An Authentic Life 1.1 for pdf - Universalist Radha-Krishnaism

lack-sand beach. I climbed down the steep trail,
picking papayas and other fruit along the way.
The hunters had a hut on the bank of the river
at the base of the cliff. I forded the river and got
knocked over by an ocean wave. There were boulders
on the riverbed. I slipped and got a little dunking. I
clambered ashore, went inland a little, and picked a
campsite. My watch stopped working.
After I set up camp, the locals invited me to
visit. I easily crossed the river in my swim trunks minus
the pack. We shared some herb and talked. They
were putting strips of boar meat on hooks to hang in
the smoker.
I said, “I’d be glad to help.”
They said, “You’re the first white guy who ever
offered to help. Usually, they just want to take.”
I said, “I appreciate your hospitality and am
happy to help out.”
They asked, “What food did you bring?”
I said, “Chia seeds, wheat berries, cayenne, and
fishing gear.”
They said, “Take some smoked boar. You’ll
need it.” I gratefully accepted it and went back across
the river.
The next day, as I explored the valley, I met a
white guy living at the other end of the beach. He
lived there for months growing sacrament. The previous
week, a helicopter airlifted him out due to the
worst storms in fifty years. High surf, wind, and rain
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