There’s a lesson in watching a heron. It stands still, poised with an almost otherworldly focus, waiting for the right moment to act. It doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t rush. It simply observes, aware of its surroundings, until the time comes to strike with precision.
I’ve written about the heron I encountered in Warner anglers preserve. I felt a strange connection to that bird. I don’t know why. Perhaps, it was the fact that it’s the closest I’ve ever been to one. As a bit of a naturalist, my heart skipped a beat when it took flight from the river and flew just above my head, as I stood in the Mill River in my waterproof boots. As a tall human being, maybe I just appreciate tall birds a bit more than the average person.
In a world that glorifies speed and instant gratification, the heron’s approach is almost radical. It’s a reminder that patience and careful observation are strengths, not weaknesses. This is a lesson we need now more than ever, especially as we navigate the noisy, algorithm-driven digital spaces that dominate our lives.
The reason I love Easton so much, is the slower pace of things compared to the rest of the neighboring towns. The Mill River, though it can flow rapidly, is a great place to go to slow down. That was the purpose of my trip to the river that day. To slow down.
Sometimes when things around us are changing faster than ever, the most important thing we can do is to be like the heron. Going fast to break through things might be a great motto for an innovative tech company, but if you go too fast, you can lose sight of what’s actually important.
Take Facebook, for example. It’s the hare in Aesop’s fable, sprinting ahead in the race, leveraging its massive user base to grow quickly and profitably. But like the hare, it often loses sight of the bigger picture. In its rush to connect the world, it sacrifices privacy, manipulates attention, allows the rapid spread of disinformation, and creates spaces that feel more like echo chambers than communities. Most importantly, as a user of Facebook, you’re not really a user at all. You’re the product.
The lesser-known social media platform, Matrix.org, on the other hand, is the tortoise, and the heron. It moves deliberately, prioritizing resilience and long-term trust over rapid expansion. It observes the needs of its users, offering an open-source, decentralized platform where privacy isn’t an afterthought, but a core value.
Like the tortoise, it focuses on steady, intentional progress, creating a space for real connection and collaboration without the noise of ads or engagement driven algorithms.
As artificial intelligence becomes more sophisticated and advanced, the heron would tell us it’s time to escape the algorithms that drive the hare and underestimate the value of your own digital profile at your own peril.
This tortoise-like patience doesn’t just result in a better platform; it builds a better relationship between technology and its users. It asks us to consider what kind of digital space we want to inhabit. One where speed, scale, and an unceasing and exploitative profit motive dominate, or one where privacy, trust, and community thrive?
I don’t know about you, neighbor, but I don’t need to be sold something every time I want to see what’s going on in my community. Nor do I want my attention to be up for grabs as a product. As you scroll through Facebook, be sure not to let the platform use you. Remember, behind every reel that you see, there’s a bidding process taking place using your information profile to manipulate what you see next to the highest bidder.
The heron reminds us of what it takes to move through life with purpose. It knows when to wait, when to move, and when to act with vigor. The tortoise shows us that slow and steady doesn’t just win the race, it redefines it. Together, they remind us that the choices we make in how we connect, online and off, define the world we build for ourselves and those who come after us.
Matrix embodies this spirit of deliberate action. It invites us to slow down, to reconnect with what truly matters, and to take back control of our digital lives. It’s a heron’s perspective in a hare’s world, a chance to pause, observe, and choose a path that prioritizes the long game.
The Cultural Easton 