The Goldfish

I have been thinking about the goldfish.  The kind of goldfish who swims up to me every now and then, could be anywere on the website, and says you know Rosie I try to read everything  you write. No I didn't know. That kind of goldfish  And then they swim away. 

But they are not anonymous.

Or the kind of goldfish who'd post links on threads that clarified everything I was struggling to say in words, a link to the perfect song, the perfect video about attrocity. That kind of goldfish. Or the kind of goldfish who'd debate me for days. Before they swam away.

They are not anonymous.

And especially I've been thinking about the goldfish who these past days have swum up to me and said Rosie I know you enough to know that if you say pain it must mean suffering, because otherwise you would never use that word or even think of going away. Because I know you well enough to know that you always try to tell the truth, your truth. Some of them must be the same goldfish I just mentioned above, otherwise how could they understand me? 

And so as I 've thought about these goldfish lately I remembered Sojourner Truth.  The escaped slave and writer and nurse and fighter for freedom, and why she chose her name.  Because a sojourn is much more than just a journey. Like the journey she first undertook on the Underground Railroad as an escaping slave, a sojourn is a quest. And a sojourner is much more than just a traveller. And how  truth, her truth, was the purpose of her quest.

And how here right here, I've kept struggling to say, in so many different words and ways, here could be the place of that quest. I never said I know the truth. I only said I know the quest. And as I've  thought of these goldfish these past days  I've thought how they are not anonymous. For me they have a name.

Their name is Sojourner Truth.

I believe God is an ocean of love and we swim in his bosom like the fishes.

                                                  Sojourner Truth

Robin