Ask me what I think about self-help, and I’ll probably say, “It’s fine.” Suggest I read a self-help book, and I’ll most likely say, “That’s ridiculous. How can you be helping yourself if you’re reading a book written by someone else?”
It’s not that I don’t believe self-help can help people. It’s more that I’ve always wanted to be the one to help myself. So I’ve looked past the stacks of popular books claiming to help you get rich, find love, or discover your dream career. Any success I had in life was going to be my own; I didn’t want to owe anyone anything, least of all the author of some book.
But then someone told me about a movie based on a self-help concept, and, being cooped up in my apartment working from home for the third day straight, I watched it. And it was interesting.
That should be no surprise. Smart people talking about things I don’t already know about have the tendency to be interesting. What was remarkable was that I thought some of it made sense. Some of it could even possibly be incorporated into my own life. I know. I was shocked, too.
I’m not saying I’m suddenly going to become an advocate of self-help (well, aside from Mr. Paul Maul, that is). But I’m also not going to be so quick to tell you how much of an oxymoron the concept is. You can make up your own mind.