Contemplating the Flybridge from the Poop Deck

Riva 33 at Stuart Boat Show. Attracting trouble. For a view of some of Riva's more spectacular offerings, click here.

Regular visitors will know that I am not a big fan of the law of attraction. (For a couple of different takes on it, click here...or here.) I am so not a fan in fact that, while I am persuaded that it might be correct to capitalize 'law of attraction' here, I refuse to look it up to make sure. Even if it is correct usage, I don't think the law deserves that much respect. It's not a proper law, after all. It's just some crap somebody made up to legitimize wishful thinking. Having said that however, I have to confess that occasionally I try to attract stuff that I want—you know, just in case. Even an agnostic has to cover the bases a little, although most are probably reluctant to admit it.

I bring this up today because I spent a lot of time last night and early this morning, when I could have been sleeping, trying to attract a Mediterranean style waterfront villa and a ginormous yacht. I was seduced into this behavior by a couple of things that happened yesterday.

First, there was an article in Parade, the magazine supplement that comes with our Sunday paper, about a woman named Cynthia Stafford who visualized herself winning $112 million in the lottery, and then proceeded to do just that. Her visualization was pretty specific. Not only did she get the amount that she won correct, she also knew what she was going to be wearing when she found out she had won. I'd say this is pretty good visualization, and, even if she had not succeeded at winning the money, she would get an A for technique from the law of attraction gurus and touts.

I can predict with near certainty that my good friend, Dr. Joe Vitale, is going to be e-mailing me about Cynthia just as soon as he gets his copy written. He will promise me that I can get results similar to hers once I use his fool-proof secrets for ridding my mind of its pesky blocks to accumulating more wealth and happiness than I ever dreamed possible. Since I am still unemployed, I will first have to attract the amount of money Dr. Joe is going to charge me for giving up these secrets. One step at a time. (I can also predict with certainty that when Google's context sensitive Adsense works its magic, an ad for Dr. Joe's nonsense will show up at the bottom of this post. What a fine irony that every time I poke fun at the bastard I end up creating ad space for him on my blog. Dr. Joe would probably claim that this is proof positive that the law of attraction works. Oh, well.)

The second thing that happened yesterday is that I went to the annual Stuart in-water boat show, and came away, as I often do, in a covetous frame of mind. I don't know what it is about boats, especially big ones, that excites my acquisitive nature. I don't particularly like boating. It tends to be rigorous and elemental and uncomfortable. Even a big boat is cramped and confining, which is why the people who can afford them hire crews to sail the boats to exotic locations while they themselves fly there to meet them. Even so, I still want to own one. I want to fly around the world and meet my boat in exotic tropical locales. I want to be that ridiculous. I do.

I know, deep in my heart, that the key to being happy is not getting everything I want, but rather appreciating everything I have so well that I don't want any more. I get there occasionally, but then occasionally I go the boat shows and my philosophical minimalism is undone by the lapping of waves and the gleam of mahogany. It's a burden. I am so smitten by boats that for the next few weeks I will be pulling the covers over my head each night and selling myself out wholesale to the foolishness that is the law of attraction. Hope to see you on the other side. Hope to be hailing you from the flybridge.