Drifter's Tales: The Maple Nuts Will Always Be Mine

May 10, 2009 in Drifter\'s Tales, Editorial by drifter0658

Never too far away

Never too far away

Yesterday’s robust wind scattered thousands of maple nuts across our yard, pool, roof, porches, and sidewalk. We don’t have fruit bearing maple tree, but our neighbors do, so these little “helicopters” make their journeys’ end at our place on a regular basis.

I can’t tall you how many hours of my childhood were spent playing with these nature’s toys. Throwing them up into the air and watching them rotate as they attempted to resist gravity. And then the modifications. How much and where could I tear away to be able to throw them higher so that their fall back to earth would be greater? At what point is the alteration of the seed so much that drag reduction overcomes the pleasure of watching them float back to earth?

How many of these “helicopters” never amounted to anything more than a child’s passing fancy?

I can’t tell you the exact number of Squidoo lenses I have started, put time into, had fun researching, looked at, and mulled over, only to delete. But I can tell you that it’s a lot.
The same holds true for modules. Add them, set them up and place them so the vision is correct, just to say,”No, I don’t like it.”

Generally, the validation I give myself for the deletion is that I have played the idea out, and it has moved beyond the reach that is me. The idea can no longer belong to me. It is not my vision anymore. So, I can justify erasing it without feeling guilty. But, I always feel a twinge of guilt just before I click delete. I will always feel like whatever I have written, no matter how far astray the words veer, is part of me.

Those lenses are never truly deleted. I think about some of them often. I remember the fun I had toying with those ideas. The inspiration the visions came from. Sometimes I can even feel the spark. In fact, I have even restarted a few of those lenses and published them. No matter how far away the words, ideas, or visions seem to move away from me, they will always be mine. I may not always recreate them in the form of a lens, but they’ll show back up somewhere.

I wonder how many “helicopters” ended their last flight in the bed of fertile soil, only to grow into a mighty tree outside my window.

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