Pining
Collective grieving rituals, pine trees, roses, scratches, late-stage capitalism, backpack evangelism, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and sacrifice.
I’m at a workshop in a meadow under a wolf pine.1 The topic is “Grieving with Pine.” An hour or so in, after greeting the pines, and learning about their medicine, lore, and specifications, we are invited to try “pining.”2 Everyone stands up one by one and shares something of their current experience with grief. They hold a pine bough above their heads, swishing it back and forth. The sound is hypnotic. The form is sacred. Dust, pollen, and bits of pine rain down, caught for a moment in the horizontal light of the afternoon sun.
