The Raconteur

The Raconteur

The Buddhist in Me

I hear the ancient Bristlecone Pines whisper: “All Things Must Pass”

Craig K. Collins's avatar
Craig K. Collins
Mar 17, 2025
∙ Paid

The Sentinels in the Schulman Grove atop the White Mountains of California spindle skyward, appearing to intertwine with the Milky Way. These bristlecone pines were saplings together some 3,500 years ago. The tree on the right died about 500 years ago; the one on the left is still living. (Photo: ©Craig K. Collins)

I am alone at 10,000 feet in the White Mountains of California, sitting on a flat rock, eyes closed, meditating, and trying — so far unsuccessfully — to empty my mind of all thought, internal chatter and worry.

The setting sun, warm upon my face, is casting an amber glow on the weathered, honeyed trunks of a pair of ancient bristlecone pines known as the…

Keep reading with a 7-day free trial

Subscribe to The Raconteur to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.

Already a paid subscriber? Sign in
© 2025 Craig K. Collins
Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start your SubstackGet the app
Substack is the home for great culture