You’re watching something—a great movie, a profound documentary, a news report about a genocide in Africa—you feel something . . . you’re seeing your self, your culture, your values with fresh eyes . . . you’re going to live your life differently because of this thing you see . . . maybe you mumble the beginnings of an inner vow to yourself . . . tears are welling up in your eyes . . . and then BANG! . . . an ad snaps the spell.
This is one of those mind-fucking psychic-rupture moments where the neuropathways in your brain get torn up like overpasses in an earthquake.
And then it happens again . . . and again . . . and again, day after day, aftershock after aftershock.
Don’t kid yourself, each time it happens your emotional capacity is incrementally blunted. Your ability to feel humbled is diminished. You grow a tad colder, you get a bit more closed-minded, a little more cynical, a little more soul shocked and spiritually vacant . . . until one day, half way through your life, you gaze out into the world and can’t feel much of anything anymore.