I am always struck by how often advertisements use wonderful, qualiadelic ideas to sell their products. One commercial that readily comes to mind is probably called “pay it forward.” Basically, one person helps another, then that person helps another, and so on throughout the morning. It is just a series of people feeling good about being nice. To share is to be qualiadelic; qualia brings matter together so it can endure.

But we live in a material world. The commercial is selling a soft drink – it is pushing a Big Dopamine reward for doing a good thing. Sharing is a Little Dopamine phenomenon, but it is relatively unappreciated when compared to the Big Dopamine rush of a Coke. We are programmed to expect Big Dopamine rewards – so we think, maybe if I share my stuff I will get a date, or go to Heaven.

Another commercial begins with a furry, odd and unfamiliar-looking, infant creature, crying in its crib. “Ideas are scary,” the voice-over reads. “They come into this world ugly and messy. Ideas are frightening because they threaten what is known. They are the natural-born enemy of the way things are.” Extremely true, and extremely qualiadelic. Quite pleasing to anyone who has ever had an original idea and tried to share it with someone else. Of course, this commercial advertises a company which turns ideas into products which make the world a better place (i.e., filled with material conveniences).

We live in a material world. Commercials show us ideas, but they send us off after material things. They stroke the Little Dopamine ideals that we have, but then they pull the bait and switch and hook us by our Big Dopamine addictions. Nature pulls the same shenanigans. The landscape has its own qualiadelic advertisements – colors, smells, sounds, textures, and tastes – which send our animal cousins chasing after food, sex, shelter, or whatever they need to survive. This is why we are so susceptible to Big Dopamine commercialism, because we are wired by nature to notice qualia, but to chase matter. The culture of consumerism just exploits our natural tendencies — and Little Dopamine no longer satisfies.

Before our ancestors ever got the matter they needed, they had to notice the qualia. Before they ever got the Big Dopamine squirt, they must have had the Little Dopamine squirt. This is the conundrum: can we retrain ourselves to appreciate Little Dopamine again. Little Dopamine – our ruby slippers!