The Whiteheadian Flea Market

Where Possibility Meets Pre-Loved Actuality

​A marketplace of memory, creativity, and becoming—where every object is either on its way to becoming something new or quietly continuing its story.

​
Satisfied Customers and Sellers
​

​"I love shopping at the Whiteheadian Flea Market—where every item is a concrescence of charm, history, and the impulse to buy sustainably. Some things whisper of past lives, others shimmer with untapped potential, and at least one reusable tote bag feels like God’s lure toward responsible consumption. It’s where memory meets possibility—and nothing (including me) is thrown away."

- Jennifer, adjunct philosophy teacher at a community college
​
“Every time I come to the Whiteheadian Flea Market, I leave with more than I came for—a sweater, a story, and at least one item that feels like it prehended me first. I plan to recycle it someday, of course—I’m just part of its journey. After all, I don’t want to be selfish with beauty that wants to keep becoming.”

— Tessa, ceramicist and amateur process theologian

“I shop at the Whiteheadian Flea Market because, to be honest, I don’t have much. But here, I find what I need—warm clothes, a decent mug, sometimes even a book that makes me think. I’m grateful for the folks who share what they no longer need—it reminds me we’re all part of the same becoming.”

— Jim, retired mechanic and faithful flea market regular

“I realize it’s high-status to get the latest and the new, but I’m not interested in status—I’m interested in reverence and respect. I’m a Christian. I want to be with others, not above them. That’s why I shop at flea markets: to honor what’s been lived, to participate in a quieter kind of beauty, and to remember that worth isn’t measured by shine or price tag.”

— Eli, community organizer and flea market devotee
​
“I sell at the Whiteheadian Flea Market because it’s more than a place to make a little cash—it’s a place where stories continue. Every item I put on the table once meant something to someone, and here, it gets the chance to mean something again. In a world obsessed with the new, I love being part of a market that honors the already-been-loved.”

— Rita, retired teacher and part-time storyteller

​

​Offerings

​Primordial and Consequent
​

🌀 Primordial Offerings

Where Possibility Lingers and Nothing Is Yet Fixed

Step into the realm of potential. The Primordial Offerings invite you to wander through a curated collection of objects that haven't fully become—but are ready to. This is not just a display of things, but a celebration of the unfinished, the suggestive, the waiting-to-be.

What You'll Find:
​

• Blank journals with hand-stitched bindings, each one quietly asking for a story
• Unpainted figurines, modeling clay, and raw canvas—art that longs for your hand
• Old keys with no known lock
• Stacks of sheet music without melody
• Vintage fabrics folded into the shape of dreams
• Seeds in glass jars, labeled not with names but with open questions (“What might this become?”)
• Ink bottles, empty vases, incomplete chess sets
• Word fragments and poetry scraps, to be assembled by intuition or whim

​Every item here lures the imagination, whispering, “Make me new. Fill me. Choose what I might become.”

This is Whitehead’s primordial vision made tangible—an aesthetic space of pure potentialities, not yet enfolded into actuality. .

​🌒 Consequent Offerings

Where Every Object Has Been Felt, and Nothing Is Lost


Step into the gentle embrace of memory made visible. The Consequent Offerings honor the beauty of what has already happened—items steeped in history, marked by use, and still alive with meaning. Each one carries a story, a presence, a residue of touch.

What You'll Find:

• Faded Polaroids from nameless road trips — ghosts of summer sun and long-lost laughter
• Well-worn jackets with stitched repairs, each patch a silent act of tenderness
• Handwritten letters, creased and reread, never meant for the trash
• Books with margin notes, still in dialogue with their readers
• Cracked mugs that still hold warmth, chipped but faithful
• Framed cross-stitchings, old awards, and forgotten diplomas — tokens of pride, long ago but not gone
• Vinyl records with scuffed covers, liner notes inscribed with hearts and initials
• Religious medals, childhood toys, and pressed flowers — relics of memory, still felt by God
• Cast iron skillets, perfectly seasoned with history
• Well-worn boots, soles with stories of sidewalks and soil
• Vintage alarm clocks, ticking with stubborn resilience
• Old toolboxes, with dents that speak of work done in love
• Ceramic mixing bowls, smooth and steady, ready for new recipes
• Lamps with mismatched shades, still able to bring light
• Sewing kits with half-used spools, ready for repair and reinvention

These are not just secondhand objects—they are pre-loved, prehended, and cherished in their imperfection. In process terms, they are gathered by the consequent nature of reality—a divine receptivity that remembers everything, not as frozen relics, but as felt experiences.
​
Each item here waits not to be erased, but to be received again.

​Tips for Shopping

How to Navigate a World in Process (With a Tote Bag)

1. Shop with Feeling, Not Just Function
   Let your intuition guide you. That cracked teacup might be exactly what your soul needed.
2. ​Hold Objects Gently
3. Everything here has a story—or is waiting for one. Treat each item as a moment of becoming.
4. Ask: “What Is This Luring Me Toward?”
   If something stirs your curiosity or emotion, pause. In process theology, that might be God speaking.
5. Pair Possibility with Memory
   Grab a blank journal and a used photo album. Become the bridge between what was and what could be.
6. Barter with Beauty
   Some vendors accept trades, poems, or promises. Not all value is monetary.
7. Listen to the Booths
   They’re more like ecosystems than displays. Let them speak to you.
8. Leave Something Behind
   Whether it’s a note, a ribbon, or a blessing—add to the consequent memory of this day.
9. Don’t Rush the Concrescence
   A good find takes time. So does a good life.
10. Respect the Weird
    Some things may not make sense. That’s okay. Novelty often begins in confusion.
11. Carry Everything Lightly
    Even what you buy is only temporarily yours. You’re a moment in its journey.