Why pinecones?

First of all, I have always loved them. Pinecones, seashells, wildflowers, and definitely bare branches. There is something breathtakingly beautiful to me in the often overlooked exquisite uniqueness of the natural world. How is it possible that no two flowers, no two pinecones, no two of anything can be exactly the same here? I hope that I never get over this sense of delight and wonder.

So that is where the Story of the Pinecone begins in my journey. I was a casual collector, often sensing that one pinecone or another wished to be popped into my pocket. I would bring it home and place it on my altar with all the other of my curated things. But then I got to live for short while in the Catskills and I was surrounded by pinecones like never before. They filled our backyard and decorated every hiking path. They were everywhere and I wished to round them all up and so also became curious about ways that I might be able to use them as an artistic medium.

I did a little research and made the pivotal discovery that pinecones open and close! I truly had no idea. It turns out they respond to humidity and in this way, open wide to release their seeds in warm conditions and close up tightly for protection when it is damp and cold. This new fact made them even more magical to me! They actually breathe…and I begin to play with the process…forcing it to happen through an incredibly sweet ritual of warming them up in the oven and then giving them a bath.

As I prepared to return to Brooklyn, I gathered up a giant IKEA bag full of spruce cones that had fallen in a huge pile around a nearby tree. These cones are not especially pretty — even to my dreamy eye. They remain closed quite tightly and in this way it can be hard to appreciate the beauty they hold. I lugged them up to my fourth floor one bedroom and left them in big metal bowl near the one working heater before heading out of town again for a few days. As mentioned, they were tightly shut, fitting easily in the bowl and I had no idea what might become of this huge less-than-dazzling collection.

However, when I returned home after traveling, I could immediately sense that something was different in the apartment. The bedroom door was ajar in a way that I hadn’t left it and when I peeked inside, I was overwhelmed with unexpected delight! The heat of the bedroom and the metal bowl created the perfect conditions for the pinecones to come completely alive! No longer able to be contained, they spilled and released seeds all over the bedroom and it felt like they were actually happy to see me…like they were welcoming me home!

This magical experience became a portal of appreciation and the more I learned, the more I loved them. It turns out that pinecones have long been symbols of abundance (understandably!) and also fertility. Additionally, our pineal gland is named after the pinecone because it is shaped similarly and it is this part of our brain that is associated with enlightenment and intuitive perception: our third eye. Spiritual iconography is saturated with pinecone imagery (which you will now also see everywhere…you’re welcome!). The early days of my pinecone romance were woven with my burgeoning Zen Buddhist practice and so it felt especially encouraging and confirming to find myself drawn to a natural element that also held deep spiritual meaning.

I love language and the word ‘pine’ has become inspirational for me. It has been a pleasure to create secret natural altar contributions (like the one pictured above). The abundance of pinecones allows me to play and create without any fear of scarcity or sense of preciousness. They open and close for me and when I attend to their magic, I can also feel my own. In the eloquent final words of the Mary Oliver poem, ‘It Was Early’ she describes what I love and wish to continue to do: ‘Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open’.