Maybe it's the grey, sagging, block-dotted, uncomfortable couch that's burned in my memory. It was awful. Going to friends' homes was an exercise in curbing jealousy and humility. Observing their thoughtfully coordinated furniture, area rugs, and paintings. Throw pillows 'n shit. I just wanted nice things.
Maybe he's right. Maybe I am materialistic. Is there anything so wrong with that, though? Isn't there something to be said for taste and for the accumulation of niceties?
The key, it seems, is being able to let go of even the nicest of things when we no longer need them. When we have evolved past them. When our palate no longer tastes appreciation for them. That's true of people, and homes and jobs, too. The proper and improper nouns of our lives.
Buddhism teaches us that detachment from things--people, material items, and especially emotions--released us from worldly burdens.
Maybe some of us need to accumulate to realize we need to let go.