Mass communication created a brief window when humanity could share the same songs, films, and icons.

Infinite digital choice has fragmented us into isolated bubbles without common culture.

Because the old unity was accidental, rebuilding connection now requires that we choose it deliberately.

I was watching a YouTube video the other night, Drumeo's "The Genius of Rush's Tom Sawyer." The host, Brandon Toews, clearly poured himself into it. He, along with a handful of fellow drummers and musicians, took turns reverently breaking down what Neil Peart, Rush's incomparable drummer, did on that track. The way the song breathes and then detonates. It is a defiant, transcendent anthem of individuality. Watching it, I felt that thing Rush fans know. There's a reason we recognize each other.

We're a particular kind of nerd, if that's even the right word. We appreciate the complexity, the virtuosity, and the crafted brilliance of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart. Every fan knows the cerebral spirituality of Neil's lyrics. He didn't write fluffy love songs. He wrote about consciousness, time, and free will. He sought deep truths and shared them in mystic rhythms.

Neil was an atheist. He was also one of my greatest spiritual teachers. Rush fans reading this know exactly what I mean.

I have tickets to see Rush in Fort Worth on June 26th with my best buddies. So, fair warning: This isn't neutral. The love of Rush, for me, is closer to the heart.

But sitting there watching that Drumeo video, something hit me that goes way past Rush. Brandon was gushing about what a classic "Tom Sawyer" is, and it triggered a thought that landed with a force of clarity. We will never have another song like this. We will never have another band like this. And it isn't because the talent is gone. It's because the conditions are gone. The window has closed.

The Shared........

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