My sister says that her phone is her transitional object. My mom is quite connected to her phone too! That's why it was such a trauma to have lost it at Schiphol last week. What happened next demonstrates where customer service could have been better (yes, this is an understatement). This morning I got an email (one week later) saying that the phone had not been found. Very sad? But what is that my mom is holding? It does look like her phone, doesn't it? This picture was taken last Wednesday...
Intrigued? Read on... But before you do - I want to take a quick survey: When you lose your phone, how do you feel?

So, here's what happened to us: Read about it on my Studyleaks blog.

Then, if you also think your customer service department could use some help, let me know!

Before I rushed off to attend a wonderful Creativity Workshop early this morning, I perused my inbox and was pulled to read an article on 'The School of Life' website explaining what the fascination is that we have with tragedy.  According to the article, we are attracted to these things because they make us realize how important it is to prioritize our own lives, how important it is to live this day as if it’s our last.

When we suddenly get that reality check – and start writing up our own Bucket List of things we want to do before we die - we can step back from the petty day-to-day things that we tend to get caught up in – Who left the dirty cup in the sink? Why did I miss my favorite TV show, or Oh no, I’m stuck in traffic on the way to work.

People at work (oops, that's most of humankind) also often tend to lose their focus on the bigger picture, and we all, especially people who feel responsible, begin to obsess about what they ‘have to’ do. This can lead to fighting for territory, making sure to retain control over that area, and losing sight of the critical path that the company as a whole has to take, in order to survive and thrive.

* * *

For me, the Bucket List and the Critical Path overlapped, many years ago, when I was working for a company called Jacada, in Israel. I was a Marketing/Customer Service Manager at the time, and I had constant battles with the Quality Assurance Manager. And both of us had a rough time with the R&D dept.  All three of us were headstrong managers, and each believed we were doing the best for the company.

However, this constant bickering about whose responsibility each dept had, and whose work had priority did little to push a bright united face out to the customer. My boss at the time, Ofer Timor, who is described in his company Inimiti as a ‘people's person,’ was very wise, and when we came crying to him to jump in and solve the issue, he sent us out to have lunch together – something you can imagine we really didn’t want to do. But that lunch made us realize that the others were just people, struggling with life, the same as we were. We learned to see each other as people, not obstacles, and to help each other by cooperating, rather than competing. Thus together we could focus on the Critical Path of the company.

* * *
A few months later, my son was diagnosed with cancer. All of a sudden, all issues at work faded away - for me - into a blur of ‘Uh, work? customers?’ Of course, for the company, the work still had to go on, and profits had to be made. But for me, all I cared about was being by the bedside of my son, in intensive care, as he recovered from the first of many operations.

The management at Jacada, I am happy to say, was amazingly supportive, and besides giving me an unlimited leave of absence, even went so far as to send me lunch, daily – delivered to the hospital. 
I, in turn, in the months that followed, gave back to the company in the way I could, by helping out in the accounting department, hunting down bills that had not yet been issued – thus helping the company recover quite a lot of money in ‘oops we nearly forgot to bill for this’ revenue.

They helped me with my bucket list – by letting me spend that precious time by my son’s side, and I helped them with their critical path – increasing the revenue.

* * *

What is on your bucket list/critical path? Are you waiting for tragedy to strike, or are you making sure to get the most out of your own life/company, right now? 

And what tips (apart from reading disaster stories) do you have to remember to keep on track? 
Feel free to leave those tips in the comments. :)
(Previously published on my other blog: http://studyleaks.blogspot.nl/2015/01/why-bucket-list-is-like-critical-path.html?showComment=1423413506073

http://www.spring.org.uk/2014/04/the-positive-effect-of-creative-hobbies-on-performance-at-work.php?

Looks like I have my work set out for me! The more people come and enjoy painting workshops with me, the happier and more productive they will be at work!
Very interesting!
Sign up today! mailto:[email protected]

I can't believe that I made it to week 5 of the 6 week online course in Wholehearted living! 
Brené Brown, (PhD - Expert in Vulnerability, Shame and how Imperfection leads to Joy!), has been leading this course that I bravely signed up for it - and bought the required journal, art supplies (yes, of course I had stuff at home, but it's always fun to buy more!!!), and the book "The Gifts of Imperfection" (yes, also by Brené)...

On Wednesday this week, I heard that Gijs, one of my students at the HvA, had died suddenly at the age of 26. I liked Gijs; he was a likable, friendly, enthusiastic guy. All the teachers liked him. Students too. He's the kind of person who probably has had very few enemies.  At that moment, I felt like the world was slipping away, a black hole opening up, immense sadness overcome me although I have only known Gijs since September this year.
The reason for that mountain of emotion is, I think, what I refer to in the title, as the Domino Effect. When you have already experienced grief in your life, and then you are later faced with another moment of grief, you may feel as if the new grief echoes the old one. In other words, I was not only feeling sad because of Gijs, but also feeling for a while the way I felt when my own son died. So many familiar feelings welled up inside of me. It's unfair, he's too young, could I have done something to prevent this? 

How many times a day do you have your ideas shot down with someone's "Yes but..."?
The best and fastest way to kill creativity and enthusiasm in a group is by throwing in a "Yes, but..."
It's amazing and sad to see how everyone shuts up, no one else dares to propose new ideas and the joy is swept out of the room, like a slow but sure leak from a balloon.
So, what to do?

Today I'm feeling particularly solution focused...
Rather than blame others for being negative, try yourself to say a lot more of "Yes and"!
For some ideas, check out this site: http://www.yes-but.org

As a child, my life felt void of meaning, until various external, future events would trigger a feeling of excitement and anticipation. A visit from my grandmother, who lived on the East Coast, a holiday, a party we could attend, a trip to my aunt and uncle.

As I grew older, I was still motivated by the future I would have, the career I would build, the money I’d earn, the man I’d marry, the children I would have.

Eventually, there he was, my first child, and I was swamped in the present. In the diapers and crying, rashes and tantrums, illogical demands of a baby who cannot tell me what he wants and expects. I rushed back to work, where adults spoke with words and body language I could understand, and had expectations I could meet. Arrange that event, contact that person, make a deal, earn us a profit…

And then my son fell ill; they thought he would die on that first day on the operating table… but he survived. He was riddled with cancer and yet he smiled, he laughed, he sang, danced even. Suddenly, through this child of mine, this meaningful person who I had not yet learned to fully appreciate, I learned that today is the day that is full of meaning. That if I looked only to the future - that anticipation might be of more illness, or death, so it was better to stay in the here and now.

The house filled up with visitors, my inbox with good wishes, my life suddenly overflowed with both joy and tears.

And although Yarden has moved on from this world to the next, he has left me with many gifts. Among them, an enormous feeling of gratefulness for what I do have. For the day, for the moment, my senses, health, friends and family, a good place to live, my surviving children, my ever-growing capacity to love.

“The past is history, the future a mystery, the present is a gift.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)

Last week, I lost someone dear to me. It brought up all the old losses, the newer losses, the unfinished and finished grief still lingering in me. I told a friend that I was reading a book on grief (Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's On Grief and Grieving). He said, "Why don't you write a book yourself?" After all, I have suffered what some consider the 'ultimate loss' - the loss of a child. My firstborn, to be precise. And now, 15 years later, the story is there, perhaps waiting to come out. Would it help others if I were to tell Yarden's story? Or my story? I have survived such a terrible loss, and yet have grown stronger, more resilient. I have discovered coping skills in me that I never knew I had. I learned so much from my young boy, merely 4 when he died.  And like I said, each new loss of someone else I knew and loved, again awakens the feelings. Sadness, love, a bottomless pit, an emptiness... and then gratefulness for having known them, and for the lessons learned. Perhaps indeed the story needs to be told...

The thing is, I don't know how to begin... With his death? Birth? My wanting to have a child, but the difficulty in parenting once he was born? The temporary relief I felt after Yarden slipped away with little pain, and the guilt that relief brought? All the things I'm writing down seem the wrong thing to say, and I know that is my critical self. All the feelings I had and have are legitimate. The more honest I am, the more others might be able to connect with this, and with their own feelings. And that is my aim. To say, 'it's ok to feel what you are feeling. It's all ok, it's all normal.' 

Today, driving back from shopping, I began to think about the dear woman who died last Thursday, the one who I loved like a mother many years ago. And thinking of her brought up tears which I blinked back, thinking how unwise it would be to drive and cry. And how sad I am that I am far from her family and cannot go there to sit with them, and grieve together. Minutes later I passed the garden center and thought about planting flowers in my garden to welcome the spring which I hope will be coming soon to Holland... It's ok to be distracted. And fine to cry too.
Grief is good. It reminds me to value the here and now. To enjoy the neon orange colors of the footballers I see in the field across from my office window, and how their shirts stand out in the darkening grey of dusk.