When you have nothing, no matter how proud or stubborn you are, eventually the advice you hear here and there—in the media, on the internet, or in the news—starts to affect you. You’re compelled to pay attention to those theories and beliefs that promise wealth, happiness, or at least a breakthrough.
It’s not something that happens in a day or two. You see your peers, friends, acquaintances, and coworkers improving day by day, while you continue to sink deeper into debt and financial trouble. Or even if you’re not in debt, you’re stuck, seeing no progress in any area of your life—not in your career, not financially, not even in your emotional or family relationships.
Eventually, in private, you swallow your pride and turn to one or two articles, books, or videos that promise that by following their instructions, you can open the gates of happiness and luck. Some even claim that luck doesn’t exist at all and that salvation lies solely in strictly following the rules they’ve laid out.
Some of these theories, despite their popularity and commercial success, are so blatantly ridiculous that their absurdity is apparent from a mile away. Others disguise themselves in the garb of science, psychology, or even physics and chemistry, offering dozens of arguments and success stories—all told by people whose identities can’t be verified as real individuals.
Let me tell you a story that shows how resistant I once was to such claims. My opposition to what I still call the “horn-blaring of spirituality,” especially when it’s for personal gain, cost me dearly. One day, my ex-girlfriend called me and said she had found the true key to solving all of life’s problems and couldn’t wait to share it with me in person. When she excitedly promised over the phone that a certain video would change everything for the better, I could hear the thrill in her voice.
When I arrived at her place, everything in the apartment looked different. The lights were dim, several candles were lit around the room, guiding me to where I was supposed to go. For a moment, all these signs suggested something else entirely to me—something romantic—and I smiled. The atmosphere had softened my mood and I felt good.
In the living room, when she handed me a glass of wine, she toasted to “finding happiness,” and I, expecting a kiss to set the tone for what would follow, was surprised when she immediately inserted the DVD into the player. Back then, streaming wasn’t yet the norm, and DVDs were replacing VHS tapes as the top choice for watching movies.
We sat side by side on the couch, and I stared at the screen, wondering what I was about to see in an atmosphere I had misunderstood. It took less than a minute for my mood to shift dramatically.
I was now completely focused on the film. At first, several people talked about how terrible and complicated their lives had been—how their careers and relationships had been a mess. Then they explained how everything miraculously changed after discovering the secret to success that the film was about to reveal. They insisted that what they were saying was all true, the very stories we were watching and hearing.
Within those first few minutes, I couldn’t control my anger and frustration. I started mocking the people in the film and their statements, which felt utterly fake to me. In my view, they were blatantly lying. Despite my girlfriend’s repeated gentle requests that I be patient and watch the film to the end, my anger kept escalating. It got to the point where we were yelling at each other. The price of seeking the “secret to success” at that moment was our once warm and loving relationship. At that time, I still loved her and envisioned a good future for us. One of the scenes that remains etched in my memory is mocking her while she was crying. I remember lecturing her, insisting that she should choose science and reason over these kinds of lies and superstitions. To my disbelief, she asked me to leave her apartment.
I had assumed that after such a heated argument, more intense than any we’d had before, we would somehow reconcile and end up holding hands in the bedroom. But my mental calculations were far from what was going on in her mind.
Breaking up with her was a heavy blow. It was a crack in my resistance to thoughts and beliefs I had always rejected. That experience, along with what happened later, gradually led me to a turning point where I began telling myself, “I don’t know.” Even in moments when I was sure something didn’t add up, I began to allow for the possibility that I could be wrong—and I’d repeat to myself: “I don’t know.”
In other words, you reach a point where the peak of helplessness and despair forces you into an internal struggle, and you tell yourself: “The sky won’t fall if I just read one of those bestselling books or watch one of those videos.” Even if I had spent my whole life fighting and mocking such trickery, superstitions, and scams.
Of course, getting to that point wasn’t easy. I crafted a thousand different philosophical justifications in my mind. First, I told myself in a pseudo-intellectual tone that reading and analyzing anything—even if it goes against my beliefs—is a sign of having an open mind. And what’s the harm if I occasionally waste some time this way? After all, haven’t I sat through terrible movies and just thought, “What a waste of time”? I categorized these books and videos the same way. On the other hand, I reasoned that spending time and energy on these theories wouldn’t cost me anything other than some time—which, truthfully, I often didn’t know how to spend anyway.
Eventually, to my own surprise, I picked up one of the most frequently recommended books. It had studied the lives of many wealthy and successful people and advised that the only thing I needed to do to reach their level was to see myself in their position. Simply put, I had to imagine myself as already successful and then—boom—I would be there. Think and grow rich. I thought to myself: so far, my way of thinking and living hadn’t gotten me anywhere. What harm could there be in following these instructions? At worst, if all this was nonsense, I’d still be right where I was.
I went ahead and followed the advice in some of those books and videos. I honestly didn’t know which outcome I was hoping for. If nothing happened, part of me would be glad that I had been right—that these were all just con artists trying to exploit people. But if a miracle happened and I became rich, I’d be free from poverty—which was even better. You couldn’t call it a win-win situation. “Lose-lose” felt more fitting.
What actually happened was neither. No miracle occurred, and I didn’t become wealthy. But things did get a little better. I don’t know whether it was due to following that advice, or because of my own efforts, or just luck.
