Looking Out My Back Door

"The Secret"

You know, I've been hearing all the hoopla about Oprah's newest literary love, and I have to laugh. Several years ago -- like, about 1985 or 86 -- my mother forced me to go to a seminar called "Creative Visualization," along with her friend, Ann. The five-hour long seminar had a lunch break, and my mother and her friend Marion arranged to meet me and Ann for lunch at that time. Their reason? They knew that if they didn't, we would sneak out and never return to the seminar. They were right. We had to listen to this guy pontificate about how if you visualize what you want (obsessively, in my book), it will be yours. That was how he got his Porsche, for heaven's sake! I remember Ann and I turning to each other frequently, snarling and glancing at our watches. We were the only two in the group who flat-out refused to participate, as far as sharing our desires with the group. Afterwards, we met Marion and my mom at a bar. We got there early and started drinking, snarling between sips/gulps. When the evil seminar forces showed up, we snarled at them. Why they made us go to this absurd waste of time was beyond us, and we made them suffer.

So, all the hype about "The Secret" has brought back a memory of something I probably tried to suppress all these years. What a bunch of hooey -- then and now.

posted by Hopster @ 10:07 AM