Recently while bottling moon blessed water and contemplating the uses of Borage in response to a comment by a reader, I found myself sidetracked yet again by musing about exactly what truth is. I suppose the issue got kicked off by thinking about Borage and its uses as a courage herb, which then turned into contemplations about what sort of courage Borage brings, which makes it different from, for example, Yarrow, which is also a courage herb. This is where the ponderings about truth start to creep in, because what is true for me is not necessarily going to be true for someone else. Truth has many shadings – it is silvery grey, not black or white, never penned in by rigid lines, and impossible to define with words or the pen. It was never meant to be the sort of thing you thunder at your children ‘Tell the TRUTH!’, because, after all, what exactly is the truth? Everyone has their own version of events, each of which may be completely true to them, and yet we still have the odd idea that the world is a set, rigid, finite thing, and that ‘truth’, like ‘justice’, are forced, carefully defined entities within the world. Nothing could be further from this peculiar thing we call truth than that! Truth is fluid. It moves and flows with the telling, with the teller, with the listener. It changes colours depending on perspective. It paints a thousand pictures. For me, I suppose, truth and beauty tend to be closely linked, siblings even. I don’t think truth is something that can be used to describe a past action – it is a fluid, ‘doing’ sort of word.