Stories of Matter

I matter, you matter, we matter. Don't we?

At Growing Home, we listen to our pain, its echoes, the silence of after It happened—whatever It may be.

If you have a Before and an After, an It you are trying to understand—I invite you to take a seat with us.

WELCOME

to a sanctuary for those who suffer

A long time ago (as in a couple months), we talked about words, we talked about learning to listen by listening to one word, and we listened to the word “home.”

Remember that? We’re returning to this work today.

Let’s consider “matter”—a funny word, isn’t it? One we often question. Recently on Being in Motherhood, Emma Del Rey (Welcome to our Growing Home, Emma!) reflected on this core belief about herself: “I do not matter.” In recent weeks, I’ve given too much attention to this belief too. Particularly in the silence following my first “big girl” interview in front of six educators a couple weeks ago.

Sitting at the butt end of that conference table, I felt like such an imposter. Trying to prove how ADULT, how PROFESSIONAL I am. How capable. Feeling everything but. Felt like they could see through my professional clothes & my professional makeup & words & resume & ideas—to my thin skin. The twelve-year-old girl standing on her tip toes at the adult table. (From my journal, afternoon of the interview)

Feel familiar?

Its exhausting, isn’t it, trying to convince the world you matter. Trying to convince yourself.

Professional. Or, trying to convince myself.

Do you matter?
Do I matter?
Does our work in the world matter?
Do we matter?

Like Emma, an answer returns to you and me in the echoes—

My work doesn’t matter.
My life doesn’t matter.
I don’t matter.

But what of this word: matter?

• What does it mean?

• What are we asking when we ask, “Do I matter”?

• What is its weight, its dimensions, its structure?

• Beyond our questions, what are the stories of “matter”?

Has two related definitions, approximately.

The first, concrete: Physical Substance. Weight, in terms of gravity—but also mass.

Weight changes based on the pull of the gravity on you. Mass does not. Matter doesn’t change. The thing is what it is regardless of whether or not it is in the Earth’s atmosphere or on the pitted-marble moon. An astronaut is an astronaut, a person whether stuck in Earth-mud or bouncing off moon-dust.

matter

MATTER

M A T T E R

The second definition is more cloud-like: it is a question of significance.

This is the question we are asking.

We do not wonder so much about our physical substance but our value to others. Even in our work, we are asking a question of relationship, of how we relate to others. Does my work matter to someone else? Will I leave a legacy? Do they think it is (I am) valuable? worth saving? worth passing on?

Do you

matter?

Together, these two definitions present a dynamic truth.

Your mass does not change, no matter where you are or what company surrounds you.

You have a shape. This shape is you. You carry this shape into every moment. You carry this shape into every room. Sometimes, you carry your shape into an empty room. Sometimes, you carry your shape into rooms where others carry their shapes too. These shaped people have a specific gravity which pulls on you. You, with your own specific gravity, pull back on them. Together, you create a microplace, like a little planet between you. When they take leave of this atmosphere, they carry their shapes with them. When you take your leave, you carry your shape with you.

They matter. You do too.

Part of my shape is this smile. I am convinced. I am convincing.

Take care.

CJS

PS—When I have some real news about my interview, I’ll share it. As yet—still silence. In which I’m sitting with the gravity of my own shape.

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Thanks for listening with me.

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