As many of you now know, yesterday with the internal team and today with the entire external field organization I announced publicly my resignation from Univera as the CEO of International. I’ll be wrapping up my time at Univera through the end of May.

I have nothing but the greatest things to say about my time at Univera. The people involved, and particularly each of the field leaders as well as some key people internally (special thanks to Regan, a great boss and friend, as well as my teammates, too many to mention), have been nothing short of exceptional to me–you’ve been true partners all along the way. I’m also grateful to Bill Lee, who has provided me such an incredible opportunity these past four years.

It’s now been 4.5 years, and after several expanded roles at Univera, I can think of no other job in North America that could have stretched me as much as did these past experiences. From good times to exceptionally tough times, from long-term strategic planning to dealing with urgent “today” issues, from driving to objective decisions based on market data to those decisions related almost wholly to heart, emotion and subjectivity, there is no other job that I can think of which would have been as powerful an accelerator in my personal and professional life as this one. It’s been 15-years worth of experience in a little under five years of time. And while I have learned so much, at the same time, I feel like I’m just getting warmed up.

Which puts me at a place in my professional career where, for a variety of reasons, I have selected to take a different path and move onto the next thing professionally. The dream that has existed at Univera for each of you still remains; for me, however, for now my dream and destiny rests elsewhere (the details of which I’m keeping quiet about for now). While I’m very excited about my future, I’m also bittersweet for the reasons each of you know.

What’s next?

As some of you recall, at Convention two years ago when I spoke about our goals and dreams, I made a firm commitment to achieve four goals in my life and created a plan in order to achieve each one. Two have been accomplished (a certain business goal, and also my trip back to Kolkata, India), yet two still remain to be completed–and I’m stubbornly determined to accomplish them both, in addition to some new ones along the way.

The two goals? One is to complete a book I am supposed to write, and it needs to be done this year. The second is a physical health goal, specifically to get down to 15% bodyfat. So I’m still going to succeed at these, no matter how frustrated or off course I’ve been with them both (and as an aside, neither should you be frustrated by any delays in your goal setting/achievement…you can still accomplish them, stick with it, keep re-loading as needed…don’t quit, don’t quit!), and those are going to be a focus this year in addition to my new professional endeavors.

And, there’s more writing I’ll continue to do. It’s not for lack of content that I haven’t blogged for the past month, for a variety of reasons I just felt better to let it rest. But I’m going to continue blogging.

And my focus will largely continue to be about personal development–to try to write in an authentic way, without idle BS that so often peppers our talk that gets in the way of truth, and to try to continue to share stories of people who have done either the ordinary or extraordinary, or have learned lessons along the way.

Some of them are stories of the deepest magnitude, a hero who touched–and saved–so many lives, like that of Rick Rescorla during 9/11. Others have been fun filled gifts of laughter and play, like the Forever Wedding Dance couple who taught us a simple lesson about celebration and having fun. And then there are stories about the unbridled passion to make a difference in the lives of kids–like Geoffrey Canada with the Harlem Children’s Zone. None  of those are original content, simply the pulling of stories of others with a few pieces of commentary alongside.

And it will continue to be sprinkled with some personal stories and anecdotes–some involving my business endeavors and others around personal experiences. So those things will continue, and I hope you’ll freely participate along the way. You can also follow me on Twitter (@richraz2) or on Facebook (“Rich Razgaitis”).

What I get absolutely fired up about is to see people pursue their passion, whatever and wherever that may be, so that each of us can find their destiny and achieve greatness (which, has nothing to do with title or money). These can mean radically different things for all of us. The key, though, for every one of us, is to find and pursue with unbridled passion those things for which you and I were intended.

That is when the magic happens.

It’s the reason that I love movies like Crazy Heart. Stories of redemption, personal calling, overcoming a struggle to achieve greatness. I read a great quote the other day: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” I love to connect with those who are fighting the hard battle–but also remain determined and destined to achieve greatness. At the same time, I would love to imprint upon others a distaste for apathy in a way that makes them sick. Yes, we should hate apathy (in most all cases) because it’s one of the greatest thieves from you pursuing your purpose. Being apathetic is giving up, it’s not caring. And once we’ve lost the heart and passion to care, well, I don’t know how to reignite that again–let alone help someone win.

So onwards with the stories of perseverance towards purpose.

Erica and the girls are both torn yet excited for our future. They, too, went “all in” with us on this Univera journey. I’m thankful for the sacrifices they’ve made to let me have the time and adventure with each of you. They’re ready for the next move, though, and are resilient and excited despite this being bittersweet.

I will miss each one of you. Tremendously. Together we have gone through it all, especially those of you who have been on this journey with me for years. It is, really, too difficult to put into words without sounding trite or filled with hyperbole. There’s a lot that’s happened. A lot we learned. And even more we gained.

So I’ll leave it at this: together we’ve been through it all, and I love you a lot. No matter what.

Thanks for a great journey.

Your friend,

Raz

In the summer of ’86 there was a great Wall Street Journal (hereinafter WSJ) article written about a Frozen Custard Stand in Lafayette, Indiana.

I was 13 at the time.

What was I doing reading the WSJ? Well, Friday night WSJ review nights, of course. Some of you know that every week we’d have “article review” where me, my sisters, and my dad would sit around the dining room table (you all did this too, right?) and review our inbox reading for the week (you had one of these also, yeah?) and talk about what we learned.

No, I am not making this up.

The intended purpose was, I assume, about developing cognitive reasoning skills as well as practicing retention, and of course I wouldn’t forget the riveting family fun involved. Well, for real, it ACTUALLY was fun (we didn’t know better ) and it enabled us to spend time together. Well, the short of the story was that later in the summer of ’86 we all decided to take a road trip to Lafayette to hit the custard place that we all read about. We were on our way out West, if I recall, but in any event we opted for a two-hour detour just to get a taste of this stuff. We never went there again. I don’t even think we ever really talked about it again.

Fast forward 23-years…

So this week I’m on the road, starting in Dallas (my birthplace), the next day Knoxville, the next day Indy for the day (meeting w/ old friends and also a pretty cool networking meeting that’s fodder for another blog entry) and I’m leaving Indy in a way-too-small rental car making my way up to Merrillville, which isn’t all too far from Chicago.

As I’m driving I basically remember this article (yes, this is bizarre I know–but it’s just how my mind works) from ’86 in the WSJ and that I’ll be driving near Lafayette off I-65. An iPhone Safari search and 30 seconds later and I’ve got the address of the Original Frozen Custard stand  in Lafayette.

So I go. And as I’m there a flood of memories return, from the WSJ review nights (I can still recall talking about the owners of the Custard Stand, and how they reinvented their former business from the 30′s to develop this world-renowned frozen custard because…well, who cares at this point why…) to the trip I took with my family to how good it was when I first tasted it when I was 13.

Prudence should’ve stopped me at the serving of Pumpkin Pie (they don’t allow samples or mixing at all–it’s like Soup Nazi from Seinfeld, kinda), but then I needed to try Mint Chip (not that great) and then some sundae of sorts (pretty good as well, but the Pumpkin was the best), yet I was so enveloped in the moment and all the memories of the past that I just had to have a few samples–and, no, I didn’t eat all of them. But even after sitting outside at this place, literally by myself with nobody else around, amidst a gorgeous afternoon with the crisp smell of Fall in the air, I didn’t want to leave. Because, to leave, meant I would also leave the nostalgia.

The lesson I was reminded of?

Make memories.

And, depending on what you’re doing, who knows if the memories will resurface 23 days, 23 months, or in my case, 23 years later.

Today I’m reposting a video from a year ago as we prepare for a really exceptional event in Seattle NEXT WEEK! 

June 26th and 27th (though the 70′s celebration band/bash starts on Thursday night the 25th, as well as some great workshops earlier that afternoon) we’re going to be celebrating Univera’s 10th year anniversary, learning from the best of the best in business building which includes some great keynotes from Paul Zane Pilzer, Neil Offen (Prez of DSA), and Tim Sales. 

There’s personal development with Taylor Hartman and others, a deep reach into our culture where we’ll talk about the great work being done by Serve First and other volunteerism projects, some evening comedic relief with Michael Junior, and a lot of fabulous workshops. 

This entire event is focused on…getting all of us the next level.

Professionally (get to the next rank!), physically (run or walk the 5k, eat healthier!), and culturally (let’s increase contributions to the children needing nourishment, and give more time!). 

So in honor of next weeks event, and all the merits in coming to Seattle, I’m reposting a video that I made last year which is a plug for all the great reasons to come to Convention to experience the amazing city of Seattle. 

Keep in mind SOME of the content is outdated. For example, the dates themselves.

And the theme, though you can still “Dream, Achieve, Live” if you want to. 

But, there are even more benefits to the program we’re putting on this year for you and your business, and all the virtues of coming to Seattle are still alive and well. So, come and enjoy–and I look forward to celebrating with you soon.

Going into the Univera Cruise a few weeks ago I was still working towards my physical goal for the year (and, technically, my target date is still end of June) but I’d moved into the mode of “well, I’ll try my best.” It was accompanied with a bit of a plan, like working out a few days a week and hitting some cardio. And trying to eat better, low glycemic foods. I was actually doing okay. But I wasn’t on track to hit my goal. 

I’m convinced a critical part of all our leadership, in any capacity, is both setting and accomplishing goals.

So midway through the Cruise the subject really unloaded on me as I was talking about setting in place your “next steps” for success on your goals to the rest of the attendees. Which, for me, specifically, had become somewhat lax related to my physical goal. So during the Cruise I became more convicted, and realized I needed to re-establish my plan. It was on the trip that I faced the hard facts–that if I didn’t do something significantly different then I was going to fail in achieving my objective.

My mistake was a simple and common one. I’d relegated a really important personal objective to simply “trying”, without the necessary support plan to ensure I both would and could get it done. 

So I came back and sat down the day after I got home, and I created a very specific plan between early May and June 26th–in fact, I went beyond that date, but I put together what I thought was the most aggressive plan that I could possibly achieve (while maintaining other responsibilities). It was very specific.

From eliminating all caffeine or wine during the week (even Green Tea, which I love but have relegated to the weekends in exchange for Roobios tea which has zero caffeine and is loaded w/ antioxidants) to eating the exact same breakfast daily (Bill Pearl protein/oatmeal combo–easy, filling, and healthy) to a virtual elimination of red meat from my diet (only once/week) among other specific plans. 

I applied the same rigor for my exercise goals, where I committed to a very specific cross-training regimen that includes Spin class on Monday’s, moderate-length runs on Tuesday through Thursday (along with lifting free weights two of these days) a rest day Friday, followed by a long run on Saturday’s and then Bikram yoga on Sunday’s. 

Even my supplementation (particularly Univera products) were isolated with how much in the AM/PM, what dosage, a titration schedule, etc. Incidentally, I’m not suggesting any of this should be your plan. In fact, I’m quite certain it shouldn’t. Instead, adopt or create something specific to you. 

By the time I was done with the plan, I KNEW that if I had a chance of achieving my goal going into Convention this was my best shot. The issue wasn’t whether it was a good plan in order to get me to my goal, as I drafted it up I KNEW it would work (at least eventually by end of summer if not by end of June) for my body type and personality. And that once I accomplished the plan I would then transition to a bit more balance, but still maintain the fundamentals. 

The question, then, became whether I was committed to following and adhering to the plan? 

Would I do what it takes? Did I really want it? And could I transform from “try” to a new mindset which was simply “no excuses, go and do it.”

The day after I wrote up the plan a funny thing happened.

I got quite sick.

It’s the most sick I’ve felt in a few years (for those of you that saw me during this time, I think I actually hid it quite well but I used a fair amount of help from Mr. Nyquil, in addition to Solanyx, Immunoburst, and Super Immune). Normally, I get over a cold or illness relatively quickly. But this was unique. This sickness, I think, was a test. It was a test to help me determine whether I’m really committed to this, and also served as a really important lesson about doing things even when you don’t feel like it. 

It made me ask myself whether I really wanted this goal, and was I willing to sacrifice or fight through feeling lousy to adhere to the plan. When I didn’t FEEL like walking two blocks, was I really willing to do my ten mile run?  

And, I came to the conclusion, that I didn’t want to fail. That’s the bottom line. I could deal with delaying my achievement date for a few weeks or months (though I’m not conceding that just yet either), and I could deal with “doing my absolute BEST” and not achieving the objective. But that I couldn’t get comfortable with a “I’ll try pretty hard” effort. I realized, I really wanted to get this done. It’s not to say that each day wasn’t a pain to get through the workout, but after each one I felt a bit better. Not physically, but emotionally. I’d built up a bank account of performed accountability, even if just to myself and with small things, that built upon each other. 

Today was the first day in two weeks that I felt “back to normal.” But that’s not what got my psyched today. What got my psyched today is that I realized I accomplished one battle over the past two weeks, which was the battle of “I feel so badly I can’t motivate to do anything physically”, yet I did it anyways. 

And it was a great reminder about the importance of having a plan and committing to the plan from a very different context than I was used to. 

Because it’s this simple. 

If we all operate under the plan for our most important goals and dreams that “I’m going to give it a try” without a clear and actionable plan then we’re–at best–setting ourselves up to fall into success. And, at worst, we’re setting ourselves up for a frustrating failure. If I’d relegated workouts over the past two weeks to when I felt like it I wouldn’t have exercised once. But, because I set out and committed to the plan, it became an easier (not easy, just easier-ER) decision. It wasn’t about whether I felt like it–it was about whether I was committed and willing to make the decision and do what it took. The plan was laid out, all I had to do was follow it.

Al Keranen and Glenn "Big Daddy" Hubbard

…you missed it and you’re a Univera associates (or interested in making some extra money), here’s a replay. 

Normally, I reserve my blog for topics related to leadership, service, and wellness–mixed in with some personal stories. Yet so much of my life is Univera and the related activities spillover continually–and this is one of those. The following was a really fun announcement (Glen and Teresa were great thanks to you both) to make via a simulcast to well over to 1,000 Univera associates who watched LIVE from all over North America–and on a Friday night to boot. In addition, we had about 150 people attending the Executive Invitational this weekend who were also in the audience.

Watch live video from Univera’s channel on Justin.tv

Why do we love the “underdog” story? Susan Boyle. “Mine that Bird” (Derby this weekend). Slumdog Millionaire (brilliant fictional drama).

To some degree, I think it’s because it represents more of “us.” Where we think we are, and what we hope to someday do or be. 

But the reality is that we’re less than an underdog than we give ourselves credit for. The following New York Times article is a good reminder that hard work, a commitment to excellence and focus, and patient determination count for a tremendous portion of our successful outcome and result. 

And there really are a lot of examples of this. A few that come to my mind off the cuff are Eric Clapton, whose music I really like, who acknowledges that if you go into a few bars chances are you’ll find someone as good or better on the guitar than him. Or take the common bit of wisdom passed onto University President’s which says “Be nice to your A-students because they’ll come back and teach; be nice to your C-students, because they’ll make all the money that funds your endowment.” And just today fact my dad sent onto me a list of “NFL Busts”, stories of guys with great talent–superhuman talent–who never went anywhere in the NFL (which was especially interesting to me because one of the guys I played against in high school was featured on the list and the guy was a rock star).

So sometimes the “talent myth” is too often decided by perception or some false quantitative measurement. No question, you need some talent. But, beyond that, there are other factors that seem to matter more. 

Genius: The Modern View

The guy on the right was driving a motorcycle and slammed the breaks to insist on posing for a picture. One of the best parts of India is meeting the people and experiencing their joy and perspective.

The following post is part of my weeklong series “Lessons Learned from Mother Teresa” (read that post first). This excerpt is part three, the final component, of the Direct Selling News article from March. I’ll post the full article and link this weekend. 

“Do not wait for leaders; do it alone, person to person.”

                                                                                                -Mother Teresa

During my first and second visits, I had a near identical experience and awakening. I remember walking to the Home of the Sick and Dying, through a part of town called Kalighat (which is also home to a very popular Hindu temple).

This is the road to the Home of Sick/Dying, also to the Kali temple. Here there was much security (due to the bombings weeks before in Mumbai) coupled with vendors lining the streets as well as thousands of homeless.

As I was walked I saw thousands of people on the street. Thousands. Babies, literally newborn infants, sleeping on dirt streets with nothing.

Begging children who were blind, as a result of unspeakable horrors inflicted upon them intentionally by adults in an attempt to amplify their appeals for help.

Innumerable bodies that were frail and physically afflicted with — at best — malnourishment, and — at worst — deadly diseases without any source of healthcare assistance.

As I continued to walk, the sights and sounds became more stirring, and my soul became emotionally discouraged. I felt a sense of helplessness and hopelessness I’ve rarely experienced. In the past, I always felt in most situations that I had a sense of control or an impact-based solution. In this case, the further I walked, the more I saw, and the deeper the extent of the extreme poverty, I began to feel that there was absolutely nothing that I could meaningfully contribute.

This is one of my favorite pictures even though it's so simple. It's the entrance to the Home of Sick and Dying, which is an overwhelming sensory experience that I can't fully express--sights, sounds, smells, touch. It is overpowering. Yet calming. I can't explain it. And this is one of the first things you see as you walk in, and this image has so many metaphorical and literal connections to the Home and India that I love it (some of which would require a longer explanation)

Yet, when I walked through the doors of the Home of the Sick and Dying, I saw 65 men lying there — whose lives, at that moment, I could impact. I remember Mother Teresa saying “Just one, even if you can help just one…” It was with this memory of her voice, coupled with the experience, which led me to understand during my time with the Missionaries of Charity that you’ll make a difference by helping just one person.

This was a profound idea for me as I came home. Many problems around the world, in my country, and even in my local community are not easily fixable. But what I clearly realized is that there’s no reason why I can’t have an impact on that one person who is out there, that needs a voice, a friend, an ear, some time, or a meal.

And most likely, what they really need is love.

This is the hospice inside of the Home, it's both dreary and bright; dreadful and beautiful; dark and light. It's a world of complete contrasts, and I found my time there to actually be calming, rewarding, and deep--something I remember from my last trip a decade ago

There exists no rational reason why I, as a human being who has been given so much, can’t simply take another few steps to help that one person who needs it most – regardless of whether that circumstance exists in my company, field organization, church, family, or community. Or, simply, a random person in the path right in front of me.

What I learned about real, undying, and unyielding acts of service from Mother Teresa were shared with me by herself in the 90’s, and re-stated this most recent trip by Father Abello, a priest involved in her cause who to this day—after many decades—spends time with the volunteers on a regular basis.

She shared with me and a few of the volunteers the following observations.

“You’re welcome here for two reasons”, she began.

“One, is the witness you can share. You come from a place that those staying at the Home of the Sick and Dying view as heaven. And, they feel they’re living in hell. So when you come from your heaven, to invest time and love with them in their hell, they must ask themselves the question ‘why would someone do this for me?’, when the world views them as worthless. The person that asks that question dies a very different death than the person who never gets to ask themselves that question.”

She continued, thoughtfully. 

“Two, you are welcome here because of the change that you can become. You are going back home to a place that we all know is not heaven; in fact, your people suffer as much of the loneliness and hopelessness as anybody. If this will make you a better person, help you find purpose, then you will have benefited tremendously, and you will have received a gift as a result of your service.”

As I flew the long journey home from too short a stay in Kolkata, I realized the impact of Mother Teresa’s words.

Ultimately, there are two gifts—what we give and what we receive—which comprise some of the characteristics of Servant Leadership. Often, we describe it in seemingly sterile adjectives or simple nuances like “be nice to your spouse” or “tell the truth”, important yet basic fundamentals that hardly address “Servant Leadership.” During this last trip I learned from the Sisters at the Missionaries of Charity and other volunteers there’s a much deeper meaning to a spirit of Service.

The opportunity we have to take small steps can change the world. We make an impact by sharing compassion and love — particularly with those who need it the most, and often these are the very ones who can’t or won’t reciprocate. It is therefore beyond just virtuosity, some would say its vital, that we support and nurture a culture where the dignity and respect of every individual — regardless of rank, title, money, or stature — is viewed as sacred.

Servant Leadership, I learned, might be a lot of things. And at times we might be tempted to think of Servant Leadership as even a few great things. However, Mother Teresa best summarized what I learned about Servant Leadership:

“There are no great things, only small things done with great love.”

Daya Dan Entrance, one of Mother Teresa's Orphanages for kids with mental or physical disabilities (most have both)

“One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody.”

-Mother Teresa

The street outside the Daya Dan orphanage

There’s a lifestyle component to our industry that sometimes we feel that we need in order to sell “the opportunity.” There’s nothing wrong with lifestyle; nice homes, comfortable cars, and exotic trips are all part of our industry at various times. There’s a balance, of course, but even Mother Teresa said, “There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste.”

But sometimes in our industry and in life, we sometimes border on the worship of lifestyle—corporately, in the field, or personally. This actually serves as a distraction from some of life’s greatest sources of meaning — and ultimately can lead to one of the greatest afflictions that exist: loneliness.

In Kolkata, there were children who were content, happy, and fulfilled. The others, in contrast, were destitute, forgotten, and lonely.

This is my little buddy Mongol's younger sister, she's 12 years old and is undoubtedly one of the best kids I have ever met; so happy, so precious, and sweet.

I’d like to suggest it was food or some cool toys or something more tangible and “fixable” that brightened a child’s disposition, but that just wasn’t so. Those children who were most happy experienced a level of love and attention that made them feel they had value. Worth. Significance. Using Mother Teresa’s expression, they were enjoying “being something to someone.”

Rank advancements, new enrollments, compliance and retention are all vital things. Without them, none of us have a viable and successful business, and independent associates don’t have a meaningful source of income.

Yet, I think we are tempted to look at advancement as the next source of meaning or the step that will spark true contentment. For others the draw might be something material, it might be a title, it might be experiential; but regardless of what “it” is, one thing I was sharply reminded of is that “it” is not the ticket to happiness.

The following post is part of my weeklong series “Lessons Learned from Mother Teresa” (read that post first). This excerpt is part two of the Direct Selling News article from March.  

This is the truck ride on the way to Dispensary duty, with Sister Nathaniel among others. There are a lot of things that aren't well communicated in pictures, but the smell and soot of Kolkata is one of them.

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”         -Mother Teresa

When you arrive in Kolkata, despair, more than anything else, greets you. There are an inordinate number of people that live on the streets, and there is an exceptionally difficult amount of poverty to absorb.  From the vantage point of an outsider, poverty—whether in India, North America, or elsewhere makes it relatively easy to pontificate solutions, point fingers at problematic fulcrums, and even become embattled in a bitter debate about political partisanship while sitting safely on the sidelines. I was reminded that it’s much more difficult – emotionally and physically – to actually do something about it.

Each bag represents a months worth of provisions--oil, biscuits, and wheat

Similarly, in other matters of life it’s sometimes hard to listen without making a judgment. Whether it’s financial troubles people are having (“and you bought what!?!?!?”) or leadership problems (“why would you say THAT?”) or emotional baggage (“okay, tell me again what exactly was it that happened at ten years ago that you’re still so rankled about?”), to simply listen, and love someone, is an exceptionally difficult thing for most of us to do. For some, it’s a God-given gift. Yet, I think for most of us, it’s a developing skill that takes effort as we experience both the need and the blessing that can arise from compassion and grace. It also needs to be coupled with honest accountability. Often we’re better with the judgment side of the ledger rather than the grace side — until, that is, it comes to ourselves.

This is the male side of the "Home of the Sick and Dying", essentially a hospice for the sickest of the sick.

Perhaps the greatest impact I experienced from my time at the Home of the Sick and Dying was to see, firsthand, the many patients in the home — some of whom were there as a result of their own circumstances — to be able to live their final days experiencing love and compassion.

Regardless of their past, their poverty, or their personalities, there was no judgment, no critique, no “rehab” program to get them restarted and on a life of significance and meaning. Behind the scenes, never a word was said among the Sisters or volunteers about what it was that led them to this final destination. They were there. It was home, and that’s all that mattered.

In my professional and personal life, there’s an easy carryover of this particular theme. Many people in my life are “home,” and how they got to this place doesn’t really matter.