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"Sounds of Penukonda: Hums, and chants and bells; singing in the night, music from the hall, like angels harmonizing; a film score from the Indian cinema, a loudspeaker with chants and puja howls; the murmur of workers and guards around their fire; crickets, monkeys and birds, the call of guinea fowl gone to roost in the trees; from a distance, another loudspeaker singing Muslim calls to prayer."
"From the first morning of my stay until the last, when finally my paints were stolen from the window ledge of the temple (during Swami's birthday celebration), I painted the ashram and its surroundings, the summer palace, the glowing fort, the garden, the fire pit, and over and over, the rock mountain. And in black and white I drew the devotees, resting, studying, eating and cleaning. I drew the Indian workers mixing cement and carrying bricks. I drew Swami too, as he taught the yantras. I drew him as he drew sacred geometry. On Swami's birthday, in a burst of curative and creative intensity, I drew portraits for the Indian guests. They waited patiently for their turn, and murmured their appreciation for the gifts."
"This constant outpouring of creative energy was continuous and unstoppable. I could not help myself. I came to see this work as a gift from Penukonda, the energy of that special place expressing itself through me. To feel this Divine energy, to know oneself to be an instrument of it, is a powerful and humbling experience. I am, and will always be, profoundly grateful for the time spent there."
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