"Bill, Bill, just watch God paint a masterpiece," he gently chided, as I squinted through the viewfinder.

Had I known that that sunset would be the last one we would watch together, perhaps I'd have tossed the camera aside and silently watched the Great Artist at work in the sky.

The date was August 1986, about a year before Tony died.
My sister Grace and I were visiting Tony for a weekend at his Sadhana Institute at Lonavla, India. It was a bitter-sweet time for me—sweet because I could spend some quality time with Tony, and bitter because Dad had died and I was tying up his affairs.

The lake is behind the Sadhana Institute, a pleasant half-hour walk through native bushland. The three of us had walked to the lake, happily chatting as siblings do. I had flown in from Australia and, tourist-like, I was toting my high-tech camera. When I saw the sunset was shaping up to be special, I forgot Tony and Grace and knotted myself up with apertures and shutter speeds. It was these frantic movements which amused Tony.

One source of inspiration was God silently at work in nature. The Lonavla lakewalk was Tony's favourite haunt. It was his spring of refreshment, where God led him to "quiet waters by." In his books Tony often speaks of finding God in silence. Tony found Him in the silence here. Tony mentions this particular lakeside haven in his book Awareness.