Part 1: Introduction
Have you ever asked yourself: Am I becoming the person capable of creating a fulfilling life of meaningful impact? Not just making a difference, but doing it in a way that allows you to thrive—giving more to the world than you take, while building a life that feels meaningful and true to you?
That question transformed my life. And when you can answer it powerfully—when you’re creating impact, thriving, and living a life aligned with your purpose—you realize something extraordinary: you really can have it all.
I’m Shaun Frankson, co-founder of Plastic Bank, a global movement that’s stopped billions of plastic bottles from entering the ocean while lifting thousands of people out of poverty. But this isn’t a story about how to build the next Plastic Bank. It’s about what I’ve learned on the journey—how becoming an Impact Champion is about creating change where it matters most to you, no matter where you start.
Here’s what I’ve realized along the way: this path is full of both triumphs and setbacks. I’ve experienced the highs of watching lives transform and the lows of facing unexpected challenges. Every success taught me what was possible, and every mistake revealed lessons I needed to learn. And now, I want to share those lessons with you, so you don’t have to learn them the hard way.
In this chapter, I’ll share a little about my own journey—how a car crash forced me to confront who I was and who I wanted to become, and how that one question became the foundation for everything that followed. I’ll also share stories of others I’ve witnessed stepping into their roles as Impact Champions, showing how change can start anywhere and grow in ways you never expect.
In our journey of creating Plastic Bank, we discovered that real change doesn’t happen because of one company or one big idea. It happens when people like you step up and lead with purpose. When you step into your own role as an Impact Champion, you create ripples of change that extend far beyond what any individual can do alone.
And that’s what this book is about: helping you unlock the habits, questions, and actions that allow you to create a fulfilling life of meaningful impact—on your terms.
Here’s the secret: it’s not just about one thing. It’s not just about giving back, or succeeding, or thriving. It’s about stepping powerfully into all of it—becoming the person capable of creating impact, giving more to the world than you take, and building the life and lifestyle you’ve always wanted. Because when all of these things come together, something extraordinary happens: you realize you really can have it all.
In the chapters ahead, we’ll dive into the fundamentals of this way of living. You’ll learn how to show up powerfully, create impact in the spaces where you have influence, and thrive in every aspect of your life. Because the journey of becoming isn’t about being someone else’s version of success—it’s about unlocking your ability to create the legacy you were meant to build.
And here’s the most important part: it doesn’t matter where you’re starting from. It doesn’t matter what your history is, what you’ve done before today, or what obstacles you’ve faced. What matters is what you choose to do today and every day thereafter. That is the journey of becoming. And that is the power we’ll unlock together in this podcast.
Part 2: The Accident That Changed Everything
Have you ever had a moment that forced you to stop and reexamine everything? For me, that moment came at twenty-two, in the form of a head-on car crash. At the time, I was the lead singer of a rock band, living in the moment and enjoying the ride. The crash could have been the end of my story, but instead, it became the beginning of a new chapter.
Before the accident, I’d never really thought about my purpose. The band wasn’t something I saw as a calling—it was a passion project, and, to be honest, a strategy to have fun and meet girls. By that point, though, I’d already met Lindsey, my wife. So, mission accomplished.
But lying there, bedridden for weeks, unable to escape my own thoughts, I had to confront questions I’d been avoiding: What do I really want out of life? Who am I, and who do I want to become? That forced reflection hit me hard.
As I sat with it, I realized something important: I wasn’t passionate about performing or writing songs. What I really loved was the strategy—figuring out how to book gigs, grow our audience, and turn our shows into an experience. It wasn’t about the music; it was about creating and executing the strategies behind the music.
And that’s when it clicked. I wasn’t just a musician—I was a strategist. As dorky as it sounded, I loved strategy. For the first time, I let myself dream beyond the band, beyond what I thought I was supposed to be. I decided: I want to be a change-the-world strategist.
I didn’t know what that looked like or how to make it happen, but it was enough to get started. It was my blurry vision—a direction, even if it wasn’t fully clear. And from that moment on, I began a journey of becoming the person capable of making it real.
Part 3: Bridging the Gap
After the accident, I had one clear realization: I wanted to become a “change-the-world strategist.” But beyond that, I had no clue what it meant or how to get there. All I had was a blurry vision and the determination to take the next step—whatever that looked like.
My first step was saying yes to every opportunity, even if I didn’t feel ready. My sister was working as a consultant at the time, and she invited me to join some of her projects. Together, we even started a small nutritional consulting business. The catch? I knew absolutely nothing about nutrition. But this wasn’t about mastering nutrition—it was about sharpening my strategic thinking and building confidence in my ability to add value.
Those early experiments weren’t about making money. They were about figuring out what worked, learning from failures, and proving to myself that I could move forward. Inspired by this momentum, I decided to fast-track my growth by enrolling in the entrepreneurial management program at Royal Roads University. It was an intense, eleven-month program that crammed two years of learning into less than one. That intensity was exactly what I needed.
While at Royal Roads, I realized something important: I wasn’t going to become the person I wanted to be just by sitting in a classroom. So, I took action. I started the Social Business Club on campus, rallying over sixty of my classmates to join. The mission was simple: create real-world consulting projects and small businesses that gave back to the community while helping everyone gain experience for their goals.
For me, the club became more than a project—it was a sandbox to proactively create any real world experience that anyone was brave enough to bring to life. It also helped to fast tracked my leadership learning-curve in the business world. I learned how to inspire people, align them with a shared vision, and create environments where their ideas could thrive.
After graduation, I enthusiastically continued my path of proactive experience building. I launched a series of small businesses to expand on my personal portfolio. Social media was just starting to take off, and I saw an opportunity. I started offering website design and social media strategy services. Did I know how to build websites? Not at all. But I said yes anyway and figured it out along the way. Thank god for YouTube tutorials.
One of my favorite projects during this time was a web series I created called Cool in Vancouver. I hosted, produced, and promoted it, showcasing the best dining, drinking, and entertainment options in the city. It was a crash course in storytelling, branding, and creating something memorable. Every project became another brick in the bridge I was building toward my blurry vision.
But after about a year and a half of solo entrepreneurship, I started hitting a growth wall. I was doing everything myself—sales, execution, marketing—and I realized that if I truly wanted to grow at hyper speed, I needed to collaborate. I needed to work with and learn from others who could push me to a new level. It was time to leverage phase 1 of my experience building plan to create the next big opportunity.
Part 4: Meeting David Katz
It was around this time, as I searched for my next big opportunity, that I met David Katz. David wasn’t just any entrepreneur—he was one of those visionaries who wasn’t afraid to challenge the status quo or take risks. That energy immediately drew me in. I saw him as someone I could learn from, someone who could push me to think bigger than I ever had before.
At the time, David was running a GPS tracking company and looking for someone to build a marketing department from scratch. It sounded like exactly the kind of challenge I was searching for. But I wasn’t going to treat this like a normal job interview. If I wanted to stand out, I needed to approach this differently.
When I walked into the interview, I didn’t just bring a résumé—I brought a full presentation. I had a projector, slides, and a ninety-day action plan outlining exactly how I would build and execute his marketing strategy. It wasn’t just an interview; it was a pitch. I wanted to show David that I wasn’t just looking for a job—I was ready to be the person who could help him achieve his vision. Looking back, it might have been a bit over the top, but it worked. David hired me, and I jumped in headfirst.
From the very beginning, I made it my mission to take on as much responsibility as I could. I didn’t just want to stay in my lane—I wanted to understand every part of the business. Within a year, I’d been promoted to vice president of the company, and my focus shifted from building the marketing department to systematizing the entire operation. One of my proudest accomplishments during this time was creating the systems to automate David out of much of the day-to-day operations. This gave him the space to focus on the next big thing.
Then one day while David was attending a conference on breakthrough technologies I received a late-night call from him out of the blue. He said, “Shaun, I’ve figured out our next business. We can reveal the value in plastic and make it too valuable to end up in the ocean. It’s called the Plastic Bank.”
It felt like the perfect intersection of everything I cared about: environmental impact, social entrepreneurship, and strategic innovation. But what made it even more powerful was David’s readiness to act.
In one of the boldest moves I’d ever seen, David sold the GPS tracking company and reinvested everything into this vision. It was a massive leap of faith, but that’s who David is—persistent, resilient, and deeply passionate about bringing ideas to life through consistent action.
The scale of the vision was massive. We were talking about creating a global bottle deposit system, one that could fundamentally change how the world viewed plastic. It was exhilarating, but it was also daunting. Instead of letting the enormity of the challenge intimidate us, we grounded ourselves in one question: How do we become the people capable of figuring this out?
That question became our guiding principle. We didn’t have all the answers, and the path forward wasn’t clear. But we were committed to learning, adapting, and taking bold steps forward. For me, this wasn’t just the start of a business—it was the start of a transformation in who I was becoming.
To anchor myself in that commitment, I took it one step further. Within a year, I had completed my full sleeve tattoos. My core values—Create, Inspire, Strategize—were inked on my arms, along with symbols from The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and other guiding principles that had shaped my journey. Once the ink dried, it felt like putting on armor—bold, personal, and unmistakably mine. It wasn’t about standing out; it was about showing up for the mission I had set for myself.
These tattoos weren’t just for show—they were a daily reminder of who I was striving to become and what I was committed to achieving. Looking back, this was a turning point in my life. It wasn’t just about launching Plastic Bank—it was about stepping into a role where I could create meaningful impact and empower others to do the same.
Part 5: Building Momentum—The Petition
With the vision for Plastic Bank in place, we knew one thing for certain: we couldn’t do this alone. If we wanted to turn this bold idea into reality, we needed to inspire others to take action alongside us. We needed to build a movement.
Our first step was deceptively simple: a petition. We launched a Facebook page with a direct and powerful message: “I demand corporations help stop ocean plastic.” It wasn’t flashy, but it was clear. It gave people an easy way to show they cared and take a stand. At first, we got just one like. Then a few more. Then a few hundred.
And then something extraordinary happened. The petition started gaining real momentum. Hundreds turned into hundreds of thousands, and before we knew it, we crossed the one-million mark. One million people had taken the time to say they cared about this issue. They didn’t just sign a petition—they became part of a movement. Each person who joined became an impact champion in their own right, playing their part at the right moment to spark change. It wasn’t just about two people with an idea anymore—it was about one million voices coming together to demand action.
That petition was more than a collection of signatures. It was a symbol of what’s possible when you give people a way to participate. It united people across the globe who wanted to be part of the solution. And it gave us something even more powerful: leverage. With a million voices behind us, we could go to corporations, media outlets, and influencers and say, “This isn’t just an idea. This is what the world is demanding.”
But we knew the petition alone wouldn’t carry the message far enough. We needed to amplify it. That’s where my LinkedIn growth-hacking strategy came in. This wasn’t just sending a few cold messages or posting updates. It was a deliberate, grueling effort to connect with the right people in the media who could share our story with the world.
Here’s how I did it: I started by identifying every media company I could and connecting with as many people as possible from those organizations. Once connected, I reached out and asked one key question: “Who at your company is most likely to cover a story like ours?” Using these responses, I built a target list of journalists and editors to pitch our story to directly.
It worked. Within weeks, the media interviews started to roll in. In just a couple of months, we were doing national TV interviews and were featured in Forbes, TIME, and other major outlets. Over the next two years, this approach led to more than 500 media features.
The media coverage didn’t just tell our story—it validated our movement. People started reaching out, offering ways they could help or play a part. The visibility also helped validate our business model with our first clients, building trust and momentum for the company.
The biggest lesson? You don’t just sit back and wait for the media to call you—you make it happen yourself. Not just once, but repeatedly, every time you have something newsworthy to share. This approach turns media into a tool you can control to amplify your vision and create real impact.
The takeaway from this phase of the journey was clear: when you give people the opportunity to play a part, they step up. Whether it was signing the petition, sharing the message, or reaching out to offer help, the momentum showed that people are eager to contribute when they feel their actions matter. This realization became a cornerstone of how we built Plastic Bank—by giving people the tools and opportunities to make a difference, we turned a bold idea into a collaborative movement.
Part 6: The First Collection Centers
After the petition gained traction and media coverage brought visibility to our mission, we knew it was time to move from inspiration to action. We needed to prove that Plastic Bank wasn’t just a big idea but something that could create tangible, life-changing impact. It was time to build our first collection centers.
The opportunity came from Haiti, a place at the intersection of two crises: plastic pollution and systemic poverty. Plastic waste filled the streets, rivers, and beaches, choking the environment and the potential for communities to thrive. Haiti’s waste management infrastructure was practically non-existent, leaving collectors—those who tried to salvage and recycle materials—earning barely enough to survive. These collectors were often called “waste pickers,” and “scavengers”, terms as degrading as the conditions they worked under. They were invisible to society, despite doing vital work.
Starting in Haiti wasn’t easy. In fact, it was one of the most challenging places we could have chosen. But that’s exactly why we did. If we could make this model work here, we could show the world that it was possible to create change anywhere.
When we arrived, we were confronted with the magnitude of the challenges. This wasn’t just about plastic—it was about human dignity, systemic poverty, and a lack of opportunity. It became clear that our guiding question had to go beyond recycling. The question wasn’t just how do we collect more plastic? It was how do we make plastic valuable enough to transform lives?
This became our mission: How can we reveal the value in plastic so it becomes too valuable to be thrown away?
Our first breakthrough came when we reframed the idea of value through the lens of local needs. In Haiti, many communities had little to no reliable access to electricity. People without power at home often had to pay small businesses to charge their phones—using the few dollars they had for what many of us take for granted.
We realized we could transform this challenge into an opportunity. At our first collection locations, we equipped solar-powered stations that allowed people to charge their phones for "free" using plastic as currency. These stations didn’t just power phones; they lit up the community at night, creating safer spaces and giving people access to opportunities long out of reach. Suddenly, plastic wasn’t just waste. It became a resource that could connect families, light homes, and enable possibility.
This wasn’t just an environmental solution—it was a cultural shift. For the first time, plastic became an enabler of opportunity, not a burden.
But the road wasn’t easy. Around the same time we launched in Haiti, global oil prices plummeted, dragging down the value of recycled plastic. Many collectors gave up—it simply wasn’t worth their time. For us, this was a defining moment. We realized we needed to rethink the way value was created and ensure plastic could hold its worth, no matter the market.
We got innovative. We introduced bonuses that allowed collectors to earn increased incomes above the market rate of recycled plastic, insulating them from global price swings. And we didn’t stop there. We connected their efforts to tangible benefits like sustainable cooking fuels, access to healthcare, and education. These changes weren’t just about financial security—they were about restoring dignity.
Collectors were no longer seen as scavengers but as professionals. Their work fueled positive change—not just for the planet but for their families and communities. By addressing the real, everyday needs of people, we built a model that didn’t just recycle plastic—it empowered lives.
And then, one day, we received feedback that stopped us in our tracks. A collector, someone who had lived their entire life on the edge of survival, said to us, “Thanks to your program, I’m now the kind of person who can afford shoes.”
That statement hit us like a wave. It revealed just how stark the reality of their lives had been and how transformative even a small, consistent increase in income could be. Shoes. Something so simple, so basic, yet so out of reach for so many. It wasn’t just about the shoes—it was about what they represented: hope.
In that moment, we realized this wasn’t just about livelihoods. It was about creating hope where there had only been survival. In a world where people lived day to day, just trying to make it through, we had created a spark of possibility. A spark that said, things can get better.
This idea of hope transformed how we viewed our work. It wasn’t just about economics or recycling—it was about revealing the value in people. By offering consistency, dignity, and opportunity, we could help people see themselves differently. We could help them move from survival to possibility, from desperation to belief in a better future.
The first collection centers weren’t perfect. They were experiments, and we learned every step of the way. But what they proved was undeniable: when you value people, you change everything.
The ripple effects were immediate. Families gained financial stability. Communities began to see the value in plastic and, more importantly, the value in the people who collected it. Collectors weren’t just participating in a system—they were becoming leaders of it. They showed us the power of ownership, pride, and authenticity.
Looking back, Haiti was more than just our starting point. It was our proving ground. It taught us that small actions, when scaled through empowerment and consistency, can create monumental change. It taught us that innovation doesn’t have to be high-tech or complicated—it just has to meet people where they are.
Most importantly, it taught us that the heart of impact lies in empowering others. Those collectors in Haiti weren’t just beneficiaries of our programs—they were our teachers, showing us what’s possible when people are given hope.
Hope isn’t just a feeling. It’s a catalyst. And in those early days in Haiti, it was the catalyst that transformed lives, communities, and the very foundation of what Plastic Bank was becoming.
Part 7: Plastic Credits and Technology
Plastic credits weren’t part of our original vision for Plastic Bank—they emerged from necessity, a challenge that pushed us to innovate in unexpected ways. After launching our collection centers, we partnered with corporations eager to adopt Social Plastic™. But soon, a roadblock became clear: integrating recycled plastic into their products wasn’t as simple as flipping a switch. Supply chain limitations, certification requirements, and logistical constraints made immediate adoption impossible for some of our partners.
At first, it felt like a setback. But instead of seeing it as a failure, we asked ourselves: What if companies could still take meaningful action while preparing for long-term change?
This question led to the creation of plastic credits. Much like carbon credits, plastic credits allowed companies to offset their plastic footprint by investing in environmental and social impact. But we didn’t stop there. Every credit would represent more than just a kilogram of plastic collected—it would be tied to real benefits for the people and communities at the heart of the recycling chain. Higher incomes for collectors. Access to healthcare. Microloans. Education. Plastic credits became a way for companies to drive impact while they transitioned toward a more sustainable future.
But then came the next challenge: trust. One of our corporate partners said something that stuck with us: “If we’re going to support this, it needs to be attack-proof.” They wanted absolute transparency—proof that every kilogram we claimed was collected, verified, and tied to measurable outcomes.
This feedback was pivotal. Trust couldn’t just be a feature of plastic credits—it had to be the foundation of the entire system. We needed a way to make every step, every transaction, and every credit completely verifiable. That’s when we began exploring blockchain technology.
But we weren’t looking for a theoretical blockchain solution or a decentralized system built for cryptocurrency. We needed something practical, scalable, and tailored to our unique business needs. We needed a business blockchain. And that’s what led us to IBM.
When we approached IBM, we didn’t have a fully developed plan. What we had was an idea and a challenge: Could blockchain technology help us make plastic credits attack-proof? Could it create the trust we needed to scale our impact globally?
This wasn’t a standard project for IBM. They didn’t have an off-the-shelf product to meet our needs. But something incredible happened. A handful of individuals at IBM heard our mission and said, “We think we can help.” These weren’t just technologists—they were changemakers, people inspired by the idea of using their skills to create meaningful impact.
They invited us into a series of design-thinking workshops. These sessions weren’t about pitching existing products—they were about ideating something entirely new. Together, we explored the possibilities of blockchain for good. Could we design a system that worked for both global corporations and collectors in rural, low-connectivity environments? Could technology bridge the gap between transparency and accessibility?
These workshops became a launchpad for innovation. IBM didn’t develop the platform for us, but they gave us something just as valuable: guidance, expertise, and a space to ideate. They helped us map out what could be possible, and with their insights, we brought the vision to life.
Over time we built a blockchain-secured platform designed for trust. Every kilogram of plastic collected could now be tracked with absolute transparency, from the hands of the collector to the issuance of a plastic credit. This system wasn’t just scalable—it was attack-proof. For collectors, it meant confidence that their work was being valued fairly and consistently. For corporate partners, it meant proof that their investments were driving real, measurable change.
But the partnership didn’t end with the platform. IBM saw the potential to use our story as a beacon for tech for good. They invited us to share the mission on a global scale, creating awareness campaigns that showcased how technology could drive social and environmental impact.
One of the most memorable moments came when IBM featured Plastic Bank in a global ad campaign, airing during the World Series and the US Open. This wasn’t just about promoting blockchain—it was about amplifying a message: technology, when paired with purpose, can change the world.
Over time, our relationship with IBM continued to evolve. The spark of collaboration from those early workshops attracted changemakers from across the globe. We’ve since held design-thinking sessions with IBM teams in France, New York, the UK, the Philippines, and beyond. Each time, the energy in the room has been electric.
What’s extraordinary is how often one person—one changemaker—can say, “I think we could help,” and bring others into the fold. Each session is a testament to collective creativity. People from completely different industries, geographies, and expertise come together with one shared goal: to create something meaningful. It’s inspiring to witness the group energy as ideas flow, challenges are tackled, and solutions begin to take shape.
These moments remind me of a powerful truth: changemakers are everywhere. Sometimes they’re collectors working in the field. Sometimes they’re corporate executives looking for ways to make an impact. And sometimes they’re specialists at a global tech company, using their expertise to drive innovation and support a mission bigger than themselves.
Looking back, the digitization of plastic credits wasn’t just a technological achievement—it was a collaboration of people who believed in the power of purpose. It wasn’t just about making plastic too valuable to waste—it was about proving that trust and transparency can create systems that uplift people and transform industries.
The partnership with IBM showed us what’s possible when changemakers align around a shared vision. It wasn’t just a business relationship—it was a movement. A movement fueled by collaboration, trust, and the belief that technology can do more than solve problems. It can create hope, opportunity, and lasting impact.
Part 8: Learning to Sustain the Journey
I remember 2017, as the year that everything was starting to come to life. We were 4 years into the mission and I was finaly checking off my goals list at hyper speed. Plastic Bank was gaining momentum, and it felt like everything I had worked for was finally happening. That year, we were featured in A Plastic Ocean, an award-winning documentary that exposed the heartbreaking reality of ocean plastic pollution and positioned Plastic Bank as a hero solution. We also made an appearance on Dragon’s Den, Canada’s equivalent of Shark Tank, i shared my thoughts for how to save the world through responsible, consumerism on the TEDx stage, and we surpassed a major milestone—over 1 billion bottles of impact.
On paper, it was the best year of my life. But with each goal checked off, I was burning out, and none of the celebration or joy I’d anticipated came with it.
It all started with A Plastic Ocean. Seeing the film for the first time on the big screen was surreal, and it opened doors I never expected. Soon, I was traveling the world, speaking on stages, joining panel discussions, and connecting with audiences inspired by what they’d seen in the documentary. It was an incredible opportunity to amplify our message, build partnerships, and connect with changemakers eager to make a difference.
This was everything I had dreamed of—sharing the vision of Plastic Bank with the world, inspiring others, and being part of a global movement for change. But as the speaking tour unfolded, I found myself going through the motions like a zombie on autopilot.
One night, after a packed event and an energetic panel discussion, I returned to my hotel room and felt completely drained. The applause, the excitement, the conversations—it should have been invigorating. But instead, I sat there staring at the ceiling, feeling strangely hollow.
Why am I not enjoying this? I thought. Why doesn’t this feel like the moment I’ve been working for?
The answer wasn’t immediately clear, but as the tour went on, I began to understand. I was burning out. And it wasn’t just the travel, the long hours, or the pressure of presenting on global stages. It was something deeper.
I realized I was allowing too many external events to affect my headspace. I was letting other people’s frictions, reactions, arguments, and problems weigh on me for longer than I was accustomed to. I was building a habit of holding on to my own triggers and reactions far longer than I should. With each friction or reaction compounding on the next, I found myself becoming someone I didn’t recognize.
I’d always thought of myself as a fairly stress-free kind of guy. But now, seemingly out of nowhere, a small comment or tough conversation could throw me off and make the whole day—or even week—feel like a grind. Instead of thriving in the role I had worked so hard to create, I was stuck in a cycle of stress and reaction.
And there was something else, too. I had forgotten to enjoy the journey.
I was traveling to some of the most beautiful cities in the world, but instead of soaking in the sights, I was rushing from hotel rooms to stages, from airports to meetings. I wasn’t experiencing the places I visited or the moments I was living. Every new city became just another stop, another task, another destination to check off before moving on. Even the milestone we just hit, such as collecting over 1 billion bottles worth of impact and Helping over 10,000 collection members, felt empty, because they weren’t even close to the targets we were working towards. My job was to think and live in the future, and the unintended consequence of that was that i had somehow forgotten how to have fun in the present. It seemed impossible to just pause, take a breath and enjoy the simple joy of being in a foreign city, of meeting new people, of helping those who needed it the most. I was so focused on the mission, so driven by the work, that I was missing the gift of the moments right in front of me.
That night in the hotel room was a turning point. I realized I couldn’t keep going like this. If I was going to sustain the mission, I needed to sustain myself first.
The first thing I had to tackle was my mindset. I began to see how often I allowed external factors—feedback, challenges, or even my own thoughts—to take me out of my good state of mind. A single comment, a moment of doubt, or an unexpected hurdle could completely derail me.
I turned to mindfulness, looking for tools to help me regain control over my headspace. Books like The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle and The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer became my guides. They taught me that resilience isn’t about powering through everything—it’s about learning to pause, reflect, and let go of what doesn’t serve you.
One practice that became central for me was the intentional breath. Whenever I felt overwhelmed or triggered, I paused, took a deep breath, and reset. It was simple but transformative. It reminded me that I didn’t have to react to everything, that I had the power to choose my response.
As I began to practice mindfulness, I noticed a shift. I started to experience moments more fully—to truly feel the energy of a conversation, the excitement of an audience, the beauty of a city before a speech, and the incredible gift of living this life.
Another key realization was the need to embrace imperfection. I had spent so much time trying to present the perfect message, the perfect strategy, the perfect vision, that I forgot the power of authenticity. The truth is, no one is perfect. Progress, not perfection, is what drives meaningful change.
This mindset didn’t just help me personally—it reshaped how I led Plastic Bank. I started encouraging our team to focus on progress over perfection, to celebrate small wins, and to see every challenge as an opportunity to learn and grow.
Reflecting on this time, I see it as one of the most important periods of my life. It wasn’t just about overcoming burnout or managing stress—it was about redefining what success meant to me. Success wasn’t just about creating impact or achieving goals—it was about thriving while doing it. It was about giving more to the world than I took while fully experiencing the gift of every moment.
This shift didn’t happen overnight, but it changed everything. It taught me that the journey of creating a fulfilling life of meaningful impact starts within. It’s about becoming the person capable of thriving, contributing, and embracing every moment along the way.
That lesson didn’t just change how I approached my work—it changed how I lived my life. And it’s a lesson I carry forward every day: that the journey isn’t just about what you achieve—it’s about how you feel, grow, and connect along the way. Because when you can thrive, give back, and experience the gift of every moment, you truly can have it all.
Part 9: The Power of Changemakers and the Teams They Build
One of the most powerful lessons I’ve learned is that change doesn’t come from waiting for the perfect conditions or a grand, company-wide initiative. It comes from people—changemakers—who care enough to act, no matter where they’re starting from.
And more often than not, those changemakers don’t act alone. They attract others—a small, focused group of individuals who bring complementary skills and shared purpose. Together, they become a tiger team, working collaboratively to create progress one step at a time.
I’ll never forget one of my first experiences with a tiger team. I was flown out to London by a global corporation to lead a workshop on gamifying incentives for their supply chain. They had brought me in as a strategist to explore ways to inspire efficiency and innovation within their systems.
What struck me immediately was the energy in the room. This wasn’t a team brought together by chance—they were handpicked to drive change. Everyone there had a unique skill set, and they were all focused on a shared mission: to find opportunities for transformation.
During a break, I had a chance to speak with the team leader. I asked him, “How did you get this job, it seems fun?”
He answered without hesitation: “Because they know I’m the guy who can make change happen.”
That statement has stayed with me ever since. His entire career was built on being the person who could step into the most challenging situations and drive progress where no one else thought it was possible. He didn’t wait for perfect answers or total alignment—he simply acted, and in doing so, inspired others to follow.
This is the essence of tiger teams. They don’t focus on what’s impossible. They focus on what’s possible, and they take small, consistent steps to prove it.
But here’s the challenge I’ve seen time and time again: perfectionism.
I once asked the head of innovation at another major company what his biggest obstacle was. He didn’t hesitate: “Perfectionism,” he said.
He explained that both internally and externally, the expectation of perfection often created paralysis. “When consumers demand that everything be perfect,” he told me, “it creates a culture of fear. People are afraid to try because if their efforts aren’t flawless, they’ll be criticized. And when perfection becomes the expectation, the safest choice is to do nothing.”
This is the danger of the all-or-nothing mindset. When small wins are dismissed as not good enough, progress stops. And when progress stops, change becomes impossible.
But tiger teams, and the changemakers who lead them, reject that mindset. They don’t let the fear of imperfection hold them back. They act, knowing that small wins are the foundation for bigger ones.
At Plastic Bank, we’ve seen this play out countless times. Some of the most impactful changes we’ve been part of didn’t start with sweeping corporate mandates. They started with individuals—changemakers—who cared enough to act.
What excites me most today is that the tools and systems that were once reserved for the largest corporations are now accessible to everyone. Purpose, planet, and prosperity are no longer exclusive ideals. They’re within reach for anyone who wants to make an impact.
If you’re wondering where to begin, here’s my advice: start small. Form your own tiger team. Bring together people who share your vision and are willing to act with you. Focus on what you can influence, and take that first step.
It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to solve everything. But it does have to start.
And here’s the truth about changemaking: it’s not just about the impact you create. It’s about the legacy you leave.
I’m reminded of a conversation I had with one of our key partners at IBM. This person had poured countless hours into supporting Plastic Bank—far beyond what his role required. One evening, I asked him, “Why do you do it? You’ve put in so much extra effort. What motivates you?”
He smiled and said something I’ll never forget: “Because my kids are proud of me. When I tell them about what we’re doing together, they beam. They’re proud of what I do for a living. That’s why I do it.”
That moment struck me deeply. It reminded me that the work we do, the change we create, isn’t just about numbers or metrics. It’s about meaning. It’s about being able to go home at the end of the day and feel proud of what you’ve contributed to the world.
And that’s it.
Do it because it’s the right thing to do. Do it because it’s the best use of you on this planet.
The rest of this podcast will dive deeper into the principles that make this possible. We’ll explore how to become the person capable of creating a fulfilling life of meaningful impact. We’ll talk about showing up powerfully, embracing progress over perfection, and making intentional choices that align with your values.
Because when you align your actions with your purpose, you don’t just create change—you inspire it. You empower others. And together, we can build a future where everyone has the opportunity to make the world better.
It starts with you. And it starts today.
Thank you for being part of this journey with me. If this resonates with you, I invite you to take the next step. Join us at PlasticBank.com and become part of a global community of changemakers. Together, let’s create a legacy of positive impact—one habit, one choice, one act of courage at a time.