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The Secret--Recycled Wisdom for Second Hand Shopping

Yeah--I watched the video version of The Secret and kinda totally loved it. What of it?
And yeah--I know it was a kind of pop-psych pap-so?
But you know, when you start really buying it--when you start thinking "Yes! The Universe will align itself with my desires if I can just put out enough positive vibrations!!" Well, it can open up all sorts of cans of worms. Such as: why hasn't a dear friend's nasty, abusive ex husband had the decency to crash through a bridge guardrail while he was sending her nasty text messages while driving drunk when so many of us have believed it was inevitable? (And if he did, would the universe contact the police or the insurance company?) Or: where is my: Range Rover, criminally expensive string of horses, French chateau, face/boob lift, book contract??? Because, if you've watched the film, if the expression of the omnipotent power is to open up a more convenient parking spot for my shitbox Toyota Highlander, then to hell with it. I can walk if it means there's a Range Rover with a bumper pull Sundowner full of German warmbloods later in the month. You can't be just doing card tricks with omnipotent power and then expect it to get serious with lottery numbers.
Or maybe I'm just not doing it right.
Of course it's no real secret. No one's been hiding it, or suppressing it or conspiring in funky round rooms full of smoke and money and creepy symbols. It's just a rehash of the whole Power of Positive Thinking thing--you know--reap what you sow: you be nice and people are usually nice back. (Unless they're just having a bad day. Or they're assholes. Either way: don't let it ruin your day; don't be an asshole.) Getting what you want is as important as wanting what you get (I don't hate my Toyota Highlander, btw). Keep your eyes open to beauty and good stuff and possibility and you'll usually find it.
I'm okay with retro-inspired, rehashed wisdom. We all need reminders.
What gets in the way sometimes is keeping your eyes clear so you can see the beauty and good stuff. Because when my eyes are all gimlet-ty with bitterness or envy or coveting, I can't see shit.
It's impossible to remember that eventually all those things will hit the secondary market. Like that DVD of The Secret that I found in the pile an evicted neighbor left out on the curb.
The stuff sold at Nordstrom today will be stuff at the Goodwill and Craigslist tomorrow. Or maybe next January. This is Naples, though, so the cycle may be accelerated. Death, Divorce, Debt and Drugs--the Four Pale Riders of the Secondary Market--may actually be the horsepower driving the entire local economy.
I'll admit to doing a little Secret Voodoo while scanning the second hand racks for the elusive Thakoon gloves or an Alexander McQueen coat. But the Universe has its own timeline.
So when I see that genetic lottery winner with the Vassar degree in Advantageous Marriages and Family Connections with the impeccably tousled bed head, tossing a perfectly-shaped butt-load of Sephora and Saks bags and Tory Burch boot boxes into the backseat of her Mercedes G Class, I don't wish her ill (no driving off bridges sweetheart!! Don't text and drive!!) In fact, I'm anxious to see where that perfectly clean four-wheel-drive vehicle will take her. She might lose both legs on her ski trip in Aspen and not have any use for those boots. She may be the object of a snippy New York socialite comment about how Sephora is terribly outre (and she'll have the satisfaction of knowing that the socialite's pronunciation is shite). She may get divorced and move to some sustainable real estate development in Costa Rica and her ex's spiteful new size 0 wife will chuck all those tent-size 8's.
So many, many things can happen.
The universe doesn't give a shit about the fleeting caprices of fashion and frankly, neither do I. I can wait.
I need to get a closer look to see what size she is, though. If only that parking space next to hers would open up...

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