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The Secret by Rhonda Byrne has been very successful, yet your book highlights its dark side. Tell us more about that.

The Secret’s dark side spans the spectrum from simply wasting time reading it to becoming entrenched in its collection of myths. The most troubling one is:

Anything and everything we want can manifest in 30 days or less as long as we think positively about it. This of course does not factor in:

Since you are highly critical of The Secret, I guess you reject the law of attraction too, right?

I believe that the law of attraction coexists with many other universal laws and that they all work together within a highly complex system. In fact, the bulk of Burying the Secret addresses these intricacies and interrelationships in great detail. My book was primarily influenced by Eastern thought, mysticism, and psychology as it relates to spirituality. Between my research and observations—along with my own experiences—I do not see the law of attraction working well by itself, particularly in the way The Secret promises that it does.

More typically, using the law of attraction for small goals—such as getting great tickets to a popular concert—works most of the time. When we use it for big, life-altering situations, we may attract anything but what we wish for.

Furthermore, when we use the law of attraction alone, we sometimes release pent-up spiritual energy and great things may occur in the short term. However, we run out of steam soon enough and life becomes sluggish or even static. In my case, I persisted with the law of attraction and stood by helplessly as the stagnation morphed into painful reversals.

Would it be fair to say that you see no value in positive thinking?

I believe that maintaining a positive outlook is every bit as viable as not thinking in those terms at all. For example, cynics tell us that by expecting the worst, they are delighted when good things happen and rarely feel disappointed when they don’t. It all boils down to which coping mechanism works best.

I spent the first half of my life as a diehard cynic and the second half as an optimist. I have learned that focused attention is much more wisely spent on bolstering our resiliency and on reducing stress than figuring out ways to be more positive. Our psychological comfort benefits tremendously from bouncing back from adversity and anxiety management. I have yet to see positive thinking yield comparable, substantial rewards. In light of this, I see positive thinking as overrated, yet it still is a worthy attitude as long as we don’t bet the farm on it.

Dr. Jimmie Holland talks about the “positive thinking police” in relationship to chemotherapy patients. Holland has counseled oncology patients for 24 years at the Sloan-Kettering Hospital in Manhattan. In an article called The Tyranny of Positive Thinking, Holland states that lifestyle issues—such as smoking, diet, and exercise—play the biggest role in both attracting and surviving cancer. Holland advises that we should maintain the mindset we had before cancer struck, even a pessimistic one. He also acknowledges the role of stress management in controlling our immune system, but dismisses the positive-thinking bullies as a source of potential distress.

In light of Holland’s theories, I see these albeit well-intentioned “police officers” as messengers of hollow directives at best. They alienate others by forcing them to develop a counterfeit persona, instead of transmitting unconditional concern and a sense of inclusion.

In chapter 4, you talk a lot about “introjects.” I am not familiar with this term. Please tell us about it.

Alice Miller coined this term in The Drama of the Gifted Child. Our parents sometimes inoculate us with introjects as a way to bury unwanted characteristics or behaviors. Introjects are typically transmitted through silent parental directives, so the child does not have the chance to rebut. All the child knows is that conforming to these demands means love and approval and that staying true to herself means parental rejection. So, again we have the counterfeit-persona situation.

For example, a mother may want to impose her strident and outdated values on a progressively minded child. So, the parent is trying to mold the child into a clone of herself. However, if the child gulps down this demand, she forfeits her true nature as she plays out the role her mother has assigned. The entire process of feeding the introject followed by its ingestion occurs entirely within the unconscious realm of both parties.

Introjects produce different degrees of damage. The longstanding, malignant variety works like carbon monoxide, which is also odorless, tasteless, and impossible to detect. Consequently, neither the parent nor the child foresees the existential imprisonment awaiting the child, if submerged introjects carry over into adulthood. Insidious in nature, introjects generate toxins and their tentacles multiply over time.

On the spiritual front, the adult “introjectee” must address several issues. First, forgiveness of our parents (the “introjectors”) becomes a pressing concern. Second, the demand to purge the introjects—so we can live a richer life—emerges again and again, until some kind of action is taken. If we ignore these calls for change and adapt to introjects as adults, our true nature can become as disfigured as Quasimoto’s spine, due to the invisible weight we lug around.

Expanding consciousness appears to be a dominant theme in your book. Can you tell us more about this?

Discussing consciousness is like looking through a kaleidoscope. We can see many tangents at once, so reducing it to a simple discussion is not easy. However, three aspects come to mind.

First, we have our ever-evolving consciousness on Earth. We can see this collectively, but on a personal level, we detect it every time we perceive the results of an epiphany. Sometimes an “ah ha” moment seems to have no value at first. However, some time later, we notice that our reaction to a situation has changed drastically. This would be inferential evidence that the epiphany has sunk into our consciousness.

Another example would entail how we learn life’s lessons as children. A five-year-old might see a woman with a burn-scarred face and loudly ask his father: “What’s the matter with her?” The father might tell his son not to say such things because the woman’s feelings would be hurt. The child does not fully grasp this at first, but when faced with the same situation at 11, the boy will wait until the woman is long gone before saying anything. Then as an adult, this same boy might finally understand consideration and compassion in a way not possible when he was a child. So this example allows us to chart the expansion of a person’s consciousness in one area.

Finally, we have our consciousness on Earth compared to our consciousness in the afterlife. The differences between them are so vast that I am reminded of the differences between pets and humans.

I once knew a bulldog named Hugo, who went to the vet for shots and fainted when he saw the needle. By the time the next shots were due, Hugo had apparently forgotten about the last vet visit, because he sat quietly in the waiting room, minding his own business. Then a door opened and out came a woman in a lab coat. Hugo took one look at her and passed out again.

Let’s imagine what Hugo might have been thinking when he woke up: “Why would my otherwise doting owner put me through such torture?” and “What good could possibly come from a stabbing?”

If Hugo’s owner could hear these questions, she would of course want to tell him about all the benefits of getting annual shots and that a needle jab is such a small price to pay relative to the protection the shots offer.

Of course this exchange could never happen because Hugo’s brain could never comprehend the meaning, even if he understood the words. Therefore, Hugo’s brain is like the 10 percent of our mind that functions fully on Earth. Only when we trigger the other 90 percent do we begin to understand the whys and wherefores of our own adversity as well as the myriad of intricacies about how everything works together.

What motivated you to write Burying the Secret?

I had been badly burned by following the law of attraction in the 1980s. By 1991, my life had completely unraveled, leaving me dirt poor for a good 15 years and certifiably destitute for almost a decade within that period. Also, unanticipated medical conditions put me in a wheelchair by 2002.

I feel certain that obeying the law of attraction did me in. Then in March 2007, I saw an Oprah show featuring The Secret and my stomach turned into knots. At that point it became my mission to write Burying the Secret.

Do you blame the law of attraction for all of your hardships?

No, I blame my own gullibility. I wasn’t a child at the time. I was an adult with years of life experiences under my belt. At any point, I could have abandoned the law of attraction, but I fell prey to my ingrained sense of entitlement and to magical thinking, which I should have outgrown by my 10th birthday. I really had no choice but to take responsibility for my own downfall.

Your question brings up an important point, though. Belief in the law of attraction as an independent force can lead to trouble for certain people. Anyone who believes in quick fixes could take The Secret’s core message too far. The potential damage depends on what a given reader harvests from The Secret.

Some people will simply be reminded that positive thinking can do no harm. Others looking for quick fixes will pollute their minds with The Secret’s trivializations. Worse still, some of these people will replace real-world strategies to solve concrete problems with The Secret’s techniques. I fit into this last category and Burying the Secret discusses the fallout from these extremes in great detail.

How do you account for The Secret’s overwhelming popularity?

I discovered that it goes deeper than a need for quick fixes. I stumbled upon an extraordinary book written by cultural anthropologist/psychiatrist Clotaire Rapaille. In The Culture Code, Rapaille talks about our “reptilian brain,” which often informs buying decisions, particularly the luxury items.

Our reptilian brain is the only one we have until we are about seven years old. During the preschool years, we think we are the center of the universe and magical thinking along with a sense of entitlement are ingrained into our thinking.

Rapaille contends that adults sometimes revert to reptilian thinking, which often causes a split between word and action. For example, a man may be quite vocal about energy conservation, but he still buys a Hummer, the mother or all gas-guzzlers. Also, when the reptilian brain dominates the adult mind, it may be impossible to reason with such a person. In other words, reptilian thinking temporarily supplants our rational mind. Therefore, for some people The Secret has activated their preschool thinking, so it is easy for them to accept The Secret hook, line, and sinker. These people are often intelligent and well informed, yet they prefer to believe in magic above all else.

I noticed that your bibliography is very long, how did you manage to read that much since the spring of 2007, when The Secret first emerged in the media?

I actually began my research in the early 1990s when it became clear that the law of attraction was not working. At first I sought out more law-of-attraction and get-rich-quick books. After I had read 15 or 20 books, I felt completely frustrated and no closer to solving my problems than after I had read the first one. At the time, I had access to one of the best libraries in the country, the Los Angeles County central library in downtown L.A.

Their spiritual section was astonishing. So I moved from the law-of-attraction stacks to rows and rows of the most impressive metaphysical writings I could have ever imagined. At first, I read anything that seemed appealing. However, after a few months a pattern emerged. I was particularly seduced by mysticism, Eastern thought, and psychology as it relates to spirituality. By focusing on these subjects, I used the bibliographies of great books to guide me to others. At the end of 10 years, I had amassed my own bibliography of 300+ titles and a blizzard of notes.

Before I discovered The Secret, I had already written a manuscript, called Confessions of a New Age Junkie. I simply had to compose a new chapter, change the titles for the chapters and the book itself, and make minor revisions throughout.

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