We are taught the dire ramifications of materialism; the spiritual emptiness of consumerism; the evils of appetite. But seen differently, seen from the opposite direction—from the absence of a will to exist—an attachment to the things of this world—especially if good taste and intelligence are at play—is a happy symptom of one's desire for, or even love of, this life.
At his death, Roger Ebert is being celebrated more for his gracious fortitude and joi de vivre than for his work as a film critic. In one essay in evidence of this side of him, "Books Do Furnish a Life," he examines his passionate attachment to his things, in particular his books:
Of course I cannot do without a single one of these possessions, including more or else every book I have owned since I was seven, starting with Huckleberry Finn. I still have all the Penrod books, and every time I look at them, I'm reminded of Tarkington's inventory of the contents of Penrod's pants pockets. After reading it a third time, I jammed my pockets with a pocket knife, a Yo-Yo, marbles, a compass, a stapler, an oddly-shaped rock, a hardball, a ball of rubber bands and three jawbreakers. These, in an ostensible search for a nickel, I emptied out on the counter of Harry Rusk's grocery, so that Harry Rusk could see that I was a Real Boy.
This imaginative connection to the world, a philia of philia, let's say, reminds me of George Costanza's ultimate wish for himself, at once a despicable lussuria and an idiosyncratic expression of beauty:
There is an art to life, if not an artistry, and what I like about Kenneth Burke and those other amateur belletrists—back when one could be a person of letters and it meant something—was how pragmatically they viewed the connection between literature and the way we lived
Kenneth Burke, from "Literature as Equipment for Living":
A sociological criticism would consider works of art, I think, as strategies for selecting enemies and allies, for socializing losses, for warding off evil eye, for purification, propitiation, desanctification, consolation and vengeance, admonition and exhortation, implicit commands or instructions of one sort or another. Art forms like "tragedy" or "comedy" or "satire" would be treated as equipment for living, that size up situations in various attitudes. The typical ingredient of such forms would be sought. Their relation to typical situations would be stressed. Their comparative values would be considered, with the intention of formulating a "strategy of strategies," the "overall" strategy obtained by inspection of the lot.
What is lost in a move away from imaginative literature in schools and our common lives, away from reading as a widespread form of leisure, is the loss of these souls who know how to live and, most importantly, are equipped with what’s necessary to keep on living.