On spinning seeds

As a child, I was captivated by the spinning descent of maple ‘helicopters’. I can still remember lying on my back in my grandad’s garden, watching clouds drift overhead as winged seeds twirled gracefully to the ground. What felt like hours of wonder probably lasted only minutes, but the memory has stayed with me—a small, perfect moment of curiosity and awe.

Years later, in biology class, I learned just how clever their design is: each seed (or samara) is created to travel far, ensuring that new maples don’t crowd beneath their parent but instead take root in fresh soil. Having ended up thousands of miles from my own childhood home, I still feel a certain kinship with these seeds.

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The story of the samara is biodiversity in action: a system where difference is not just present but essential. In nature, diversity means strength—forests with many species are better able to withstand storms, disease, and change. When a single species dominates, the ecosystem becomes fragile, vulnerable to disruption.

The maple’s helicopters are a living metaphor for how spreading out, mixing, and embracing variety leads to healthier, more adaptable communities. Just as a forest flourishes when it is home to many kinds of trees, so too do our societies and organizations when they welcome a range of perspectives and experiences.

Like seeds, people from different backgrounds bring new ideas and perspectives. Yet, just as some resist change in the natural world, DEI has faced backlash.

All spring, I’ve found myself writing and rewriting sustainability report sections on DEI as the acronym has become toxic. The language around diversity and equity is shifting—now replaced with talk of impact, belonging, and culture. In many cases, companies haven’t changed what they’re doing; they’re simply changing how they talk about it. The work continues, even if the words evolve.

Yesterday, on a walk, I paused beneath a maple tree heavy with samaras, each one poised to take flight. In that quiet moment, I was reminded how often nature offers us a blueprint for the way forward. The tree doesn’t cling to its seeds or demand they stay rooted beneath its branches. Instead, it trusts the wind, releasing each samara to find its own patch of earth—where it might grow into something strong, different, yet deeply connected to the whole.

Watching those seeds ready to ride the wind, I was reminded that embracing difference means creating the conditions for all of us to thrive.

As we navigate change—whether in our work, our communities, or our own lives—perhaps we can take a cue from the maple: let go a little, trust the process, and make space for new growth, wherever the wind may carry us.