I’ve been listening to a series of interviews with James Ray, who participated in the movie The Secret. As always, he uses many analogies, and I love analogies because they give me clear visuals: I can immediately picture how something works and remember the metaphor behind it.
In The Secret, there’s an analogy about how you need to “work” with the law of attraction. To illustrate this, they compare it to traveling from one city to another. James used a similar analogy in his interview: when you drive from one city to another, you don’t constantly crane your neck trying to see the destination 300 kilometers away; instead, you calmly focus on the road ahead to avoid crashing into a tree. You trust the road will lead you to the right city, but you can easily get lost if you don’t follow the right route.
This made me think about weight loss, and really any goal we want to achieve. It’s both impossible and unnecessary to stare too hard at the results and try to see them sooner. The key is to simply follow the path that will eventually get us there. Imagine this: you’re driving from city A to city B. You’ve been driving for a while — not just half an hour, but longer. You don’t know exactly how long the trip will take, but you do know there’s a road that leads straight to city B.
Here’s the catch: you don’t like the car you’re driving. Instead of a sparkling convertible, you’re stuck in a somewhat functional, but uncomfortable and ugly old car. Yet, in city B, that shiny convertible is waiting for you. All you need to do is endure a little longer, wait patiently, and keep driving the uncomfortable car until you get there, where you can trade it in completely free for the one you’ve dreamed about.
We’re all driving cars of different conditions. Some don’t have bumpers, some have lost their paint, rust covers parts of the body, some backfire or hurt your back while driving. But here’s what’s interesting: the further you drive, the easier it becomes to endure the discomfort, and the more you want that shiny new convertible. The “rally” conditions even start to improve unexpectedly. Maybe during one overnight stop, someone swaps your clunker for a slightly better one.
Suddenly the bumper is back, though still without paint. The rust fades away. The hard wooden seat is replaced with soft foam. Driving becomes a little more comfortable. As you keep going, you start feeling happier. After some time, someone installs air conditioning and a stereo in your shabby car. With every overnight stop, the car transforms more: it gets painted, and even the shape starts to change.
Then one day, you realize you’re entering city B. It’s beautiful here. People smile at you, men look at you with respect, women fix their hair as you pass by. You look around in amazement. Somehow, it’s not you anymore—it’s like a Hollywood star is driving this car next to you. You adjust the radio to see what music is playing. Then you spot a big button near the stereo: “open/close roof.” You press it, and the roof opens and slides back into the trunk on its own. You catch your reflection in a big shop window—and suddenly you realize: you’re driving that shiny convertible. Somehow, on the way to your dream, it happened naturally.
You simply never got off track.
