Matter (n.) is cognate with "meter": it names not nature's reality but nature as measured.
Matter (n.) is, if it exists at all, a sleeping partner in the firm of Nature.
Matter (n.) never entered Buddhist thought as solid stuff shaped by mind, so the riddle of how mind moves matter never arose; where we say matter, Buddhists say form.
Matter (n.) turns into pattern under enough magnification: a solid piece of steel becomes a system of electrical impulses whirling through relatively vast spaces.
Matter (n.) has never been found without form, nor form without matter; the world is no more made of matter than trees are made of wood.
Matter (n.) shares its root with "meter": the material world means only the world as measured, by nets, inches, seconds and grams.
Matter (n.) is a word, a noise, for the forms a process takes — a process we cannot define because it is not a "what."
Matter (n.) imagined as formless stuff that forms are made from is a bad analogy from manufacture — as if stars were made the way a carpenter makes tables out of wood.