“The extraordinary story of the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ begins with Nathan Morris, the son of the shoemaker and cantor Kidders Morris, who came over from the Old Country in the eighteen-eighties, and settled in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Nathan Morris was a pitchman. He worked the boardwalk and the five-and-dimes and county fairs up and down the Atlantic coast, selling kitchen gadgets made by Acme Metal, out of Newark. In the early forties, Nathan set up N. K. Morris Manufacturing–turning out the KwiKi-Pi and the Morris Metric Slicer–and perhaps because it was the Depression and job prospects were dim, or perhaps because Nathan Morris made such a compelling case for his new profession, one by one the members of his family followed him into the business. His sons Lester Morris and Arnold (the Knife) Morris became his pitchmen. He set up his brother-in-law Irving Rosenbloom, who was to make a fortune on Long Island in plastic goods, including a hand grater of such excellence that Nathan paid homage to it with his own Dutch Kitchen Shredder Grater. He partnered with his brother Al, whose own sons worked the boardwalk, alongside a gangly Irishman by the name of Ed McMahon. Then, one summer just before the war, Nathan took on as an apprentice his nephew Samuel Jacob Popeil. S.J., as he was known, was so inspired by his uncle Nathan that he went on to found Popeil Brothers, based in Chicago, and brought the world the Dial-O-Matic, the Chop-O-Matic, and the Veg-O-Matic. S. J. Popeil had two sons. The elder was Jerry, who died young. The younger is familiar to anyone who has ever watched an infomercial on late- night television. His name is Ron Popeil.”

-Steve Prefontaine

During our conversation, I realized that I confide in only one of my closest friends and my family. That’s it.

This discovery made me ask: “Why? Why do I confide in so few people?” I thought about this at the time (and sometimes since) and I’ve realized that the people whom I confide in possess two qualities — loyalty and being a good listener.

For me, loyalty is trust. If I tell you something in confidence — almost anything — the expectation is that you’ll keep it to yourself.

When I want someone else’s perspective regarding an issue in my life — personal or professional — I inevitably go to the same people whom I confide in. While loyalty may play an important role here, I also really care about getting useful results. And I think someone who’s able to provide that has to be a good listener.

A good listener doesn’t tell you what to do. A good listener has a natural curiosity in exploring and hopefully discovering the best solution to your issue or problem, with you, not for you. They do this by actively listening to what you’re saying. They do this by asking intelligent questions. They do this by showing you the different paths to different doors, rather than telling you what door to open. They’re able (as much as humanely possible) to separate their own personal biases and opinions regarding your issue, in order to give your issue the individual attention, care, and objectivity that it needs.

In my experiences, loyal people who are also good listeners are rare.

Perhaps that’s why we confide in so few people.

While saying “No” or “Not now” may seem harsh to some people, I think it’s important that you do.

I think much of life is about finding and experiencing great things. And in order to do that, I think you have to focus on what’s most important at any given time. Because what’s most important to you, is what’s most important in your life. And that’s where you should be spending your time.

But in practice, this is hard. It takes a good amount of focus, imagination, vision and clarity to live this kind of life.

Inevitably, you can’t do everything or help everyone (at least not right now). But you can do great things right now if you’re focused.

Throughout the day, weeks, months, and even years, I’m constantly telling myself to “Prioritize, prioritize, prioritize.” And I’m continually asking myself “What’s most important — now, next month, next year, two to five years away.” And I make sure I’m working on those things.

Everything else becomes secondary, for now at least.

I’m also convinced that people are willing to pay for experiences. Not all experiences, but perhaps many.

And I’m convinced that the current distribution model for experiences can be better. That something’s missing. That something’s needed.

I’m not sure how to define “experience” (I’m not sure if you even can, other than to say that it’s closely related to how one processes and feels during an active sensory encounter, which can be different for everyone), but you can read Wikipedia’s entry on it here.

What convinces me of this? Honestly, just my experiences, observations, and intuition.

That may sound unconvincing, but I’m pretty sure it’s correct. I feel strongly about this.

“The 2010 Tour de France cycling race is now over, with Spain’s Alberto Contador claiming his third win in Paris yesterday. Andy Schleck of Luxembourg finished 39 seconds back, and seven-time tour winner Lance Armstrong finished 23rd in his final Tour de France. This 97th running of the iconic race started in Rotterdam with 198 riders in 22 teams of nine, and finished yesterday, 3,642 km (2,263 mi) later in Paris, France on the Champs-Elysees. Collected here are a handful of images from the second half of the race – see part I for earlier photos.”

There are a lot of things in the world that people create — which they love — but others just like. To be loved by another, for a creation of your own, is something that’s incredibly special.

If you get there, cherish it. Experience it. Live it.

Don’t let go. Just love it back.

And getting there should be your goal. Don’t settle on just being liked. Because when you’re loved, you don’t have to be liked.

But with so much choice these days, I think it’s even harder to get there. It may be simple, but it sure isn’t easy.

I think it’s simple in the sense that things people love are pure. Love is such a deep experience. It’s so intimate. But it isn’t easy, because together, those two things are quite rare.

To get there you have to have such a clear understanding of yourself, what it is you’re creating, and whom you’re creating it for.

Yearning for love may seem like you’re climbing a mountain. It’s a mountain in that often times it requires a journey to get to the top. You may not know how high it is, nor be able to see it, but it’s there.

While there may be small bumps along the way, the journey should be wonderful. It should feel great. Make sure you’re climbing the right mountain.

Love is real. Love is a beautiful thing. Don’t settle for less.