The first part of this musing began in April 2023 when, together with the hounds, I hiked on a local dirt track road that had recently been widened. As a result of the process, many of the Scots pine trees of the surrounding forest had been cut or injured by the machines. There was an overwhelming sense of damage and trauma that the bulldozer and chainsaws had recently wreaked and I found myself sad yet walking in an aromatic zone as the sap was rising and the resin was flowing!
I ended up spending time with the damaged trees, taking photos as well as tasting, observing and smelling the resin in different stages – from the fresh cuts and the rivers of resins to the old, hardened resin blocks that bore witness to previous injuries. The latter can be hard to spot as they finally become merged and one with the tree.
What I observed was there were 3 main stages of resin formation.
The first stage is the initial wounding and the resin ‘tear’ response where it flows down the tree in continuous rivulets of clear fluid resin, just like tears. The taste is quite bitter, turpentine-like and light in aroma and taste.
The second stage is where the resin has finally stopped flowing and is starting to solidify. Here the resin becomes opaque or cream coloured. If you touch it, you find there is a very thin crust of harder resin but underneath, it is still liquid, clear and ready to flow again. This state is extremely fragile and not yet mature. It is more aromatic than the initial stage resin flow but remains light and terpenic.
The third stage is when the resin is completely mature and solid – no longer fluid but instead, a hard, crystalline, dark coloured mass. Its aroma is heart-warmingly balsamic and soft and it reminds me of a semi-precious garnet gemstone, with light reflecting off its different facets. I harvested some of this mature resin and burned it as incense when I got home. Heavenly.
So why am I sharing about this today?
Well, this experience reminded me of the emotional and soul wounds that we all gather as we move through Life. Wounding is an inevitable part of our earthly experience but how the wound heals is often more important than the wound itself.
When a wound is fresh, emotions flow, cascading downward and it often feels like the pain might never end.
And then, gradually, over time the wound begins to heal. In this process, it remains vulnerable for an extended period of time. At this stage, we still don’t see clearly or understand what the wound might teach us – the message is opaque. This second stage of healing needs time and space and self-acceptance in order to finally mature.
If we keep scratching the wound, removing the scab, removing its healing crust, the wound will never heal as it was intended. If we keep returning the wound to its fresh state and keep reliving the acute trauma of it, it will never reach its mature, stunning form that eventually becomes an integral part of our identity.
What’s more, continually returning the wound to its original state is deeply exhausting over the long term and leads to a weakened state where the ability to fully recover is diminished. This is evidenced in studies of non-timber forest products such as resins, whereby overharvesting of these precious plant exudates such as oleoresins and oleo-gum resins in response to public demand leads to a decline in populations and weakening of trees.
Revisiting old wounds, painful as they may be, often provides a degree of comfort as they hold us in a familiar space of lived experience. On the other hand, doing so leaves us increasingly vulnerable to risk and the constant picking at scabs keeps our wounds from healing completely and holds us back from discovering our own resilience and transformation.
I recently returned from a remarkable aromatherapy seminar in Prague where there was an overwhelming sense of healing, acceptance and aromatic strength. On the last day of the event, I was gifted something precious – spruce resin infused in Almond oil – a healing balm for nurturing and protection with a balsamic softness that touched me deeply and led me to write this post.
So, in May 2025, with the hounds in tow, and with my own wounds to reflect on, I returned to this same dirt road to witness its 2-year transformation. What I found was that in the place of the trauma and injury – greenness, beauty, vitality, diversity and vibrancy abound. Nature had gently reclaimed what, 2-years ago had looked and felt like a wasteland that could never possibly recover. The injured trees now have a hard crystalline and shining resin where tears had previously flowed and the resin has darkened, solidified, healed and merged into the trees’ identity.
So the message to me in all this is to acknowledge and bless each stage of my healing from life’s wounds and traumas. To not to keep revisiting and picking the scabs – and not to deny their presence either – just to give them acknowledgment, gratitude, blessing and space to heal as Nature intended. Easier said than done of course! But the end result is without doubt beautiful, deep and precious life lessons that bear a discreet witness to your marvellous life.
