We have a saying. It is, “Something is the Matter “. It is a good saying, an apt saying– more so than one would think. Unfortunately, we have assigned (to my observation) only negative designations upon it. However, upon a closer look, the definition of “matter” deals with substance to include level of density. Is a rock wrong for being more atomically dense than say, air? Of course not. Yet we automatically expect bad things, why? My heart goes out to all the things that fall under the word ‘matter”. Oh. That would be – everything that takes up space and possesses mass.

We also say, “the matter at hand”, with totally different connotations. Fascinating. What do we really mean? Is it that there is an increased density in my energetic field? To refer to that as “a matter” then it must possess mass. Well then, just how “real” is this thing? Could it be, “an unrecognizable substance has come into my personal space”? Wow that’s kinda scary.

Matter also involves theme. What if what we are sensing is a change of topic as the universe discusses us? Is it not amazing this sensing? The question that begs is why is it not all of these things and more?

You see, change has approached me and I can feel it. It has mass. It is tall, broad and deep. Oh yes. it definitely takes up space. I can hear remnants of the conversation of the universe with itself, saying, “Go now. Step close”. I sense the ripples in the air like heat from the road in august.

Or - perhaps it’s me. Reflection says, I matter. Indeed, I do take up space and have deemed to stretch myself. I am the topic on the table and I will consider it. I call it good. I call it worthy and conduct myself accordingly. Perhaps it is the stars of my own internal universe choosing to shine in sync. Ah! How glorious. Yes something – is the matter with me and I am delighted.



The sun light was soft, crisp, complimenting the light breeze in the dance that dappled the shades of green from the leaves. It was the first really warm day of spring and all of the people were out, even those who were clearly unfamiliar with being in the park.  It was easy to spot those.  They were loud; boisterous to a fault.  I had never seen, or as the case may be, heard, so many people in the park as this day.  It was glorious, festive with the anticipation of like days to follow and you could see it the sparkle in everyone’s eyes.

I chose a side trail and marveled at what I perceived as the incapacity to respect nature. Even the sky was noisy, with jets flying continually overhead. How can you hear the breeze, see the sifting shades, smell the warmth, if all you put forth is your own sound?  It made me sad until I caught myself having given no room to appreciate my own surroundings.  I was as guilty of missing the moment as I had judged others to be,  it’s just that the noise was in my head.

So I shifted my perspective to include the merriment of others and took in the beauty of the day.

In this park there are lakes, inlets, and runoffs that create very shallow swampy areas after a good rain.  The path I was following bordered just such a spot and there at the water’s edge was a very large, and very asleep Great Blue Heron, balanced on one leg.  I am named after these beautiful birds so I have taken the time to be at least a little familiar with their ways.  They don’t like noise.  They most certainly do not like company.  Yet here was this bird in the midst of radios, Frisbees, dogs, jets, cell phones, jogging, laughing, yelling – sound asleep. Now here was something to truly marvel!

I stopped cold and watched.  And watched.  And watched, waiting for a least a feather to ruffle.  I got nothing for my efforts.  In fact, I am convinced I saw this bird at one point, nod.  I must have I stood there for a least 20 minutes with noisy revelry all around waiting for that familiar squawk of disdain that comes before the flurry of those great wings upon  intrusion into its near-space.  It never came.

As it happened, this trail circled around the diminutive wet area that was apparently Blue Heron’s bedroom this day.  I came to the back side of it to see if I could get closer.  I could.  I did.  But only a little.  Then, and only then, was there any indication of movement as a slight rustle of plumage said, “Ah, I know you’re there”.   I didn’t have the heart to break such a dedicated rest and stilled myself. This bird was serious.  I waited to see if there was anything else that might arise that I could glean from.  I waited until I could no longer justify my purpose for having come out to take a walk in the first place and returned to the task at hand.  But oh how I pondered!

There was only one way that I knew of to get the answer I was seeking.  I said, “Okay Creator, I know that you are speaking to me in this, but what is it that you are saying?”  The answer on this wonderful gift of a spring day was immediate and clear.  Creator replied, “Oh, I just wanted you to see what peace looks like”.


It is amazing the many different ways that Creator can and does talk to us.

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