Hiking With The Buddha (1918)
From: Gypsy Jack’s Camping Journal
I first met the Buddha on a lonesome trail north of Taos. He smelled of wood smoke and jasmine. His pack overflowed with fresh fruit, deer antlers, Indian silks, and a bundle of twisted sticks. He wore a Chinese hat, no shirt, khaki pants and the bare remnants of what were once Mexican sandals.
He looked me square in the eye, winked and walked away. Where he had stood there remained an old silver dollar and a folded note. It read:
“Life ain’t no picnic…
it’s a camping trip”
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