I was twenty. A wintry dawn filled the sky above the low buildings of Shino-In, a small Buddhist temple forming part of the main monastery complex of the Shingon sect situated at the top of Mount Koya in Japan. In the silent room of tatami mats, plastered walls and paper windows, beside my futon, my tea, left in a cup from the night before, had frozen solid. I had not slept much; it had been to…