The scary thing about what I call the "Awe Deficit Disorder" is that it's self-reinforcing. If you're not struck by existence, you don't seek out experiences that might strike you. You don't prioritize awe-inducing activities. You don't structure your life around preserving your capacity for wonder. You optimize for comfort and efficiency and entertainment, which are fine things, but which tend to decrease rather than increase your sensitivity to the strange miracle of being. And then one day you're old, and you realize you were alive for seventy or eighty years, and you never really noticed.
