A Coffee with Joe Vitale

A coffee with ... Joe Vitale
Wimberley author who appeared in 'The Secret' discusses the phenomenon

By Jenny Miller
SPECIAL TO THE AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Thursday, May 24, 2007

It's 10:45 a.m. and Joe Vitale has already harnessed the powers of the universe several times.
On the drive from his Wimberley home to the Barnes & Noble at the Arboretum, the doctor of metaphysics, marketing guru and author of "way too many books to mention" used a tool called the law of attraction to ask for the following: a safe trip with no traffic (which he gets); that he be early for the coffee interview (which he is); and that we easily find each other in the bookstore's cafe (which we do).

The law of attraction — the theory that we "attract" into our lives whatever it is our minds are focused on — is the central message of the best-selling self-help book and film "The Secret," in which Vitale appears. If you haven't gotten in on "The Secret" yet, you've probably at least heard of it. The DVD, released in March 2006, has already sold more than 1.5 million copies. The corresponding book has 3.75 million copies in print, and both have topped the charts at Amazon.com.

Those who have seen the film will remember Vitale as the dimpled, middle-aged man in a black T-shirt and brown prayer beads who uttered some of the most memorable lines. "You are the Michelangelo of your own life. The David that you are sculpting is you," is one. Another: "The universe likes speed," meaning that to reach our goals we should take action in the very moment we feel inspired.

The speed line is so frequently referenced that Vitale declares it will be carved on his tombstone, though the 53-year-old adds that he has plenty of time before then.

The movie's message is somewhat radical, and, as much as the English-speaking public seems to be gobbling it up, there's been criticism, too. One major complaint (the thesis of a recent Newsweek story) is the focus on attracting money and material goods over more altruistic goals. (And indeed, sports cars and luxurious houses play as big a role in "The Secret" as any of the people quoted.)

Vitale himself is a sports car aficionado. He owns a limited edition Panoz, which he "attracted" last year on a day when he drove to San Antonio merely wanting to lay eyes on one of the rare automobiles. As it turned out, the car had been a prize in a charity raffle, and the winner was thrilled until he got his tax bill. Vitale ended up driving away with the car that day having paid less than half of the usual $150,000 sticker price, he says.

To Vitale, his Panoz and two BMWs are "proof that the law of attraction works." When asked whether that's a rather materialistic outlook, he seems prepared for the question. "People have a belief that the material is not spiritual," he says. "It's our cultural programming."

What Vitale and the other "teachers" in the film want us to learn is that the material, according to metaphysical thought, is a direct manifestation of the spiritual. As he puts it, "Your thoughts and feelings are creating the outer reality."

Though Vitale lives what he describes as a "life of luxury," that wasn't always the case. More than 30 years ago, before he discovered metaphysics (or writing, or marketing), the Ohio native lost his savings to a fraudulent company that promised work overseas, he says. He then spent six months homeless in Dallas, sleeping in doorways and churches. A relative eventually helped him get work in Houston, and he spent years in that city in "virtual poverty" going from one low-paying job to another.

"It felt like there was no way out, and then I started learning about the law of attraction," Vitale says. A few years later he published his first book, "Zen and the Art of Writing." He learned marketing while publicizing that book, and things took off from there.

"The life I have right now compared to the life I had 30 years ago is so dramatically different that it feels like a past life," Vitale says. "I want people to realize that if you keep being positive, you keep moving forward, you can get to a place that's so different from where you are now it will blow your mind."

That seems like an inspiring note to end on, and as we toss our drink cups in the trash I'm relieved that the self-described bookaholic plans to browse the store's titles before he leaves. If we walked out to the parking lot together, he might see my dusty 8-year-old Honda Civic, which I would have washed if I'd known it was a direct manifestation of my inner reality. Maybe I should spend the drive home attracting some spiffier wheels.

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