I wanted to see if applying the rules of The Secret to my life would bring me the perfect happiness that it promises. For the Human Guinea Pig column, I usually do things that readers are too embarrassed or too intelligent to do themselves-like entering a beauty pageant or entertaining at a kid’s birthday party. The last time I was this embarrassed at a bookstore was when I bought The G Spot, another best-seller that provided instructions for achieving bliss. When I bought it, I quickly stuffed it into a plastic bag, glancing around Barnes & Noble to make sure I saw no one I knew. So, I will acknowledge that I came to The Secret with a negative attitude. He died with nothing, living under an assumed name. I loved listening to him spin his theories about how things really worked-until either I got too old to believe him anymore, or his spinning took him further and further away from reality. He bought the books of his time that promised, like The Secret, to unlock these mysteries. He was aware there were people with esoteric knowledge who controlled all the wealth, had all the power, and were specifically excluding him from getting any. Decades before the best-seller was published, my father knew the secret of The Secret.
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