Oprah is Magic
As I head toward thirty I realize that astrology isn’t cutting it anymore. I need a new spiritual path. My best friend Anna has suggested Oprah Winfrey—or simply Oprah as she's known by her legions of followers. Anna tells me Oprah has this thing called “The Secret.” Basically, all a person has to do is think positive thoughts and visualize themselves getting what he or she wants and then they will get what they want. This intrigued me. Oprah is offering more than Jesus, Shiva or astrologer Holiday Mathis ever have. Anna swears it works. “Rachael, this ‘Secret' thing works.’”
“Anna, why is it called ‘The Secret?’ She broadcasts throughout the 50 States, Canada, and probably most of Europe.”
“I think it’s named after the deodorant, not the definition of the word. You know like women practice this philosophy or whatever, their future will smell sweet and not like armpit oder.”
“So it’s like cross marketing?”
“Rachael, who cares? The shit works, dude. Let me tell you I was feeling all down and out. My heart hurt. I was watching Oprah and eating my vegetable scramble. Her show was all about 'The Secret.' Somehow, I knew she was preaching the truth. I decided to think positive thoughts. I shut out all negative thoughts. I didn’t listen to doubts. I decided that the truth is I’m going to marry Ben.”
“BEN?! Anna, You can’t still be on that. You guys broke up forever ago.”
“It doesn’t matter. Every day for a week I visualized us getting back together, with no drama. I usually daydream lots of drama. You know, like, I get thrown in front of a subway train and wind up in the hospital. A mutual friend convinces him to visit me in the hospital. He doesn’t want to go because he fears I’m going to hate him. Our mutual friend tells him he’s being ridiculous. But when he gets to the hospital I do hate him. And we have a big fight. After the smoke clears we re-unite. Oprah made me realize that is the wrong kind of visualizing because I don’t want to actually end up in the hospital. If I’m not willing to get hit by a subway train I’m never going to get the boy back because that’s the scenario I have put out into the universe. So, I stopped thinking all that high drama crap. I thought of very simple non-dramatic scenarios. All of them were pleasant and cloyingly lovey dovey. I did that for a week. Next thing you know I get a text message from him asking me to see the band Verdi and the Cruisers--they're like an Opera rock and roll cover band-- at the Museum of Natural History. It was like magic. I didn't have to do anything. I just thought my thoughts. I sent no messages. I made no phone calls.”
"Don't you have a membership to the Museum of Natural History?"
"Yeah."
"So you and a guest get in for free."
"Sure."
"Hmm."
"What?"
“Nothing. I just don't know that he was looking for marriage...Wait. Didn’t Cara just inform you that he sexually harassed her four months ago at some Rounder Records shin dig?”
“Yeah. That’s why I told him I couldn’t go to the museum.”
“Well, then you didn’t get shit.”
“No, I did get it. It worked. It’s just that at the time I conjured up the positive thoughts I didn’t know he had done that douche bag thing. Otherwise, we’d be engaged right now. Oprah isn’t Superman she can’t spin the Earth backwards and change the past. She can only help you win the future.”
She had point. I guess I’m going with "The Secret."
“Anna, why is it called ‘The Secret?’ She broadcasts throughout the 50 States, Canada, and probably most of Europe.”
“I think it’s named after the deodorant, not the definition of the word. You know like women practice this philosophy or whatever, their future will smell sweet and not like armpit oder.”
“So it’s like cross marketing?”
“Rachael, who cares? The shit works, dude. Let me tell you I was feeling all down and out. My heart hurt. I was watching Oprah and eating my vegetable scramble. Her show was all about 'The Secret.' Somehow, I knew she was preaching the truth. I decided to think positive thoughts. I shut out all negative thoughts. I didn’t listen to doubts. I decided that the truth is I’m going to marry Ben.”
“BEN?! Anna, You can’t still be on that. You guys broke up forever ago.”
“It doesn’t matter. Every day for a week I visualized us getting back together, with no drama. I usually daydream lots of drama. You know, like, I get thrown in front of a subway train and wind up in the hospital. A mutual friend convinces him to visit me in the hospital. He doesn’t want to go because he fears I’m going to hate him. Our mutual friend tells him he’s being ridiculous. But when he gets to the hospital I do hate him. And we have a big fight. After the smoke clears we re-unite. Oprah made me realize that is the wrong kind of visualizing because I don’t want to actually end up in the hospital. If I’m not willing to get hit by a subway train I’m never going to get the boy back because that’s the scenario I have put out into the universe. So, I stopped thinking all that high drama crap. I thought of very simple non-dramatic scenarios. All of them were pleasant and cloyingly lovey dovey. I did that for a week. Next thing you know I get a text message from him asking me to see the band Verdi and the Cruisers--they're like an Opera rock and roll cover band-- at the Museum of Natural History. It was like magic. I didn't have to do anything. I just thought my thoughts. I sent no messages. I made no phone calls.”
"Don't you have a membership to the Museum of Natural History?"
"Yeah."
"So you and a guest get in for free."
"Sure."
"Hmm."
"What?"
“Nothing. I just don't know that he was looking for marriage...Wait. Didn’t Cara just inform you that he sexually harassed her four months ago at some Rounder Records shin dig?”
“Yeah. That’s why I told him I couldn’t go to the museum.”
“Well, then you didn’t get shit.”
“No, I did get it. It worked. It’s just that at the time I conjured up the positive thoughts I didn’t know he had done that douche bag thing. Otherwise, we’d be engaged right now. Oprah isn’t Superman she can’t spin the Earth backwards and change the past. She can only help you win the future.”
She had point. I guess I’m going with "The Secret."
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