It’s Saturday afternoon.  We're off to stimulate Ohio’s economy, darting through the red hot fluorescence of Target.  We hear one lady grazer say to another, ‘oh, this is that inner peace stuff.’  Not one to gawk at those in the throws of self-actualization, I’m left to imagine the peace inducements crowding the big box shelves - candles, perhaps, patchouli oil, incense wands and a yoga primer.

But our feet stop not until we zero in on what we came for:  angel cake cutter, PJ pants, fitted sheets, dark chocolate and a toaster oven - heaven to hell, honey, with sweet dreams inbetween.

At the toaster oven display, we encounter a philosopher couple, pondering the wares.  They want to find a small oven for baking two potatoes at a time.  The male fancies baked potatoes with crispy skins.  'We don't really need triple trays and room for a twelve inch pizza,' confides his partner with a calm Dutch accent. As we discuss the pros and cons of all the shiny multi-featured models made in China, which is all the models, it feels oddly sublime to machinate potato bakery with a pair of shoppers in the kitchen isle.

It’s Sunday morning now.  I've heard an interview by Bill Moyers that sheds light on yesterday's excursion.

'When you had dialogues with Socrates, you came thinking that you knew what you were talking about. Half an hour later, with Socrates, you realized you didn't know anything at all. And at that moment, says Socrates, your quest can begin. You can become a philosopher, a lover of wisdom because you know you don't have wisdom. You love it. You seek it... you had to go into a dialogue prepared to change.'
Karen Armstrong, Bill Moyers Journal

I’m thinking of the white haired gent and kind eyed lady who after all decided to experiment with crispy skins at home, sans Black & Decker.  And those damsels in the candle isle, and the whole sorry materialistic blunders of our time.  I'm looking for the wisdom of it all.  And here's what I can muster...

There’s a lot of talk lately about profligate Americans hanging our grandkids out to dry by consumeristic clothespins.  But I think our communal story is bigger than that because, at heart, we the people have capacity.

Capacity to marvel.  Capacity to seek.  Capacity to wonder and communicate, investigate and chew the cud.  Capacity to choose and change and, yes, abstain.  Give us a palette of cheap goods, we’ll work with that.  Spin the world a few more times and change what we have to paint with, it’s OK.  The people are artists.  The people have capacity.

And isn’t this the stuff of inner peace?

Graphic Susan Weber, José Aparicio public domain painting, Socrate insegna a un giovane