I like suggesting that 'we are slaves to the objects around us,'

Hear, O children of wisdom, the powerful words of Barbara Kruger, an artist whose voice has challenged the world to reflect on the very nature of consumption and materialism. She speaks thus: "I like suggesting that 'we are slaves to the objects around us,' that 'plenty should be enough,' or that the 'buyer should beware,' within the context of conventional selling space." These words, though seemingly simple, carry a profound truth about the hold that material possessions have over our lives, and the societal systems that feed upon our insatiable desires. In these words, Kruger warns us against becoming so entwined in the web of consumerism that we lose sight of what truly matters.

Consider, O wise ones, the concept of being slaves to the objects around us. The world is filled with distractions—things that demand our attention, our money, and our time. From the moment we are born, we are taught to desire, to covet, to acquire. Kruger’s insight calls us to pause and reflect on the nature of this cycle. Are we not often enslaved by the very things we accumulate? Every object we acquire has a price not only in terms of money but in the energy and time we dedicate to obtaining and maintaining them. We become servants to our possessions, constantly managing, worrying, and organizing them, as if our lives are defined by the things we own.

In the ancient world, O children, Greed was one of the seven deadly sins, a force so powerful that it led even the greatest empires to ruin. Think of Rome, that mighty civilization that rose from humble beginnings to become the most powerful empire the world had ever known. Yet, even Rome’s grandeur could not shield it from the consequences of its own insatiable desire for wealth, luxury, and conquest. Emperors, once humble men of vision, fell prey to the lavish lifestyle, and their obsession with material riches led to the downfall of their people. The luxuries they sought were not just objects; they were symbols of power, symbols that had the power to corrupt the soul. Kruger’s words, though spoken in the context of modern society, carry an ancient wisdom: the more we acquire, the more we are bound by the very things that we seek to possess.

Think, too, O wise ones, of the ancient philosophers who sought to understand the true nature of happiness. Socrates, that sage of Athens, lived with bare necessities, rejecting wealth and luxury, for he understood that the pursuit of material possessions would never lead to contentment. True happiness, he said, comes not from what we own, but from the peace of the soul. In the same vein, Kruger’s reminder that "plenty should be enough" challenges us to reconsider our endless quest for more. Is not the pursuit of endless acquisition a form of restlessness, a search for something external to fill the emptiness within? True wealth lies not in what we possess, but in what we can relinquish—our attachment to things, and the freedom that comes from recognizing that enough is, in fact, sufficient.

And yet, O children, Kruger’s words also carry a warning: "The buyer should beware." In every market, in every place where goods are exchanged, there is a hidden trap—a promise of fulfillment, a promise that the next purchase will bring joy, status, or meaning. The modern world, with its advertisements and ever-present marketing, beckons us to believe that fulfillment is just one purchase away. But, O children, the world of commerce is built upon a lie—a lie that suggests that our worth is tied to what we own, to the things that surround us. When we buy, we do not only exchange money for goods; we buy into a system that tells us we are incomplete without the next object, the next acquisition. Kruger’s warning is as much about the dangers of blind consumption as it is about understanding our own desires and needs.

Take, for example, the tale of King Midas, whose greed for gold led him to make a fateful wish: that everything he touched would turn to gold. At first, it seemed like a dream come true—his wealth grew, his power expanded. Yet, in the end, Midas was undone by his own desires. The things he coveted most—food, love, and companionship—were lost to him, turned to gold, and unable to nourish his soul. Midas’ story is a timeless reminder of the danger of being enslaved by material wealth, of placing our value in the things we own rather than the relationships we cultivate or the virtue we strive for.

Thus, O children, let us take Barbara Kruger’s wisdom to heart. Material possessions can be a source of joy and comfort, but they must never define us. We are not our possessions; we are not the things we own. Let us not become slaves to our desires, forever chasing after the next object that promises to complete us. Instead, let us find contentment in the simple joys of life, in the beauty of relationships, in the richness of experience. Let us heed the warning that the buyer should beware, for it is not the things we acquire that bring fulfillment, but the awareness of what truly matters. And in that awareness, may we find true freedom—the freedom to live with purpose, with simplicity, and with a heart not bound by the things we possess but liberated by the peace that comes from within.