About hoyden

hoyden will follow the free tendencies of desire hoyden is a pill dropped in a glass of water hoyden is an illusion on a surface of memory hoyden is a finger resting on the controls of a broken machine hoyden turns as she pleases toward all horizons hoyden is perfect sadism, at least as a method hoyden is a beautiful chimera hoyden crouches to intercept shadows hoyden is not in the habit of saluting the dead hoyden will always find buyers hoyden is at most a thinking reed hoyden writes sad and ardent love letters hoyden is a door someone opened hoyden is a dark intention hoyden never waits for itself hoyden leaves an exquisite corpse

the road not taken

My mom grew up with this “The Land of Make Believe” poster and passed it along to me when I was a toddler. She hung it in my bedroom. I spent my childhood following the fantastic paths, flying on the magic carpet, and wanting to visit the Glass Mountain.

(click on the image to make it larger. it’s worth looking at in more detail!)

When I was 25, I moved to the beautiful coast of British Columbia with a then boyfriend. We lived a rather idyllic life for a short time. He was commuting into Vancouver for work, and I was at home learning how to make paper and soap with a neighbor and taking long woodsy walks with our cat. One of my splurges was to get internet access. Boyfriend didn’t understand why I wanted to communicate with people I didn’t know, halfway around the globe, but he went along with my whim. This was 1996 and my third computer. The world-wide-web was in its infancy. I had the joy of dial-up and Windows 95.
I was high-tech.

During my exploring of this networked realm, I came across travelers who had found inexpensive and adventurous ways to travel around the world. They worked on cargo ships, and had ingenious ways to get cheap airline tickets. If you remember what the Web looked like back then, it was pretty thrilling. (check out at 16:58 for a few seconds. ha!)

My imagination loved this traveling information I found and I planned, and schemed, and dreamt about adventures in other countries. This unknown future pulled me like a strong magnet.

Unfortunately, my partner wasn’t so excited about these ideas. I showed him pictures and budgets and tried to spark his adventuresome self, but it wasn’t where he was at the time.

I was at a crossroads.

My dad visited me from Brooklyn at my forested home in southern Illinois when I was 15 years old. We went for a walk in the beautiful Shawnee National Forest where he recited Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken“. The poem obviously had deep meaning to my dad, and because of that, it was important to me. The idea of different paths leading to different lives was intriguing to my young self.

Every choice you make in your life takes you down a specific path, each path has infinite branches. One day you take the highway home from work, another day you decide to take city streets home. The time you arrive home is different, the other drivers you encounter are different. That one day where you were looking down at your phone at a stop sign and the guy behind you had to honk for you to look up and cross, might be the day when that guy behind you gets t-boned two miles later because of that pause you took. If you hadn’t been there, he would have driven through that other intersection minutes before the drunk driver arrived. There is no way to know, and it’s useless to ponder that lest it drive you mad staring bug-eyed into the infinite.

There are times in one’s life where you know that this particular choice is going to set a path with no backtracking. Those days up on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia gave me that kind of choice.

I stayed with the young man and looked over my shoulder for a while. Eventually, the urge lessened, then faded into a dull hum, and over time to an invisible recurring background process.

We moved back to Oakland, then a year later to my hometown in Illinois. That is where our relationship ended. He left back to Oakland, and I moved to Chicago.

As I sit here in my new home, with a good corporate job and invisible recurring background process, living the life of a responsible adult, I wonder what life the me is having who left from Canada to parts unknown.

hic sunt dragones.

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eclipse 08-21-2017

Patiently, we wait.

I see through my special glasses the wispy clouds in front of the eclipse give the impression of a lunar fluidity – as if the moon and sun have a soluble state and will perhaps at any moment merge into a fantastic lunar/solar cataclysmic event.

Seeing the corona with the naked eye, the center looks like it will burst through. The sun will take over the moon that is rudely blocking its view – the angry halo reaching out into the sky. I don’t have a setup for taking amazing photos of the corona – like the one below taken by my friend and photog extraordinaire Devin Miller, but my phone shows the beauty of the sky at totality.

Obviously, the sun and the moon are actually far, far, apart from each other, but the wavering edges of the clouds trick my vision and do not convey celestial solidity.

©Devin Miller

As I bask in the moon wind it’s strength reaching earth affecting the tides, it pulls me onward.

From darkness
I go onto the road of darkness.
Moon, shine on me from far
over the mountain edge.

~ Zen Master Ikkyyu

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today I choose

Everyday is a choice.
Choose to get out of bed. Choose to go to work.
Choose to go back home instead of continuing on past your exit for an indefinite drive. Choose to go to bed at a reasonable hour so that choosing to get out of bed the next morning isn’t as difficult.

Everyday is a choice.
Choose not to get angry at the driver who cuts you off. Choose to help a co-worker instead of feigning busy.
Choose to get out of your chair and walk under the constant fluorescent lights. Choose to have a helpful mindset. Choose to not be disagreeable even when you feel like it.
Choose to breathe in and out when feeling overwhelmed.
Choose not to run.

Today I choose.