Photography as a Cure for Materialism?

As we pare down our possessions through circumstance or by conscious decision I have, ironically,  begun an inspired collection of 'treasures' that have already piled quite high: a teetering tower of finds that need no storage, no dusting or mending. They take up not one shred of additional planetary resources (are in fact likely to have you caring far more for this earth), cause no pollution, nor even use freely gotten energy.
They are photographs. And many of them will likely go no further than the Cloud on which they are stored. Some do end up on Facebook or on a Blog (hello!) or sent to a friend or family member, but the vast majority are simply a collection of love.
My photographs are of nature and the lens of my camera has been the medium through which we have communed. I use a phone camera most times. Simple, immediate gratification; a gift of technology.
 My walks, camera in hand have become a meditation for me when alone, a treasure hunt with family, a giddy shared pleasure with other enthusiasts. And lately it has occurred to me that photography has helped cure me of some of my desire to gather, collect and own, all without overflowing my life, my home, my wardrobe or conversely, without dipping into my wallet.
I would not say I am obsessed with the need to photograph everything. I can take a walk without a camera (just an initial tug of pain and then I am fine;), but I can no longer turn off the photographers 'eye', the constant rainbow tinted lens through which you notice everything and anything of beauty, of wonder or even of perfect symmetry of simplicity. When you start down this path, you need only open your eyes to see a universe of wonder to be admired, the moment begging to be captured.
Of course I was always a little this way as many are. I have always taken some photos, have always practised art, have always written, so those things I see are sometimes transferred to a canvas or a notebook and I suppose in some ways it is like speaking a couple of languages. You experience something by your senses and you choose a language through which you feel best lets you fully experience that moment.
Photography has it's limits. It does not properly relate the buttery sweet smell of wattle, it cannot describe the bitter smell of burnt toast or the sound of a waterfall, nor the feel of moss on sandstone, but it can I think describe other vital and wonderful things: your love of that moment or of the object, your connection to it, your sense of wonder or incredulity, your appreciation of it's perfection.
The nicest thing for me in photography is to feel any of the above, take a photograph, share it on social media and have a person react just as I did, though the person was never there. Shazzam!
I suppose it is a bit like taking a kings treasure on tour. You present the object to other people and you share the awe of it together. Wanting simply to own the treasure would blacken the moment for either party. Why would you want to own what everyone could enjoy?
It's a poor analogy. Of course the king owns the treasure but I hope I was still able to illustrate how I feel when I photograph something. No need to own an object, just a desire to bear witness.
And so without realising how it happened at first, my desire for 'things' has been even further dampened. I feel very content with my current possessions (I'm not saying I don't like rearranging them on a whim:), I feel a deeper appreciation of the place I live (I lived here for 10 years previously and never quite managed the connection I feel now) and yet I could move on. I feel like I am treading lightly in this place and pleased to know it while I am here.  I can take my wonder with me anywhere. It is the lightest of luggage.
There is a down-side. Wonder is addictive. Pangs of connection to earth is a heart-drug you will want to pursue. And like me, you will glance back every now and then at the shiny lights and faux scents and tinny jingles in the distance and wonder what all that was ever about.