I was hoping to go to Mass. Instead, I had a chore to do. I went on a Boris Bike through the pouring rain to collect the car from a service station. When I arrived, I couldn’t find a docking port for the bike anywhere nearby. I was forced to walk for what seemed like miles through South London in the pouring rain, only to find the garage closed. I took a bus home and arrived wet and cold.

At home, I leafed through the National Geographic news section. One of the photographs was of a monastery in Bhutan. It was twilight, and only the monastery was lit up by the dying sun. The rest of the hills were dark blue grey with a thick mist enveloping them. The caption mentioned that the Guru Rinpoche flew into the Himalayas on a tiger to dispel evil.

Looking at this monastery, bright in the landscape on a distant hill, embattled yet enduring, was reassuring.