Musings - KINETIC MOTIONS

April 29, 2025April 29, 2025

Practically Perfect in Every Way is not the Proper Path to Pursue

Perfect. Perfection. Flawless. Faultless. Absolute. Just right. There are so many ways to describe this term. I typed some prompts into my favourite GenAI tool, Claude, and here is some of what it described to me:

“A state of absolute or ideal condition where nothing can be improved upon.” If I pushed and offered some examples of context, I got everything from without flaws, like a perfect diamond, precisely accurate, like a perfect score, or something that is absolute like perfect silence.

But does a perfect solution or perfect technique ever exist? How much in life can really be absolute or flawless?

The concept of perfection has been in my mind a lot lately, and I’m very troubled by it. It represents an ideal that many people strive for, but do they ever achieve it? Is it even possible, or really is it something we think about, imagine, but we can’t get there?

We throw around the term, perfect, too easily. From the day we are born, we hear it spoken. How many newborns are described as perfect? Oh, the grandmother says, when she sees her new grandson for the first time, he’s perfect! How many little girls grow up to look up to a Disney princess or later a pop star, as these women are so often described as perfect?

When we encourage our kids to study for a test or complete an assignment, how often do you tell them (or how often were you ever told as a kid), to set a goal of 80-90%? Maybe you know they can’t achieve 100%, but unconsciously are you programmed to want them to get a perfect grade?

In our professional lives, the word perfect is bandied around all the time. Is there a perfect job you’d love to have? How many times have you tweaked your resume, hoping, that this time it will be perfect? Think about a presentation you have put together, with 10 drafts and hundreds of edits? Did you update it striving for a perfect deck?

Let’s talk about data and databases. It seems like life today is built on millions (okay probably more like billions or trillions) of pieces of data. We want the data to be accurate, right? You want the data to help you find patterns or tell a story. We know the saying, that garbage in means garbage out. That’s the other extreme. But can our data be perfect?

While I believe most of us understand that perfection is an abstract concept that pushes us to achieve a quality result, I know many people close to me – family and friends – whose obsession with achieving perfection means they have trouble realizing their goals and don’t accomplish what they set out to do.

Perfection may be abstract, but the work, or task, or project, that must be completed, is very concrete! The achievement of perfection, in most cases, is also quite subjective. How many times have you been asked, how would you measure success? Or you may be asked, what does success look like to you?

There is no single, absolute answer, and that’s due, in part, because, whether we admit it or not, so many people are striving for perfection. One person may accept that success is a measurable quality result, and the next person may perceive that unless they can achieve something absolute, they have failed.

Take a customer service call centre as an example, where many metrics are tracked, including NPS – net promoter scores. NPS measures a customer’s loyalty. It looks at how likely a customer is to recommend the business. The customer is surveyed with a question, and the response is reported from minus 100 to plus 100. But is a higher score desirable, or does a business really want their agents to achieve 100 as often as can be? Will any NPS survey realize a perfect score, of 100, across the board?

The scores will help guide the business on where it needs to improve or where it should continue doing great work. Realistically, it is not about achieving a perfect score. It’s about a focus on quality, which will lead to successful results.

But, what about the people who are stuck on perfection? From the interactions I have had with people like this, striving for perfection is not isolated. Time is usually abstract to them as well, as they miss or ignore deadlines. They may come across as stubborn or incredibly obstinate, as they feel success is measured by something absolute, and yes, flawless.

How do we work with a person (or report to, or manage) who wants perfection? When it’s a family member, how do we live them? Does it affect a friendship when one person is always seeking the perfect restaurant or activity?

I am not an expert, and clearly, I have more questions than answers. From my personal experience, here are some thoughts when interacting with the person who wants perfection:

Define what success looks like – find a happy medium, that is realistic. If the student thinks that only 100% on the test is what matters, then try to find a lower number (or series of numbers) where there can be reward and make them feel good. Make it measurable.
Structure – if they don’t understand time, then create rules. If your employee is pulling all-nighters, because they want to deliver you the perfect deck, you need to ask them to focus on completing a task, or series of tasks within a specific time frame. Create small, achievable goals, where the person can see how good quality builds on good quality.
Planning – I’ve been guilty of this one many times! If you want to help someone be successful, make a plan. If you want quality, then make a list of what it will take. Build a project plan with key milestones that should be achieved. Follow a recipe if you are baking a cake.
Patience – Take a deep breath. We are not all built the same way. What looks easy to you, may be incredibly hard for your friend. It’s easy for me to write almost anything, and I know what good work looks like. But I’ve worked with many people who spend hours poring over an email or speech, hoping if they make one more edit it will be perfect. Help them. Support them. Remind them they don’t have to be perfect!

Practically perfect in every way comes from the movie, Mary Poppins. Do you remember where she says this? It’s when she is “measuring” each child, and the tape measure shares this statement with her. Maybe she represents the ideal concept, and for sure she helped show the Banks family what a better, quality life is. But, really, is she perfect?

Is anything perfect?

April 17, 2025April 17, 2025

How do we keep our balance? Tradition.

How do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in a word….Tradition

Okay, maybe I’ve seen Fiddler on the Roof a few too many times (it’s a great book, play and movie. Suddenly I’m having flashbacks of playing Tzeitel as a teenager!). But it’s the key word, tradition, that I have been thinking about a lot lately. Maybe it’s the time of year, or maybe it’s the state of the world we live in.

As Tevye says in his opening monologue, “because of our traditions, we’ve kept our balance for many, many years.” Whether it’s a man speaking from his small village at the turn of the 20^th century, or me, living in Toronto in 2025, this statement is accurate. I think we all try to find balance in our lives, and embracing our traditions is important.

There are particular times of the year when many of the world’s religions celebrate holidays around the same time. In 2025, within a few weeks Muslims observed Ramadan, Christians will participate in Easter this coming weekend, and right now it is Passover for Jews. These are more than just religious events where people follow specific rituals. They are all steeped in tradition.

For me, over the past week, as I prepared for, then celebrated Passover, with my family and friends, so many memories flashed before my eyes. These memories gave me comfort, a lot of joy, and yes, even a bit of sadness.

Why do I turn my kitchen upside down? Did I really need to scrub that corner, of that drawer? What was I thinking when I decided to have a Passover set of everything from plates to cutlery to pots and pans? Does schlepping boxes up and down the stairs, over and over, count towards my daily fitness goals?

My Passover Seder table, set by my daughter and her friends this year, was covered in stories of our family and its history. There were papier mâché Seder plates, strangely constructed cups, matzo covers, placemats, something one could call art, plastic animals and more, scattered across the table.

The food was an eclectic mix of old and new. We had everything from my famous “mother-in-law” chicken soup, that my mother-in-law taught me how to make when I got married years ago, to a lemon roast chicken recipe I found using a Google search to sumptuous meatballs, from an Italian recipe! We dipped parsley in salt water, ate bitter herbs (I used endives this year!), and some people made a valiant effort to drink four cups of wine.

We went around the table and read, we hastily flew through some songs as we hungrily approached dinner, and we belted out, with assigned characters and silliness, the final song of the night.

Why did we do this? I can tell you in one word….

Tradition.

Okay, so that’s one very specific example. Holidays bring out some of our closest, and sometimes, craziest traditions. I’m not sure if singing about a goat who was eaten by a cat who was hit by a dog…. Or consuming inordinate amounts of “unleavened” bread helps us keep our balance, but I do believe that the essence of them does.

Whether it’s a tradition associated with a holiday, like Passover, Ramadan or Easter, or anything else in your life, it keeps you centered. It reminds you that there is more to life than getting ready for the big presentation at work, or maybe getting that job promotion.

Most of us lead very busy lives, in our modern and very demanding world. We rush from one task to another. We have welcomed tools like AI or automation to enable us. But our traditions – they make us slow down a bit. They help us reflect on where we came from, the people who have helped us along the way, and the memories of those we miss most.

Some of our best traditions don’t have to be connected to a religion or culture. They may exist amongst friends, family or even colleagues. For example, at a previous job, I built up a tradition with a colleague (who is now a very good friend!) of taking regular walking breaks and specifically circling the garbage cans to get extra steps.

After we had established our walking pattern, we just had to say, “are you ready for a garbage can break,” to know that one of us was stressed and needed the other person to come walking. I could call her right now and mention the garbage can break, and she will smile – and she will join me for a walk.

Maybe it’s a summer camp tradition, or a family vacation, or certain words you use that have a special meaning to specific people (my mother knows what Kogel is and my husband’s extended family will smile when someone mentions a fake-o sunset). Our traditions make us pause and think of the people with whom we are connected.

So, the next time you see a friend from university and sing the song you made up when you studied for that nasty physics final exam, or you are cooking the dish your grandmother taught you years ago, smile. Take a pause. Remember that your traditions have helped bring you balance.

April 7, 2025April 7, 2025

21 Degrees Celsius is Divine

Last Thursday it was 21 degrees Celsius in Toronto. If you live in a warm place, like Miami or Manila, you may be wondering what is so significant about this temperature? Why does 21 degrees Celsius, on April 3^rd, matter? This year, it meant a lot. Read on to find out why.

The weather, where I live, in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, may be the most popular topic of conversation – ahead of even traffic congestion, or gasp, hockey! It determines, whether you pay attention or not, so much of what you can do or how you live your life. It’s ever changing and often unpredictable. Especially in April.

In the last couple of weeks I’ve seen snow falling and accumulating, as the temperature dipped below freezing. Then there’s the freezing rain that turned the snow to slush (and north of the city left a destructive trail of power outages and downed trees). That was followed by the sunny day, at 21 degrees, followed by a huge temperature drop, down to below freezing, up and down again, and what, there’s snow in the forecast tomorrow?

We can make a joke about it, and yes, we can (and do), discuss our up and down roller coaster weather we experience in much of Canada. But I’m still stuck on the 21 degree day last week.

It was Thursday afternoon, around 4:30 pm, when, with my dog, I walked my daughter to her weekly piano lesson. It’s an 8 minute walk from our house, but during the cold and dark winter months it’s usually easier to drive. 21 degrees, blue sky and beautiful sunshine meant we had to walk.

The world had come alive outside my door. Again, if you live in a place that’s always hot, like Bangkok or Phoenix, you may be a bit confused. But let me explain. While we do enjoy some wonderful outdoor winter sports here, we don’t typically lounge on patios or take a leisurely stroll, in shorts, even in early April.

The winter can be harsh, dark and cold. This particular winter had it all, with the usual early darkness, that was followed by many grey days that were frigid and snowy. It can be cozy to stay indoors, but this winter, I found that days of darkness and bad weather really got to me. And I don’t think I’m alone to feel that.

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) is a real thing. While some people experience a deep clinical depression and need to seek mental health support, I believe that most of us are generally affected by the decrease in sunlight, coupled with the cold and snow.

I craved sunlight this winter. I desperately wanted the temperature to move up. By March, for sure I had enough of the snow. And I say this as someone who loves winter sports and semi successfully tried a new one this year (yes, I can snowboard now – not well, but I can do it!). A 21-degree day in early April, with a magnificent blue sky and loads of sunlight, was exactly what I needed.

And so did everyone else around me.

As we walked from my house to the piano lesson, I looked around at the people who were also enjoying the outdoors. The first thing I noticed was how many people were out. And the closer I walked towards the major street that we had to cross, the more people we passed.

It was almost like a scene from Pleasantville. Children were zooming around on their bikes, in shorts and t-shirts, dogs were happily smelling the grass (and each other), and adults strolled along the sidewalk, waving hello and stopping to chat.

The light breeze was warm and inviting. It just felt so good. Maybe I experience this every spring, on the first warm day. But somehow this one felt different. I didn’t realize just how much I needed the sun and warmer temperature. I wanted to stay outside and experience every moment.

As the sun went down Thursday evening, the temperature dropped back down to more seasonal levels. By the weekend the temperature hovered at about 0 degrees Celsius, with a constant drizzle. It was…. Depressing. It took all my energy to do anything this weekend. As I looked out my window on Saturday afternoon, my street was empty again and everyone hid indoors.

Would the sun come out again? Would we see another 20-degree day?

Many of us are fortunate in Canada to live a very high quality life. I never take for granted that I live in (while not perfect) a democracy, with decent (again not perfect) healthcare and educational system. My kids can grow up to be anything they want to be. But, it’s also cold and dark here for a good chunk of the year!

I don’t hate the climate I live in, but this winter, wow, it really challenged me. Maybe I’m getting older and crankier. Maybe my life has changed and I’m questioning things that I accepted before. Or maybe it was so dark and so cold this winter that I just had enough!

21 degrees, with brilliant sunshine, was divine. I’m ready for more of that.

March 13, 2025March 13, 2025

Reflections from a Gracie Abrams Concert

If you find yourself out, if there is a right time
Chances are I’ll be here, we could share a lifeline
If you feel like fallin’, catch me on the way down
Never been less empty, all I feel is free now
If you find yourself out, if there is a right time
Chances are I’ll be here, we could share a lifeline
If you feel like fallin’, catch me on the way down
Never been less empty, all I feel is free now

Do you recognize the song? Just reading the first words, are you already singing? Are you starting to move around wildly, belting out this chorus? Are you a fan?

If you are a regular reader here at Kinetic Motions, you may not know the song, or the artist, and that’s okay. It’s written and performed by Gracie Abrams, who arrived on the music scene the last few years. From posting video snippets on her Instagram account during a long COVID lockdown, to touring with Taylor Swift, she’s come a long way.

I went to my first Gracie Abrams concert a few weeks ago. As I stood there, surrounded by thousands of (mainly) young, screaming teenage girls, I knew I had to write about it!

I have been to my fair share of concerts over the years. I wouldn’t consider myself an aficionado at all, and my knowledge of the music industry and the most hip artists is definitely limited. Without hesitation, the best concert I ever attended (many years ago) was the Billy Joel and Elton John, Face to Face tour.

Their pianos, and their extraordinary talent, faced off on the stage of Toronto’s Skydome, and my friend and I sang and danced for hours. At a concert like that, you are supposed to stand up, sing, move around and have a great time. Right?

Okay, back to Gracie, as my daughter calls her…

I took my daughter, Julia, on a special trip, to Paris and Amsterdam, in the middle of February. There were so many reasons for this trip – spend quality time with my daughter, I needed to get away from life’s day-to-day demands, and to visit the most wonderful friends who live in Amsterdam.

The fact that Gracie Abrams was performing in Amsterdam, at the Ziggo Dome, on Monday, February 17^th, was a coincidence. Of course Julia wanted to go. Of course I said no. And yes, of course I gave in when she found “reasonably” priced tickets. And “in the Golden Circle” she told me.

Did I know what the Golden Circle was? Did I fully realize what I was getting myself into when I agreed to buy four tickets (so I could take our friends’ kids too) to this special section at the concert? Let me describe the evening….

But first, the preparation. We arrived in Amsterdam on Friday, February 14^th. By Saturday morning, the girls had to go downtown, to find yellow (or blue?) clothes, matching ribbons and other must-have accessories. I assume anyone in the know understands why, but I still have no idea. The girls were determined, and yes, they were successful.

By Monday afternoon, hours before the concert, the kids had to carefully get ready. Into the bedroom they went, shut the door and primped for the big night. Julia appeared first, paranoid that we had to arrive at the venue hours before the doors would open so we could get a good spot.

Good spot, I wondered. Why? It’s a concert. I have a ticket for an exclusive area. How many people could actually be in this area?

Oh, did I mention that the Golden Circle was a standing section? No chairs, no stools. I had some understanding these tickets gave us access to the area in front of the stage, but my ignorant (clearly not intelligent) adult self still, by Monday afternoon, did not realize what I got myself into.

Julia arrived at the venue ahead of us, to get in the specially designated line for the Golden Circle. Again, I had figured this was for maybe two hundred people, and we could arrive an hour before the doors opened to secure a good spot. Oh, was I wrong.

As we approached the sprawling Ziggo Dome complex, we saw a sea of people. Thousands and thousands of young Dutch girls, all dressed up, with ribbons in their hair, pushing their way into their designated lines.

Two hundred in our exclusive section? Try two thousand. It was a mob scene. Wall-to-wall people in the cordoned off Golden Circle line. When the doors finally opened, we made our way in, strapped on our special bracelets and found our spot in that exclusive section in front of the stage. Surrounded by the two thousand others, and thousands more behind us.

It was a great concert. I’m not 14 years old, or 18, or 22, but even at my age, I can appreciate good music. Gracie Abrams is a great performer. I felt she was even humble and thankful for her fans. She smiled and she connected with her audience.

A few weeks later, I can reflect and share a few of my takeaways:

The standing room section is not a good choice if you are over 40 years old

I am not designed to stand up like that, for hours, at a concert. I am also clearly not bright enough to have asked my daughter more questions when she discovered this – what she described as – well-priced section. Two thousand people crammed together standing for hours is a great choice if you are 14 or 22. Not my age!

Women in the Netherlands are tall

I am not going to win any height awards anytime soon, nor is my daughter. If I stand with good posture, I’m lucky if I’m even 5 feet, two inches. Julia may be able to say she’s five feet tall if she poofs up her hair.

Did you know that the Netherlands leads the world with, on average, the tallest women? The average height of an adult Dutch woman is about 5 feet 7 inches. From my very unscientific assessment, the average height of a Dutch woman in the Golden Circle at a Gracie Abrams concert is more like 6 feet. I have never felt so short in my life. I was only maybe 15 feet from the raised stage, but I could rarely see. I felt more like a toddler in a room full of adults. Wow, are they ever tall.

17,000 young females screaming all at once can break the sound barrier

When you attend most concerts, the music is loud. You know what to expect when you walk into a huge arena. The music is not going to be soft and gentle. It’s going to be cranked to the max. People are going to sing and cheer. Okay, I even expected some screaming.

And then, when Gracie came on stage, they all screamed at once. When over 17,000 people, most of whom are these tall, happy, excited young women, using their highest pitch possible, scream, all at once, it is deafening. My ear drums were ringing. The building shook. As each new song started, they screamed. During the chorus, they screamed. When each song ended, they screamed. Happy joyous screams, but wow. I didn’t know that was possible. Until that night.

The modern teen enjoys a concert through their smartphone

At one point during the concert I looked up, and I think I was the only person not holding up a smartphone to record the song Gracie was singing. Everyone around me held their phone high, focused, with the bright red record button going, to capture the moment – on video. I stood there, my arms folded, enjoying the music, and I started to laugh. I may have been the only person around me watching Gracie perform with my own eyes, not my smartphone.

Okay, I get it. They wanted to record the moment and play it back over and over. Or to post it to their social media feed. Or to show their friends later. I admit, there were a few times I pulled out my phone to record (or to FaceTime with Nessa in Toronto, so she could experience it too). It just seemed to me that so many of them missed out on experiencing the live music properly. I stood there and closed my eyes a few times, just to listen (or possibly to ponder how I was still standing after hours or hoping I could get my hearing back later).

I will probably do this again

Okay, so I was a bit crazy to go to this concert, or to sort of blindly buy tickets in the crowded standing-room only section. But did I have a great time? Yes. Did Julia have a night, with her friends, that she will remember forever? Definitely! Does the pitch of the excited shrieking girls still ring in my ears? Yep.

I don’t know how soon I want to attend another concert of that size or that kind of hype. The pressure, especially it seems for teens and young girls, to feel they have to get a ticket to a concert for the current superstars, seems overwhelming. Gracie Abrams, and for sure, Taylor Swift, are positive role models for my daughters. They are smart women who work hard and encourage their fans to do great things. But the price of a ticket to their shows? Gasp!

Julia and I have tickets to a much smaller-scale concert coming up in May – to a relatively newer guy on the scene, Alex Warren. I think this concert may be standing room only for everyone, but based on the venue, it should be tame. Or maybe it won’t be. It will definitely be an experience I can write about!

February 24, 2025February 24, 2025

Do Something: Please, Yarden Bibas is Asking

“Make sure the entire world knows how brutally my children were slaughtered.”

These are the words of Yarden Bibas, the father of Ariel and Kfir and husband of Shiri – may their memory be a blessing. Never mind that Yarden had to endure almost 500 days in captivity, held by terrorists and fearing for his own life every moment, this week he must bury his children and his wife.

I have started to write this post, then stop, then start again, then think about it, for almost one week. I knew I needed to do something. I needed to listen to Yarden Bibas, it’s the least I can do for him. He asked everyone – share his family’s story, through photos, words, videos, anything, so that the world knows what happened to his beautiful family – that they were murdered.

I reread the blog I wrote on November 5^th, 2023, after I learned the story of a mother who watched her 18-year-old daughter, Maayan, die in front of her eyes. Her daughter was shot and killed by terrorists, in their home, on October 7^th 2023. Her husband, Tsachi, was taken captive by Hamas terrorists, and it is believed, as of the writing of this post, that he is not alive. This family, like many others, is waiting for him to return from Gaza, in a coffin.

I will repeat now what I felt then and what I have always felt: it doesn’t matter what your politics are, your religion, or nationality, race, or ethnicity – intentionally murdering someone, especially a child – is revolting. It’s inhumane and repulsive and repugnant. Forensic reports from the Bibas children’s murders showed evidence of indescribable abuse, of killing these little children with a terrorist’s bare hands.

These children saw, with their own little eyes, their murderers. They first endured weeks of torture, before they were killed.

It is rare for me to use this space to share something like this, that is so disturbing. Your first thought may be to turn away and not read. You may disagree with me that what I am writing about is controversial, or is inappropriate. As you read this, you may ask yourself if you really know me at all, as a person, as a writer or as a professional.

I ask you to please keep reading. I strongly believe that it is through education, reading, and conversations that we can be better people, who respect our differences and celebrate our similarities.

I want to share a little bit about the Bibas family, who lived in a small, simple, one-story house in Kibbutz Nir Oz, near the border with Gaza. Shiri was a teacher and Yarden a welder, and they chose to marry and raise their family in this tight-knit special community, where Shiri grew up. Their elder son, Ariel, with his flaming red hair, was a typical active, bubbly four-year-old, who loved Batman. Their younger son, Kfir, was a laid back, smiley and wonderful baby, and he also had his mother’s beautiful red hair.

Look at this family. Look at their faces and their smiles. Every one of us can see ourselves in them – if you are a parent, an aunt or uncle, cousin, sibling or friend. Maybe it’s the red hair? Or you see brothers, or a young family? Their connection to a small community?

We need to connect with the Bibas family, and see the humanity – or lack of – in what happened to them. It does not mean we dismiss the stories of many other children who have been murdered or injured (physically or emotionally) in the last 16 plus months, but today, I’m asking you to think of, and like me, do something, to remember Ariel and Kfir.

I’m shaking as I write today. I have been listening to podcasts and reading various snippets of news or social media posts about the Bibas family. The images of their smiling faces are seared into my brain. The images were from another time, when maybe they thought they were safe. Or maybe Yarden and Shiri knew that maybe they weren’t safe, but still every day, like every parent, they brought joy and warmth to their home. They, like every parent, hoped to raise their children to be everything they wanted to be and live a successful life.

But that will not happen. Instead, Ariel and Kfir, along with their mother, Shiri, will be buried this week. So now, I’m asking you, please, do something. Share my post. Read or listen to a story about the Bibas family. Or just pause and think about them for a moment. Do something.

February 10, 2025February 10, 2025

Bagels, Balance and Baseball

Who am I? What are my interests? How do I define myself? These are questions we’ve all asked ourselves – or we’ve been asked in interviews or conferences or team meetings. Using a bit of alliteration, and maybe a bit of creativity, I thought about this recently and came up with: I’m all about bagels, balance and baseball. I hope I made you giggle a bit, or maybe you are thinking of a letter of the alphabet that you can choose to find words that describe you. Let me explain.

Sometimes, late at night, or I admit, even in the middle of the night, I have a sudden idea of a topic I want to write about. I have a notes folder in my phone where I jot down blog ideas, so that if something comes upon me I can note it before the idea fizzles away by the morning. When I read some of the notes the next day, some make perfect sense and others are pure nonsense.

Bagels, balance and baseball sits somewhere in between. I don’t know why these words came into my head late at night recently, but I jotted them down. Maybe I was listening to the news, or I read it on social media, or maybe my husband mentioned something to me. I jotted other notes after the three words, and those made no sense.

But I can’t get these three words out of my head. While I am not defined by bagels, balance or baseball, they do help tell my story. They are key words that help me share a bit about me as a person, beyond my professional persona.

Bagels

This single word says a lot about me. First of all, I love bagels – Montreal bagels to be exact. My parents and grandparents were all born and raised in Montreal, where the humble bagel is a staple of the diet. The bagel dates back, in many forms, to Poland, and it was brought to North America by Jewish immigrants – first to New York, but then beyond, to places like Montreal.

So, the bagel connects me with a humble food that I love, to my Jewish heritage, and my love of baking (and cooking too!). I love to explore my creativity in the kitchen. I like to take an interesting recipe and do my version of it – add an ingredient, take other ingredients away or play with the ratios. I love making challah, and lately, I’ve been experimenting with different kinds of muffins. The latest one I’m intrigued with is caramel swirl!

Balance

This one is a bit more abstract, but stay with me here – it will make sense. I have always wanted to find balance in my life – to make sure I prioritize what matters but to also find time and space to destress. Whether it was in school or my career, I was always all in. I have always taken responsibility seriously, pushing myself so hard sometimes that I either disregarded what else mattered or I tried to do too much that I was not successful.

I could lean on the clichés like “you can’t do it all” or everyone needs a “work-life balance,” but that doesn’t work for me. Right now I am focused on understanding how to honour and respect all the different parts of my life – professionally and personally. Too much of anything isn’t good for anyone. My family needs me more than ever. I need to pursue career ambitions and take some risk. There has to be time for me, to just be a person and do things I love. So, have I found balance yet? No. But I’m trying. I’m really trying.

Baseball

This one is easy. I have loved baseball since the first Blue Jays’ game I went to, at the old Exhibition stadium, when I was a kid. It’s the right pace for me, it has so many twists and turns, and as a mother, it’s one of the ways I’ve connected with my son.

I’m quite sure my love of baseball was one reason I stood up in grade 11 chemistry and announced I wanted to pursue a career in sports media. I even lived that dream for a short time in my first job in radio, when I filled in as the station’s baseball reporter.

I don’t play baseball (isn’t often said that those who can’t play… teach or write?!), but it’s a passion of mine, that connects my professional and personal life. It may, one day be the focus of my son’s professional life, and as a sport with its special twists and turns, maybe it will always be part of my life in ways I don’t even know yet.

So, maybe baseball isn’t so easy. Yes, I love this sport, but it also makes me think of my love of skiing, and now, yikes, even snowboarding (yes, I promise to write more on that journey soon!). I’ve even taken up yoga, which actually fits nicely into the “balance” area. Yoga forces me to slow down, to focus on my breathing, and sometimes on trying to stand on one foot. I highly recommend it.

Bagels, balance and baseball are not descriptive of everything about me. If you have read Kinetic Motions, you know there’s more to me than these three words. But it’s been a good exercise, to think a bit about who I am and what matters. Take a moment to do the same. I promise you, it’s worth it.

January 28, 2025January 28, 2025

Why January 27th Matters

On Sunday, January 27^th, 1946, my paternal grandparents got married. Born and raised in Montreal, they grew up in post-World War 1 Canada, with the highs of the early 1920’s and lows of the Depression in the 1930’s. My grandfather served in the military during World War 2, as a member of the Canadian Air Force to protect the coast of Newfoundland.

My grandparents shared many stories with me about life in Canada during World War 2, a little about their courtship and some details about their wedding on January 27^th, 1946. They were married mere months after the end of the war, when the world was recovering from such devastation.

I never asked my grandparents why they chose that specific date for their wedding. January 27^th, 1946, was the one-year anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the Nazi death camp in Europe. In 1946, commemoration, memorialization, reflection for many, about the atrocities in Europe, wasn’t, for the most part, done.

For my grandparents, January 27^th, 1946 must have been a joyous day, with family, friends, music, dancing and celebration. The war was over and the future was bright for them, in their tight-knit community in Montreal.

Seventy-nine years later, my grandparents are no longer alive, but I quietly celebrate them every January 27^th. What they had was true love. I remember how my grandfather (we called him Poppy) always looked so lovingly at my grandmother (we called her Nanny). For my family, January 27^th is special.

But, also in my head is January 27^th, 1945. That was the day when Soviet forces liberated the Auschwitz death camp. Over 1.1 million people were murdered there, most (but not all) of them, Jews. Some people may feel that liberation is a reason to celebrate. Because the death camp was liberated, does it mean the people there were free? Did they feel they had a future? Were they excited about going home, or building a new life?

For those who survived after the Auschwitz liberation, it took many years for many of them to settle in a new home. While maybe January 27^th, 1945, was the start of their liberation, one year later, most of the survivors were still struggling to survive. Communities in Montreal, Canada were far away.

Is it fair of me to even ask, did my grandparents know? When they set their wedding date, did they know it was on the first anniversary of the liberation of what may be the most infamous of the Nazi death camps? Did they understand, in 1946, what happened to the Jews of Europe? Why does it matter what date they got married?

I’ve been asking myself these questions over the last 24 hours, as world leaders, educators, historians, and even some survivors, gathered together on January 27^th, 2025, at Auschwitz, to commemorate the 80^thanniversary of the death camp’s liberation. I have been poring through many news articles, from journalists pointing out hypocrisy to offering history lessons to stories of survival and renewal.

The thread across everything I read is: we must remember. We must talk. We must educate and share and learn and listen. January 27^th matters. Eighty years after the liberation, with so few people left to tell us what they experienced, we need to keep their stories alive. It is horrific to think that at one death camp, over 1.1 million people were brutally murdered. When it was liberated, on January 27^th, 1945, it is estimated that about 7,000 were found alive.

These are people, with names, families, and stories. Yesterday I read about Tova Friedman, who sees the liberation day as her birthday. Leon Weintraub spoke of still seeing the Nazi symbol in Europe today and how important it is to never let this kind of murder happen again. Learn about George Reinitz or Miriam Ziegler. Listen to 96-year-old Howard Chandler.

I have visited Auschwitz. I joined thousands of teenagers, when I was just 15 years old, on Holocaust Remembrance Day, as we walked between the labour and death camps of the massive complex. I walked under the gate that stated, “Work makes you free.” I saw huge mounds of hair, shoes, clothes, passports and more. I sat with survivors who told me their stories.

When I stood at Auschwitz, so many years ago, and I hugged survivors and cried with my friends, I remember thinking about my grandparents. I remember thinking how lucky they were to be born in Canada, that they didn’t have to experience this horror. I also remember thinking that I could never forget how I felt that day.

January 27^th matters. Maybe it is a day of celebration. Maybe the people liberated in 1945 didn’t know it at the time, but for many it was the start of a new life for them. One year later, on January 27^th, 1946, it was also the start of a new life for my grandparents. For all those no longer with us to tell their story, may their memory be for a blessing.

January 16, 2025

People first, enabled by technology

Earlier this week I caught up with a former colleague, who had left the corporate world and started his own business. It was great to see him again, and our conversation was warm and friendly. While we discussed his new, and growing business, the journalist in me asked him directly, what do you do? It’s not that the services he offers aren’t interesting, I wanted to get to the heart of why he’s doing what he is doing and the impact he hopes for.

What he shared didn’t surprise me at all. His business is about people. He and his business partners are focused on helping people. They recognized that technology is changing, our reliance on it is growing, often exponentially, but people’s grasp of that technology or their embrace of it, is much slower.

As I listened to him, I started to think that as technology plays a larger role in our lives, that we can’t discount the importance of people and our desire to connect and lean on each other.

I admit that while I, like most of us, heavily rely on technology, I still have so much to learn about how to use it. For example, I have only scratched the surface of AI and how it can help me, as a writer, or how to produce simple videos, and so much more! I have played around with social media and actively use it, but I’m not an expert.

There’s automation, apps, software, hardware, programming, development and so much more related to technology. It’s everywhere, and savvy people have found ways to harness its power. I’m committed to learning more about how technology will help me, both personally and professionally.

But technology alone is not enough. Not only that, I have observed that as we lean more on technology tools, from our smart phones and tablets to AI and social media, many of us crave the human touch. We don’t want to become automatons, and we don’t want to stare at a screen all day.

The art of what human beings can achieve is not just lingering, it’s as strong as ever. Live theatre, for example, whether it’s Broadway or a small community production, is thriving. Swifties of the world don’t just want to listen to their music on iTunes – they want to see Taylor Swift, live. Baseball stadiums or hockey arenas are packed. We pay good money to be in person, to watch the best of the best perform.

Plays, concerts and sports have been around for a long time, and they bring us together, as people. The “show” that we watch, live, in front of our eyes, is now enabled by technology, but what brings us there is the experience.

Have you read a good book lately? No doubt, I could easily use ChatGPT or another AI tool, put in a query, and moments later it can give me a book. It will be written well, clean grammar, maybe even some interesting parts. But it’s not personal. It was not written by me. It may not tell the story I want people to know.

When a writer tells a story, they hope for a visceral reaction from the reader. A great story pulls at our emotions. It’s an art, and it’s something deeply human. Technology has enabled writers to be more efficient – a computer is quicker than the typewriter was. AI tools can help enhance a story, and spellcheck? I mean really, many of us love that it catches so many errors!

Back to what my former colleague shared with me about his focus on people. His clients, who are businesses of all sizes, are purchasing tools or products from other businesses. Their learning curve, to implement and use the technology, is often steep. The clients seek out the human touch, to teach and guide them and empower their employees to feel confident in the technology.

While technology, in all its forms – the car, machinery in factories, the washing machine, computers, cell phones, and more – will continue to change our lives, what won’t change are our human connections and desire for them. There are some careers or jobs that don’t exist at all anymore, but others have evolved. I believe that professions that help bring people together, will always be part of our society – a restauranteur, musicians, artists, athletes, and yes even writers.

And don’t discount nurses, dentists, doctors or lawyers. Technology has enabled us to benefit from these professionals in new ways, but their personal knowledge and expertise will always be invaluable.

People and technology work hand in hand. When individuals, and to take it further, organizations, embrace first their people, and enable them with the right technology, they will thrive.

January 8, 2025

Introvert or Extravert: or can you be both?

Earlier this week, Justin Trudeau, the Prime Minister of Canada, announced that he will resign as the leader of the Liberal party, and of course as the Prime Minister. I am not going to use this space to weigh in on politics or express my opinion on our current Prime Minister. I read many articles and listened to even more interviews about Trudeau, the person, and I was struck by one particular theme running through the analyses: whether he is an introvert or extravert, or maybe a mix of both.

The more articles I read, in particular, Susan Delacourt’s excellent opinion piece in the Toronto Star, the more I looked inward. I reflected on how others see me, and how I view myself.

Society has created a rather defined idea of what an introvert or extravert is. When I searched for introvert, I found descriptive terms such as reserved, quiet, often shy, introspective, and prefers to be alone. I read that an introvert needs to expend quite a bit of energy to survive and thrive in social situations.

Then there is the extravert. This person may be defined as outgoing, sociable, high energy, talkative or even outspoken. They gain energy from social interaction, and this is interesting, they may be more concerned with external reality than inner feelings.

These definitions seem harsh to me, and I think we quickly judge people and place them into one of the two camps: introvert or extravert. If someone is a bit loud, or gregarious, in a group setting, we point and say they are an extravert. But, maybe all the talking is really just a façade for a person who feels anxious in the group, who is working extra hard to please everyone. Maybe, once you get to know this person, you realize they are extraordinarily shy and they over compensated, just to try to fit in.

Then there is the quiet member of the group. They don’t say much, and they sit off to the side. We assume this person is an introvert and is unable to “get out of their shell.” But maybe it’s situational. Maybe in the right place, with the right people, that person is chatty and outgoing and in the centre of the action.

As I read, and now as I write, I really can’t place myself on either side of the debate. If you have interacted with me at work, I am sure most people wouldn’t hesitate to say that I’m an extravert. I’m talkative and usually very outgoing and sociable. I’ve always been the person to raise my hand to participate in something new, and the more I invest, the more energy I gain.

I’ve been described as passionate, tenacious, with a can-do attitude. But I work hard at that. Like an introvert, I expend a lot of energy in social situations (in my career and personal life). I’m actually a natural home-body, and no matter what I do, I’m a planner. I think about all the steps I need to take to accomplish anything, even if it’s just to drive to the grocery store for milk and eggs. I think carefully about the route I drive to any destination, and I work backwards in my timing when I need to complete a task. I feel instant anxiety when I am not prepared or lose control of a situation.

What does this have to do with whether or not I’m an introvert or extravert? Well, I work hard, and I carefully plan, how, even why, I’m talkative or outgoing in a group. I think about the people with whom I will interact and how I must carry myself. I’m quite chatty among my peers, offering suggestions and sometimes a strong opinion. If I’m in a room with people who may be more senior than me, or more experienced, I’m quieter. I listen more, and while what I say will always be genuine and honest, I will say less.

It doesn’t mean that I’m not thinking and planning out every moment. And depending on the formality of the situation, I may loosen up! If I know the group well, I will speak more, be a bit louder and take in the energy of my surroundings. Put me in a space where I feel intimidated, like a party where I only know a few people or a networking event when I know I need to interact with key individuals, I’m nervous. I will even go as far to say that I’m often anxious. My inner introvert may take over and convince me that I don’t belong or that staying quiet is the better course of action.

I don’t think I’m unique. I think most of us are a mix of introvert and extravert, but it’s not necessarily balanced 50/50. Human beings are complex, and we display many different behaviours or traits, depending on the situation or the people we are with.

That’s true of Canada’s Prime Minister, many multi-national CEO’s, celebrities, professionals, skilled labourers, and yes, me. Social interactions are hard, no matter how a person is defined. It’s easier to stay home, be alone, read a book or watch TV than it is to put yourself out there in the world.

This blog, Kinetic Motions, is one of the ways I put myself out there. Writing is freeing for me, where I’m comfortable and happy. But it doesn’t mean I won’t continue to work hard at being the best version of me, as introvert or an extravert.

January 3, 2025

Don’t Let the Light Go Out

As I began to write this, it was the last day of Chanukah. It was January 2^nd, 2025, or on the Jewish Calendar, the 2^nd of Tevet, 5785. As we lit the candles on Wednesday night, our Chanukiah shone bright with its nine candles. I stayed back after others walked away and stared at the candles, as they began to melt.

There was something warm and wonderful in the light of the candles, and as they melted, and finally fizzled out, their light quickly turned to darkness. The light of the nine bright candles on the Chanukiah, followed by the dark when they were gone, felt like a metaphor of our world right now.

Are we living in a Dark time right now? Will history remember the early part of the 21^st century as a harsh time in history? I feel like one person after the next, when I ask them about their feelings, or hopes for 2025, give me the same answer: “Well, I hope it’s better than 2024.” Or, “The world has to gone to hell, it just has to get better than this.”

Whether it is a personal pain, challenges in a community or an existential threat of a nation or a group, it’s hard to find to many areas of light in the last five years for so many people.

It’s like the light is going out in the world. I recently wrote about that wonderful feeling at the start of a new day, and how it brings possibility. I felt the same this past week as we lit the Chanukiah each night. On the first night, there was just a bit of light, with two candles (the “shamash” or helper candle, and the first candle). Each night we added a candle, and with that, more light. It was small, but I felt a greater sense of optimism and hope each night, as our candelabra grew brighter.

The bright candles made me think about how I, or any individual, can help make sure we don’t let the light go out. While the candles melted and fizzled out each night, each additional candle gave more light, and together the candles gave off a beautiful glow.

But, no matter how hard I tried to think about the light, the darkness was there too. I didn’t have to look too far to see the darkness working hard to overtake the light, to suppress it and make it fizzle, like the candles.

The problem is, darkness is easier than light. It’s so much simpler to break something than fix it. Try to stop. No problem. But to start again – much harder.

It takes a lot of work to make light, not just for a candle or a lamp. For many people, it takes a lot of work to be happy and find joy. A fight may happen quickly, but it can time, work, and a lot of patience, to come to a compromise or make up.

Is that why it seems so dark in the world right now? Are we letting ourselves fall into anger and fighting, and we won’t let the light in, to bring calm and joy? How is there so much hate? Does every generation say this, or is the darkness particularly bad right now, and getting worse?

I keep thinking back to how I felt, when the room was bathed in light a couple days ago, by the nine candles of the Chnaukiah. It’s a similar feeling to seeing the colourful bulbs of a Christmas tree or the diyas (small oil lamps) that may line a walkway on Diwali. They all bring light to the darkness.

The light brings people together, and I really believe it has the potential to make good things happen. Think of the Olympic flame, which shines bright over the iconic games. Thousands of athletes, from diverse cultures and races, for the most part, put controversies or disagreements aside to share in the joy of sport. And overtop, especially at night, is that beautiful flame, reminding everyone that with light comes optimism and joy. It pushes us to do good things.

So, we can’t light Chanukah candles every night (though my kids would love that, as that means a gift every night of the year!). But, metaphorically, we also can’t let the light go out. We need to imprint that light in our heads, remember that wonderful feeling of the warmth of the glow around us, when the candles are burning bright.

We need to wrap our arms around the light, and together, we need to make it easier to live in a world with light than darkness. I want 2025 to be better than 2024. Let’s release some of that anger and hate. Let’s try to bring a bit of peace to the world. Let’s give people a chance to succeed and thrive.

We can do it. Just don’t let the light go out.