To Renunciate

I was on the subway the other day and I was sitting between two women who were both reading books. I looked to my left and saw the chapter title of the woman’s book: “Yoga Freedom through Renunciation.” I looked to my right and saw the chapter title of the other woman’s book: “Renunciation and Rebirth.” I looked up the word renunciation when I got home to see why this would be such a hot topic on the train. Here are a few definitions:


1. An act or instance of relinquishing, abandoning, repudiating, or sacrificing something, as a right, title, person, or ambition.
2. The act or an instance of renouncing: the renunciation of all earthly pleasures.
3. A declaration in which something is renounced.

So both these women were learning how to eliminate something from their lives to reach some higher understanding. I like the idea of trying to rid yourself of whatever prevents you from happiness, but why are people so eager to renounce things? Can’t we reach enlightenment by embracing our faults and focusing on our goals? Instead of putting so much energy toward getting rid of a negative attribute, people should work hard to attaining whatever positive goals their trying to reach, and the thing they were trying to get rid of will fall by the wayside as a result.
For example, I had a bad habit of cracking my wrists all the time. I would crack them so often that it got to the point where it hurt not to crack them, but then it would also hurt to crack them. I would wear a rubber band on my wrist and snap my hand every time I thought about cracking my wrist, or tell a friend to slap my hand or do some other ridiculous techniques to stop the habit. But after a while I just stopped and I don’t remember when I stopped. At some point in time, my wrist popping wasn’t a priority anymore and so it was no longer a problem. I must have just shifted my focus to something else and my habit subsided because I had more important things to think about.
I’m not saying that loosing ourselves from our vices is just as easy as focusing on something else, but there’s no need to throw our troubles out the window and call it “renounced.” I think the best way to deal with our faults is to recognize them, embrace them, not be so hard on ourselves for having them (we’re human), and then move onto something else. As long as we’re aware that we have these problems, it’s easier to curb them whenever they surface.

Beep Beep and Vroom Vroom

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the best driver. Sure I don’t always put on the turning signals, yes I didn’t know that you had to put on the lights when it’s raining, and I just learned the use of 1^st and 2^nd drive but there has to be some outlying reason why I seem to get into vehicle incidents/accidents so frequently, for real. I would understand if I were driving while impaired/under the influence or whatnot, but these occur on the most basic runs. There is no reason why a trip to the gas station should end in the ER or a trip to Best Buy to end in a hit and run. Better yet having an MTA bus smash off my side view mirror while waiting at a red light.

But, this past Thursday was out of control! On my way to the train station I got into a fender bender with a livery cab driver. Not only did he hit me from the back (no pun intended,lol) but he then tried to spin it to say that it was my fault, of course at this point I lost my temper . But moving along, I find a parking spot and make my way to my “job” and class afterwards. There was a mixer at 8 but I was not in the mood so I left for home after class. I get off the train and make my way to the spot I parked and the god-forsaken car had been towed (rage ensued). $263 later I’m riding in the passenger seat and am debating whether or not the red devil and I have come to the end of our relationship, it just might be time for an upgrade.

I have been receiving such positive feedback about the mamltdart FACES Blog! and T-shirt sales are on the rise! I am so excited that people are identifying with the brand!

New FACE of mAmLtDart

Greetings FACE followers,

Simply would like to introduce myself as I am a new voice and face on this blog. Keeping in line with the question, "Who do you aspire to be?", here goes my intro:

My name is Malaika Carpenter and I aspire to be a woman of excellence by honoring God with my gift of writing and creativity, through my love of others, and in my strength of character.

Second, I would like to add a line about what I intend on contributing to the blog:
1. A word of encouragement
2. A glimpse into my life
3. A good word on a good book I read, play I saw, art I experienced
4. "Take It To the People" moment - reader's feedback on a frustration, questions, comment and/or opinion

Talk soon (or blog soon!),

Malaika

Taxed but not Smacked, Flipped or Rubbed Down!

I went to dinner a couple of nights ago with my business partner. After a rough week, personally, professionally, and emotionally- I was ready to pontificate on the stresses of work and family and the lack of romance in my life. Emotionally taxed by constant and consistent professional battles, feeling dejected, tired, and just plain worn out; over a pitcher of margaritas, I turned and asked "Do you think i'm too invested?" and she replied "Hell yeah! And its because you aren't gettin' any- Fat, Ugly Broads have beautiful men for which they have babies- what's your problem?"

She said "You Need to Have It Smacked, Flipped, and Rubbed Down!"
Now thats something to pontificate on...

Sister friend...

I just watched a program on the life of Maya Angelou and what an extraordinary life she's lived in her 70+ years. But the thing that most stood out to me were the wonderful relationships she's fostered with people who came from all walks of life and were pursuing a host of career and life paths. Among those numerous invaluable relationships, she has "sister friends."

What an awesome label--one that I'd never heard, but that immediately resonated with me. I, too, belong to a sisterhood that inspires and fuels me to be a better woman. We've not taken any vows or been formally recognized as such. In fact, some of the members of my sisterhood don't even know each other with their only commonality being that they have me as a friend. Being just one month away from my 25th birthday, I have only just begun to truly appreciate having these women in my life. And my sisters are connected to me in a way that I almost can't describe, but I'll certainly try!

(blood-related "sister friends")...

My Granny ...I can tell her anything without the fear of being judged, she listens and is always honest about her opinion. From caretaker to very best friend, Granny's been my rock for some time now.

There's Mommy--her given name is Cheryl, her best qualities are her independent nature and her fiery tongue...some think Mel and I take after her even though she's gotten a little less stinging with her commentary as she ages. We've really become close as I've taken my journey into womanhood...she's my biggest cheerleader...she rallies my spirit.

Then there's Mel-- what can I say about Mel? We shared a womb and identical DNA strands, but as much as we are alike, we are different. She was the one who dispelled the myth of Santa Clause for me and that's pretty much the role she plays in my life...brutally honest no matter how much I don't want to hear it--a quality I learn to love a little more each day. And she's such a go-getter and risk taker...she pursues what she wants when she wants and lives life on her own terms...I love it!

Ohhhh and Jenelle...J, is my cousin. She's a wife, aunt, sister, sister-in-law and soon-to-be mother. Rarely do we get a chance to actually speak, but we are so alike in the ways that we respond to family. She's the consummate nurturer (all things to all people and its a tendency I guess we get from Granny). Much like "my rock," J exudes love and warmth; it's a quality that makes her quite honorable in my view.

My other "sister friends"...a truly special bunch of few that I won't name, but I'll tell you why i love them and how they move me toward greatness...

There's the aspiring researcher and scientist...she's been through a lot in her 24 and 1/4 years, but is sweet as pie...she's determined and focused and ever so loving...if I'm ever in need of help, emotional support or just someone to vent to, she's always there. We don't have to talk every day or even every month, but when we do it's like we're right back in Brooklyn walking through the halls of John Dewey High School again...nothing's changed between us...we're just older, wiser, more beautiful and way less broke.

There's the single mom, summa cum laude graduate and soon-to-be homeowner...she's fun and funny, and so smart! She's a great mom and committed to making the best life possible for her and her beautiful baby girl. For me, she brings out my silliness...we talk all the time and check in at all times, and keep each other positive and laughing.

One of them is my sister in singlehood...she was my next door neighbor freshman year in college and we just clicked. She's so much like me its scary...she's my sounding board, my drinking buddy, my dinner date once a month...She's my "hype man." She is me if I were born to another mother and father in a different city.

Ohhh and I can't forget about the community worker and tutor...she's a little loud and a lot funny. She has a master's degree and works for pennies to serve others. Can one be more loving and compassionate than that?! She makes sure that I'm taking care of myself, putting myself first doing what I need to do for me. And I make sure that her moodiness is in check! (As much as I can anyway.)

There are so many women in this life that have my respect and admiration, but these women have all stolen a piece of my heart. They keep me going no matter what is going on in my life and for that I love and cherish my sister friends!

If you're one of them and you're reading this, you know who you are. Know that I love you dearly!! Muah!

Riding the F Train

Every once in a while I’ll have a moment that makes me say "ah, New York," in a very appreciative manner. Moments like going over the Brooklyn Bridge and seeing the Manhattan lights, hearing "Empire State of Mind" blasting out of someone’s car or store front, or buying a cheap slice of pizza at three o’clock in the morning on my way home reinforce my love of NY.

I have one very distinct moment that involves a subway performer. I was riding the F train when it stalled on the track above ground (around the 4 Ave/Smith-9^th area). The train didn’t move and I had a clear shot of the Empire State Building. While we sat there, an old man walked into our car from an adjoining car and started singing "What A Wonderful World" in a very raspy voice. He had an old electric guitar, a mic in front of his face and the slightly distorted sounds came out of a small speaker he had tied to his back. "What A Wonderful World" is one of my favorite songs, and this man did such a beautiful/unique rendition of it. The combination of that song and the view of the city was enough to make me tear up. That moment really made me happy, but I didn’t give the performer any money, or any accolades at all. I just kept the moment to myself.

That event happened sometime last year. A couple days ago, I saw that same performer on the G train, counting his money at the end of the day. I didn’t know if I should tell him how much that moment meant to me. I wouldn’t usually do this, but something came over me and I decided to get up and tell him. I walked over and told him about the view of the city, his voice, that song and how it all made my night. He shook my hand and thanked me for telling him. We got off at the same stop and actually walked and talked for a while. He talked about God, his past mistakes, his attitude toward other people and life in general. It was a good conversation. He said he doesn’t usually talk to people at all; he just performs during the day and goes home by himself. He was surprised he was talking to me, and I was too after hearing his story but we were both glad it happened.

He gave me a hug and we parted ways. I think I made his night, which I hope was enough to pay him back for the time he made my night with his performance. Other than meeting an incredibly interesting person, I learned that it’s good to tell people you appreciate them. People don’t hear it as much as they should, or would like to. People rarely get their flowers while they can still smell them, but I feel like I just gave this man a bouquet and it made us both feel good.

Dr. Andani Prakash

After a week of wondering what I could do for Haiti, my family got a phone call that one of our family friends, Dr. Andani Prakash, was on life support and was not expected to wake up.

My parents met Dr. Prakash at Bangalore Medical College more than 40 years ago. He graduated with my father, but as the new doctors began their lives, they lost touch. Dr. Prakash immigrated to Canada and my parents to the New York, but fate brought them together again, when they all found themselves living in Milwaukee.

And since then, though my parents moved to Chicago and Dr. Prakash and his wife, Lalitha, moved to Nashville, they never lost touch again.

My older brother tells me about how Dr. Prakash borrowed a friend's van to take us to Huntsville to space camp. And though I have some memories of this event and other visits my family has had with him, the saddest part of this loss is the vacancy of memories.

I was too young to remember the bulk of the times that I had with Prakash Uncle, but hearing about his life and what he stood for, it seems like we may have been similar. He loved to travel, loved his culture and believed in supporting and improving his community. With each anecdote that friends and relatives told of his life, I became more resentful that I was robbed of the opportunity to form a meaningful bond with him. Although I know my feelings of resentment have no place at a time like this, I felt them building toward my parents and brother for not allowing me to form the same bonds with Prakash Uncle that they did.

Taking a step back, I know that my resentment is uncalled for. Not that my feelings are invalid, I do think that at some level I was not given the opportunity to form certain familial relationships and that this lacking has affected my life. All in all, however, it's nothing I can change. At some point, the past has to be left in the past and I have to be grateful for the little that I did have.

The anger and resentment from the past will continue to persist, but, however justified the feelings are, they can only control your present and future if you cling to them. That's what I'm learning everyday.

I suppose it'll help if I focus on the future. I believe in my heart that's what Prakash Uncle would want me to do.

Haiti...I'm Sorry!

Turned on the news last night, worked late so caught the 11 o'clock news. Watching the anchor person's lips moving- I wasn't following "Earthquake in Port-Au-Prince, thousands predicted dead"

For so many years, Haiti has seemingly been the black sheep of the Caribbean world- poverty so far reaching that it should require no voice to implore its neighbors' help,  fallen on deaf ears; politics, mother nature, and the open wounds of history- have all forsaken her. My soul weeps and loudly for Haiti and her children as no one deserves the tragedies that have be fallen them.

In the words of David Rudder "Haiti, I'm sorry"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PDuOxwAS3I

Elves and Sugar Plum Fairies

I am struggling to find balance between expectation and reality.

It is a short, somewhat plain statement, yet this sentence encompasses most of my current worries. Growing into adulthood assumes a shedding of idealism and coping with life’s imperfections, but my idealism is stubborn.

I naively believe in the depth of love. I reach for lofty goals. I still believe that I can be happy in ways that my most imaginative thoughts cannot conceive.

Don’t get me wrong. I do not live in a land of elves and sugar plum fairies, but I still believe in our abilities to transform the impossible into the possible.

Unfortunately, it seems like there are fewer people on my team every time I stop to look. Friends of mine have given up on forging new friendships because of fear. Former colleagues have decided to forget submitting job applications because they don’t want to face rejection. Others cling to relationships that they have expressed deep unhappiness with because they don’t want to risk being alone.

People make decisions for various reasons, I am not writing to judge these reasons, but it saddens me that many of my peers seem to have given up hope. Every time I turn around there are people telling me to lower my expectations, let go of dreams and focus on getting by.

Despite my utter contempt of the idea of lowering my expectations and settling, I have begun to believe these naysayers. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I stopped believing in the reliability of friends. I stopped challenging myself. I stopped following my heart.

It’s easy to expect less from life. If you don’t expect much from yourself or the people around you, then you’re less likely to be disappointed. You don't get hurt. But could you live with yourself? I know I couldn’t.

I caught myself. I reminded myself of who I am. Reality may change the course of my life now and then, but I won’t let it crush my spirit in the process. People will inevitably let you down, dreams will be crushed and mistakes will be made. It’s not always about having your expectations met. Sometimes it's just about preserving hope.

Twenty-ten marks the year of my comeback. I can feel it already. Hope all of you will come on the journey with me.