When everything is a commodity, nothing has value.
I don’t think we can ever hit that extreme, nor would we want to, but what if we focused our material possessions on those few things which have totemic value to us?
I love my espresso machine, a Rancilio Sylvia. She became fully mine the day I opened her up and changed her boiler. My blood mixed with her oil and innards. My brother bought me a beautiful tamper several years back. I have the sacred bean, prepared “especial for Monsieur Robert.” And yes, the morning ritual does form and fuel my spirit.