Ian's Blog

There is an idea called standing too close to the elephant. When you stand right next to an elephant, all you see is a trunk, a leg, maybe a patch of skin. You cannot grasp its size, its shape, or its meaning. Only when you step back, when time passes, when distance grows can you see the whole animal. Some stories demand that kind of distance. The story of Emmett Till is one of them. Let me give you a history lesson. Early 1950s. United States of America. A fourteen-year-old Black boy named Emmett Till travels from Chicago to Mississippi to visit family. Before he leaves, his mother gives him a warning that says everything about the country at the time: if a white man looks at you, look away. Don’t answer back. Don’t linger. Don’t be bold. Survival depended on submission. But Emmett is from Chicago. He’s not used to Mississippi’s rules. He’s not scared in the way Southern racism required Black children to be scared. One day, he walks into a store. There’s a white woman behind the count...

I recently listened to a man speak about submission in his 28-year-old marriage, and instead of answering questions, his words provoked many more. Not the defensive kind of questions, but the honest, uncomfortable, necessary ones. Should a husband expect submission automatically from his wife? Are there requirements a man must meet for his wife to submit to him? And perhaps the most rarely asked question of all: is there such a thing as a man submitting to his wife? These questions matter because submission is one of the most misunderstood and emotionally loaded words in relationships. It has been preached, weaponized, romanticized, and rejected, often without careful thought. Many people hear the word and immediately imagine loss of agency, silence, or inequality. Others hear it and assume authority, entitlement, and obedience. Somewhere between these extremes lies a deeper, more honest understanding. Here was the man’s take: He said he dies a slow death every time he hears women say ...

  There’s a simple idea that sounds almost too obvious to be powerful, yet it quietly sits at the root of many emotional, mental, and even physical struggles people carry into adulthood: forgiveness. Not the fluffy, feel-good kind that ignores pain, but the hard, deliberate kind that restores your peace of mind. According to this framework, there are four people you must forgive if you want to live free and it starts closer to home than most of us are comfortable admitting. The first person you must forgive is your parents. Forgive your parents for everything they’ve ever done that hurt you. This isn’t an accusation; it’s an observation backed by years of research and human experience. Most studies, and most honest conversations, reveal that a large percentage of adult problems trace back to being unwilling or unable to forgive our parents for something they did or failed to do. It might have been neglect, harsh words, absence, unrealistic expectations, or wounds they never knew th...

  Ever wondered why a simple conversation can feel like a cross-cultural exchange? Welcome to the tale of two brains. Let’s talk about one of life’s greatest mysteries: how men and women can live in the same house, love each other deeply, and still feel like they’re from completely different planets. The answer, according to this tale, lives upstairs—in the brain. Not in a scientific, peer‑reviewed, white‑lab‑coat way, but in a painfully accurate, laugh‑because-it’s-true way. A man’s brain is best understood as a collection of little boxes. Neat. Organized. Clearly labeled. There’s a box for the car, a box for money, a box for work, a box for the kids, and somewhere a box labeled “your mother.” The key feature here is that the boxes do not touch. Ever. When a man opens one box, that is the only box that exists. The rest of the brain politely minds its business. This is why a man can sit quietly, staring at nothing in particular, and be perfectly content. He has opened the legendary...

  I know Comedian Tim Minchin and I recently came across his address to University of Western Australia graduates. I think he was onto something with his nine pointers of living.  1. You don’t have to have a dream  You don’t need a grand life dream to justify your life. If you have one, great. But chasing a single long-term dream can make you miss the interesting opportunities right in front of you. Be micro-ambitious — work with pride on what’s immediately ahead of you and you’ll be surprised where it leads.  2. Don’t seek happiness   Happiness is like an orgasm — the more you obsess about it, the more it slips away. Humans evolved not to be constantly content. Aim to do worthwhile things and make others happy; happiness will follow as a side effect.  3. Remember, it’s all luck   You are extraordinarily lucky just to be alive and here — born into circumstances that gave you access to this moment. Success isn’t all because of your effort; luc...

  Imagine walking into a room and instantly commanding attention—not because of what you wear, how you look, or what you say but because of the love and support you carry with you. This is the radical, transformative idea that Maya Angelou offered on self-love. In one memorable reflection, she said, “There’s an African saying: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt. I mean, if he had something, he'd cover himself first, right?” The point is simple but profound: genuine self-love comes from within. It is a recognition of one’s own worth, independent of external validation, and an acknowledgment of the people who have shaped and supported you. Angelou went further, offering a striking metaphor for carrying that love into the world. She suggested that when entering any space—an office, an interview, or any situation where one seeks recognition or influence, one should “bring your people with you.” She described it vividly: “Say, ‘Grandma, come on, let’s go.’ Great-grandpa’s...

  I’ve learned, slowly and sometimes painfully, that the hardest prayer is not asking for success, health, or clarity in others—but asking for the humility to see yourself. Whatever you do, pray for the ability to see your own sins, your own hypocrisy, and your own shortcomings. It sounds simple, even pious, but it is anything but. To truly see yourself is to confront the parts of you that you hide, that you excuse, and that you try to ignore. It is a confrontation most people avoid, because it hurts, because it challenges pride, and because it forces honesty in a world that rewards performance over truth. Pointing fingers is easy. It is satisfying. It makes us feel superior, moral, in the right. But it is dangerous. The moment you spend more energy judging someone else than inspecting your own life, you risk building a house of illusions. You think yourself upright, virtuous, justified—but underneath, the cracks are widening. We all have abscesses that need tending. We all carry h...