Sunday, April 17, 2016

Using People


The usage of someone elses body,

For ones own pleasures.

The self gratifying eros love,

That overwhelms the body,

But depletes the soul.

Is there ever a time when it is not taking?

Is there anything one can give to balance the weight of such a beautiful gift?

Life, commitment, one's own self.

Something man tries to capture within the words of marriage vows,

Something that commits even when sickness strikes and poverty destroys,

And cheating and beating implode,

Or the desert and dryness and feelings of being a ghost or being disconnected intercede.

Only commitment which supercedes these is the worthy counterbalance to the physical act of intimacy.


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright 2016

Saturday, April 16, 2016

What do you do?

What do you do when you just have to keep going?

When everything you believed was a lie?

When everything you worked so hard for has vanished before your eyes?

When the thing you wanted most is within reach but you do not want it anymore?

When the world keeps pushing and keeps moving but you are trapped?

And suicide becmes peaceful resolution and alternative to the churning anxiety of existence?

When idols have faded and man's condundrum has become so clear its confusing?

When people depend on you to carry the cross of a piece of the world you have carved out for yourself?

When answers are nowhere to be found yet revelations flood you to the point you cannot exist as you once were?

When light is followed by utter darkness and tears flow from no where at the recognition of kindness or even the remote possibility that man can overcome his own obstacles?

When you are alone and afraid and empty and overwhelmed and frustrated and disappointment and sad at the loss of a friend?

And people around you are getting hit left and right and there is no enemy to fight but the hopelessness of sitting in the muck simply resonates?

What do you do?  What do you do then?

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright April 2016

Monday, April 11, 2016

Jail Time

Arthur sat at the table with Ben.  They had been friends for years and enjoyed spending their Sunday evenings together, sipping coffee and pontificating life.

Arthur uttered the words, "Commitment."

"What does it mean to you?", Ben asked.

"Well, I know that at the end of the day, there is no such thing as true commitment.  I'm not fully committed to anyone and no one is fully committed to me.  It all is based on conditions."

Ben replied, "Hmm.  I'm a little offended by that.  I'm committed to a lot of people."

Arthur asked, "Really?  If someone turned on you and went out murdering others, would you really stay by their side?  What would your commitment look like them?  Conditions.  There's always conditions."

Ben instinctively replied, "Well, Arthur, we are talking about you now aren't we?  If you one day messed up and started killing people and went to jail, who do you think would visit you?"

Arthur hesitated.  Ben has a way of somehow always seeing beyond his thoughts.  The strange ability to pull out hidden meaning when there was none.  Arthur decided to reveal his truth.

"No one", he said quietly.

"Where does that come from?" Ben asked

"I don't know", said Arthur.

Ben was quiet now.  Softly, he asked, "Was there ever a time when no one visited you?"

"Yeah." Arthur replied.  "When I first went into business, I rented a beautiful corner office space with a view looking over the marina.  It was so gorgeous but I was saddened by the fact that no one in my family ever visited me there."

Arthur continued thinking.  Thoughts racing through his mind, a micro processor performing a search algorithm.  "Well, a few years back, I visited my old apartment.  It was my first apartment after leaving home.  Even though it was so long ago, I broke down in tears crying."

Ben quietly listened as Arthur continued processing.

"Yeah, I was crying when I realized my mother had never visited me there."

Ben said, "Hmm.  Sounds like some painful memories.  Its completely normal for people to cry when they remember something painful, even if it happened a long time ago.  But it sounds like, when you say no one will visit you, you really mean that the people who mean the most to you won't visiting you."

Arthur affirmed, "Yeah.  I mean what good is life if you can't take the people you love along the journey with you?"

Ben thought about a billion things to say.  He could mention that the beauty of life was that the people you love are always on the journey with you.  Or ask, "It's hard to accept change when you've built your life around someone you love, isn't it?"  But somehow, he knew Arthur would have to figure this one out in his own time and in his own way.

"I know what you mean Arthur," Ben sighed.  "I know what you mean."

Rewrite History

If I knew what I knew before, I would do it all differently
Cause the secrets of life wouldn't be such a mystery
If I could go back in time I could change history
No more brokenness and shame
No sin and guilt and pain
No Hell to burn in flames
Properly dealing with emotions, there'd be no need to numb the core
Caring for myself and others, convert a void into a store
Receiving developmental needs, feeling loved forever more
Kill rape, hatred and greed
Lying, cheating wounds bleed
The devil's destined rude creed
No split between my needs, and the needs of others
Integrated through love of both father and mother
A peaceful life to live, there'd be no need to suffer
Grace, compassion and empathy
Acknowledgement, support and sympathy
Together, united, a sweet symphony
<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright April 2016

Friday, April 8, 2016


Powerless against the will of our parents,

We go with the flow,

Accepting things as they come,

No need to fight the tide,

No need to give your thought or your inputs,

You don't matter,

What you think is not important,

Put me in school early,

Pull me out when you want,

Hold me back when you want,

I have no control,

Pretend you care what I say,

But just do what you want in the end,

Forever embed in me,

The feeling that I am somehow defective,

Because I am so used to being different,

And all the while,

Let me ignore the depravity,

Through an existence of self denial and imagination,

That somehow takes this broken world,

Not as it is,

But as I would have it,

Through mind bending, mind altering, craziness.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright April 2016

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Walking with Ghosts

I had a friend come to me the other day.  He opened up about when he was a young boy and had a friend who he had a crush on.  He always regretted never asking her out because he was afraid to risk.  Risk losing her.  Risk rejection.  Risk his feelings not being returned.

It reminded me of my story.  When I was a kid.  So many memories.  Being awkward with braces and glasses.  Being called a nerd because I was smart.  Yet, hitting so many hurdles because I had trouble with reading.  I just didn't fit in.  Anywhere.  Period.  Sometimes it felt like I had no friends.  Other times I was bullied.  Don't we all go through these things?  Aren't there so many parallels to being that young boy afraid to take a chance?

So one day, I did.  I decided to take some risk.  I decided to ask the girl who sat next to me in class to go to the eighth grade dance with me.  Not only did she say, "No."  But she also told all of her friends and they all thought I had a crush on her.  To this day, I still remember how they looked at me.  I was humiliated.  Completely and utterly humiliated.

On the other hand, I really wanted to celebrate the last dance together with my classmates.  I thought to myself, "Maybe it's just her, I'll ask another girl."  So I did.  I asked the girl in my home room class.  She was also a nice girl.  I thought for sure, she might go.  However, when I asked, she said that she wasn't even going to go because her mom wouldn't let her.

Rejected! Twice!  I felt so defective that I actually thought she decided not to go just to avoid me.  I thought she was just using her mother as a polite way to let me down.

Sure.  An adult might know that these girls were probably as freaked out about dating as I was.  An adult might realize that the social norm is not to blindly ask a girl out.  Or blindly dump your hidden desires into her lap.  No, you must introduce yourself first.  You must look for clues that she might actually be into you too.  A smile, a compliment, a warm soft giggle.  Then, you ask her to coffee or go for a short walk.  You don't just randomly ask a stranger if she will spend four hours with you, most of which she will be slow dancing in your arms.

All true.  But I was just a kid and I didn't know all that.  All I knew was that I was humiliated.  I felt like the dorky reject that no girl would want to ever go to the dance with.  I was so hurt, that I vowed to never feel that powerless again.

That's when it started.  I learned how to flirt and feed off of the attention of girls.  I wrote notes in class and collected love letters.  It was as if somehow, if I collected enough hearts in my jar that I could somehow mend my own broken heart.

I ended up going to that eighth grade dance.  The very next year, I was asked by one of my sister's friends.  To this day, I still remember the day we met, sitting on my front lawn.  She was an amazing girl and she changed my world.  So many good memories.  But I was still so wounded, that when we did go to the dance together, I somehow needed to make up for being that loser the year before.  I needed to take advantage of the popularity of being a high schooler, admired by junior classmen.  So when another girl showed her interest, I left my date and danced with her.

It was not only rude, but it was actually really sad.  I no longer could trust one woman.  I couldn't put all of my eggs into one basket.  Because I knew where that might lead.  Rejection and loneliness.

So I continued on this path of flirtation.  I ended up going to five different high school proms.  As if there was score keeping involved.  While my hurt and bruised ego was fed, I never was able to fill the void left by a damaged heart.  I never could go back to the time when I was in eighth grade and repair my wound.

Have you ever heard the saying, "A symptom is just an external manifestation of a deeper root cause?"  In the end, it wasn't the affection of girls I was chasing.  It was really the love of my mother.

Every child needs to feel unconditionally loved for proper development. But that is the thing with unmet childhood needs.  If one does not receive what they are supposed to receive at the proper place and time, they can never go back and change things.  No matter what I did, nothing could ever fill the void of not feeling unconditionally loved by my own mother.

However, there are things I could do.  I could identify the loss.  I could greive the loss.  I could choose to accept the loss.  Then, I could choose, at appropriate times to be vulnerable, even when that would mean being powerless to how another person might responded.

I could look back and be thankful for what took place.  That is, I can look at the positive impact these things have had in my life.  Rick Warren states, "The greatest contribution you will make in life will stem from your greatest source of pain."

It is only because of this major loss in my life, that I tell my kids I love them all the time.  I make sure each one knows that I love them.  Even when they disrespect me, hate me and are imperfect, I love them through it.  They are allowed to feel negative feelings toward me, without affecting how I feel about them.  We all focus on being the change we wish to see in the world.

It is only because of this major loss in my life, that I have been able to comfort and sympathize with so many who have experienced a similar lack of love in their childhood.

We were never supposed to get everything from our parents anyway.  They are imperfect and we live in a broken world.  They were always supposed to reflect a greater love, like the moon reflecting the light of the sun.

To wrap up this part of my story, I leave you with this Christian quote...

"Praise be to the God and Father or our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."

Friday, April 1, 2016

Boy Meets Girl

He loves her.  She loves him.  There was a boy, there was a girl.  Can I make it any more obvious?  Problem was she and her aint the same gal.

"I love you.  Isn't that enough?", she asked.

"No, that's not enough.  Life and responsibility.  Balancing what I need and want with what the world needs and wants.  They don't always agree," he replies.

A few weeks pass and the magnetic pull of chemistry is too much to handle.  Out of desperation, his heart wrenching, he pleads, "I love you.  Isn't that enough?"

But the woman, the incubator that she is.  Takes ingredients and makes a meal.  Takes a house and makes it a home.  Takes a seed and makes a baby.  Takes an idea and makes it a reality.

She replies, "No.  It's not enough.  I have my obligations.  I can't go chasing you.  I can't waste my energy.  I'm too old for these games."

So what does one do when the head and heart collide?  Does one walk the road to envy and jealousy and betrayal?  Or does one walk the life of boredom, tired and exhausted by the weight of life?

Watching Phantom of the Opera, she sees him on the screen?  Watching Superman versus Batman, he sees her?  Every movement, every little thing triggers a memory of distant past.

An age old story, yet told again and again as they continue through life.

He was a boy, she was a girl.  Can I make it any more obvious?