. Here, a nun tends to moss in the Engakuji Zen temple, in Kamakura. Zen elevates physical work, believing that the repetition of mundane, everyday tasks, can lead to enlightenment.

14. Gardens fuse Japanese awe and respect for the powerful forces of nature, with the need to shape and control it. Visible here are examples of such endeavors: (A) yukizuri – conical structures, built of ropes attached to bamboo poles, used to protect branches of trees and shrubs from being damaged during heavy snowfall. (B) straw covers protecting fragile rose bushes against frost (C) bamboo poles supporting an old pine tree; pines in Japanese gardens have often been transplanted from cliffs and mountains, or trained so as to resemble contorted trees found in such natural settings.

15. Japanese gardens manifest and celebrate one of the central truths of Buddhism – nothing lasts, nothing is finished, nothing is perfect. Patience and focused attention with which monks rake, brush, sweep, clean and weed their gardens is a form of meditation – it allows them to embrace change, ephemerality, and imperfection. Here, a monk is raking the dry landscape garden in the Daigo-ji temple in Kyoto. Given the nature of the material – unstable sand or gravel – efforts to maintain such a garden may seem futile. Paradoxically, though, it is through trivial, repetitive tasks that man can challenge and tame powerful Nature. Every sweeping and re-raking of gravel and sand creates the garden anew, even though nothing becomes different from what it was before. The process underscores continuity through change. Against the passage of time – despite the wind, rain, gravity – karesensui garden can maintain its identity; it does not change, does not grow old, doesn’t disappear.

16. A moment of contemplation in front of the abstract garden – a living scroll - on the veranda of Daigoji temple in Kyoto. Many Japanese gardens are designed not to be entered, but viewed like a painting, a three-dimensional composition infused with hidden meanings and metaphors. Similar (and influenced by) to ink-wash paintings, sketched with fewest possible brush strokes, the design always leaves room for imagination. Viewers are asked to engage their feelings and intellect to complete the picture.