You know, I lose patience really easily; I'd rather shop in the

Hear now the words of Gail Simmons, a voice both witty and wise, who confessed with candor and simplicity: “You know, I lose patience really easily; I'd rather shop in the grocery store than in the department store. I can pick an apple like nobody's business.” Though spoken with lightness, these words conceal a deeper truth about the nature of choice, of patience, and of simplicity in life. For often, the most profound wisdom comes clothed in ordinary garments, and the act of choosing an apple may contain more insight than the grandest sermon.

What does she reveal here? That in a world of endless abundance and distraction, she finds herself restless amid the sprawling aisles of department stores, where vanity and excess tempt the spirit. But in the grocery store, with its humble offerings of fruits and grains, there lies clarity. There is no labyrinth of confusion, but only the straightforward act of nourishment. To pick an apple is to make a choice grounded in necessity and rooted in nature, a choice that sustains rather than overwhelms. Thus her impatience is not weakness, but a yearning for simplicity, for directness, for the honest things of life.

Consider, O listener, the example of Diogenes the Cynic, who cast aside the wealth and trappings of Athens to live in a barrel. When Alexander the Great offered him anything he desired, Diogenes replied only, “Stand out of my sunlight.” He rejected the clutter of empire for the clarity of the sun, just as Simmons rejects the endless choices of department stores for the clear, nourishing truth of an apple. For sometimes it is not abundance but reduction that frees the soul.

Her words remind us, too, of the importance of patience. She confesses she loses it easily, and yet in that confession lies a lesson for all: patience is not always found in resisting small frustrations, but in directing our lives toward the paths that suit our souls. She does not force herself to linger where she grows restless; instead, she seeks the simpler path where her spirit is at peace. This is wisdom: not to endure what drains us needlessly, but to know where our energy is best spent.

And what is more timeless than the choosing of an apple? Since the dawn of stories, the apple has stood as a symbol of desire, of knowledge, of life itself. From the fruit of Eden to the golden apple of discord in Troy, from Newton’s falling apple to the orchards of every village, this humble fruit carries weight far beyond its flesh. To say “I can pick an apple like nobody’s business” is to claim mastery not just over food, but over clarity—the ability to discern the ripe from the rotten, the worthy from the wasteful.

What lesson, then, can we take? That in our daily lives, simplicity is strength. Seek not always the vast array of choices that promise fulfillment but deliver fatigue. Instead, choose the clear, the essential, the nourishing. Know your nature: if your patience wears thin amid the noise, then walk toward the quiet paths. If you are overwhelmed by excess, return to the basics that sustain. To choose well in the small things is to live well in the great.

Therefore, O seeker, take this wisdom into your days: value the grocery store over the department store, not in literal walls, but in the spirit of your choices. Seek what feeds, not what clutters. Learn the art of picking your “apples”—the opportunities, the relationships, the labors—that bring true sustenance. For the world will always offer endless aisles of distraction, but the wise know to walk straight to the fruit that gives life. And in that simple act, there lies a form of greatness.