Is it a secret if everyone is talking about it? Wherever I go, people are enthused about the best-selling book.
     "Should I buy The Secret?" my sister asked. She was on her way to the bookstore to stock up on reading material for an upcoming trip. Since she's not a big fan of Oprah's show, where I first learned about the phenomenon, I told her she may not like it.
     Had I read it? she wanted to know. I admitted to reading the book, watching the DVD and purchasing the audio version for my car.
     That I caught the television show at all was a fluke. I'd lost track of time and tuned in late. The energy of the guests, The Secret teachers and the book's author, magnetized me. I bought a copy, ready to have The Law of Attraction revealed to me.
     A week later, two of the teachers returned to Oprah for a follow-up show. Audience members disclosed how their lives had changed since they began practicing The Secret. I purchased a copy of the DVD.
     Motivational speakers and booksellers have been around for a long time. I was 12-years-old when my father graduated from law school. A friend gave him a commencement gift, Napoleon Hill's book, Think and Grow Rich. Included was a leather bookmark with a mink tail at its end. Visions of wealth danced in my head.
     In the 1970s, when I was a rookie car salesperson, my dealership signed up the sales crew for an all-day motivational seminar at a large sports facility. The place was jam-packed with men (and a few women) wearing power suits and looks of anticipation. Zig Ziglar, Paul Harvey and W. Clement Stone, among others, told us over and over again that the sky is the limit. The only thing holding us back is our own short-sightedness.
     One of the men I worked with at the time (In fact, we shared an office.) had an entire library of motivational books that carried the same message. Ray was always reading one of them, telling me I should, too. He put a chart on our office wall. Every month he set a new sales goal for the two of us. His gusto was contagious. When Joe Girard, listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the world's greatest salesman, came to town, Ray was so pumped up he easily talked me into attending the appearance with him. He insisted we arrive early to secure good seats.
     I'm a back of the auditorium type person, but Ray wanted to be front row center to hear every word. Indeed, Mr. Girard was one heck of a speaker—so full of enthusiasm that with every skyward punch of his arm, the lectern moved a bit closer to the edge of the stage. "If he and the podium fall into my lap, I'm holding you responsible," I whispered to Ray. It never happened, but as the talk progressed, Joe Girard's intensity heightened. His voice got louder and louder, and he spoke faster and faster. He began to spit. Just a little, but enough to have me tugging at Ray's sleeve with another warning.
     I wonder if Ray has heard about The Secret. He still sells cars—lots of them. Does he attribute his success to the books he pored over back in the old days? Or has he delved into a new generation's inspiration? I wonder what he would think of The Secret's premise: Ask for it. Believe it. Receive it.
     Knowing Ray, he'd say it's missing something: Nose to the grindstone.