We are all pixels. I am a pixel. You are a pixel. Everything is pixels. Partaking in an image of x, y, z, infinity, infinity, infinity. There are no gaps or space, just pixels. Fathom the unfathomable. You are floating on top, underneath, beside, adjacent to everything. 

Disconnected connections randomly placed where up close completely insignificant on it's own, however viewed from any angle anywhere a conclusion of thoughts. 

One pixel composed of rational thought, common sense, and adversity. Vulnerable. Destructible. Lazy. Coexisting. Existing. Predictive. Addictive. Possible. 

There's only room for us and nothing more. Though imagine the unfathomable. Destruction equals construction. Where there is death, there is life. Pixels do not cease to be. Just the color is exchanged. White to blue. Blue to red. Red to yellow. And life goes on. A constant flow of ever-changing colors. Magnificent. Powerful. Complete. 

Some people like to believe in God. I like to believe in the bigger picture.

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I gotta thank you
For changing my life
For taking me for granted
And losin all the trust I had
It showed me
How bad I had it

You made me who I am
For getting all the bad
All at once it woke me
Gave me life
Woke me up and told me
That ain't my life

I oughta thank you
For pushing me away
For choosing not to stay and fight
To become the star I am
in another sky
I love goodbyes

I oughta thank you
For messing with my head
For getting outta bed
It left a space here
Made a spot for him
this is where I am, yeah

You made me who I am
For getting all the bad
All at once it woke me
Gave me life
Woke me up and told me
That ain't my life

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You know that tired old question that's been run over and over until it's lost in itself? Well, I got to thinking about this today. What is art. It's something that evolves continuously and I think that's why so many people have a hard time pegging it for what it is. 

If I were to say what I think art is, I would say it is when a person is able to capture something that results in others wishing that they had captured it themselves first. And when that is multiplied by the masses, one can be considered a legendary artist. 

I think being an artist is a balance of ego, torment and self gratification. Probably most artists would agree with me. Achieving the status of influence that surrounds you with enjoy almost on a zombie level. Throves of artist hopefulls wishing they could taste what you have inside that makes you create what you're so unique at creating.

To capture a single image, a shot, a single epitaph of a fleeting moment.... that is what creates jealousy to which all who cannot recreate that moment want to own that moment. A artist is one whose fantasy is good enough to visualize what others have never yet seen and able to produce what it is in reality. Evoking envy, head scratching, and awe. Text that cannot be resaid better, or wiser, or music that cannot have been played more eloquently. This is art. To me anyway. 

I should hardly ever call myself an artist as I've never yet attained that level of envy. I am just one of those fellow zombies feeding off the ones who strive to make the hand obey the mind.

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What happens when the enemy you were told to mistrust is nothing more than a faceless embodiment of beliefs? A blur of morals justified by egoistic superiority. A good PR campaign with colorful 3D self righteousness. You could build an entire empire ruled by fear. History is doomed to repeat itself, because fear requires an enemy. An enemy requires fear. As long as we continue to be shown who the enemy should be, we will always fall victim to fear. When the enemy is faceless, how can you know they are your enemy when you look them in the eye? 

The problem with the world today is that we have been spoon fed by the media for so long telling us who our enemy should be that we no longer can step outside of our homes anymore without worrying a run-in with our enemy. People get behind a microphone and tell you who to trust. They sit behind a keyboard and blast the enemy with sufficient doubt that there is no longer a requirement of accountability. When mankind releases personal accountability and responsibility for their own beliefs handing everything over to someone else, they become addicts. The ones who feed them their addiction are the pushers. The addicts tune in to find out if everything is going to be alright. Pushers spoon feeding the addicts chocolate pudding ratings laced with heroin contrived headlines. A good number of people have fallen for the spoon. Fear leaving their pusher and going straight. Listening to other media. Getting a world view. And God forbid, meeting the enemy to find out their side. Unfortunately the media wouldn't be this way if there wasn't a demand for them to tell people how to think. And so goes the cycle of pusher and addict. Supply and demand. The addict cannot live without the drug of fear based security. Everything is going to be ok as long as the pusher is in control. 

The problem is that these pushers are growing in numbers, while the numbers of addicts are growing exponentially. While there is a number of mankind who sit around in guffaw of the lure of the drug, there is a massive congregation of junkies. The drug blurring their vision, they don't even know who to hate anymore. And so since they cannot recognize a face, they simply hate everyone who has the same belief, color, sexual preference, country, and dress of your enemy. Mistrust all who bare the symbol of your enemy. Fear the stranger you cannot see under the burkha. Expect everyone to conform to your beliefs and moral values. Hate all opposed of your world view. Fear, hate, repeat. 

Did you listen to someone else? You're not thinking straight. Take your medicine. Be afraid. Be afraid. Be afraid. The first one is free. Stay tuned.

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You really have to dare to stick your neck out. You really have to dare to say what you believe in. It takes a lot of guts to voice your opinion and stand strong. Resolute. In order to hold your head up high, you'll need a strong neck to remain true to yourself. But be prepared for when you do stick your neck out. It only makes you taller and easier to spot when they come with the guillotine. 

You're going to shake some feathers. You're going to step on some toes. Throughout the ages, those who have dared to speak their mind have born the burden of becoming a troublemaker. For standing up for what they believed in, they were targeted, martyred, exiled. Not everyone who stood up for what they believed in was a good person. They simply had the louder voice. The voice that was simply easier to agree with. They were good at the art of manipulation. That doesn't make them taller. It doesn't make their spine firm and straight. And they aren't remembered for the good things they stood up for. Or even having a spine, let alone a neck.

How to spot the difference? The one sticking their neck out for what they believe in stands alone. While the one who sticks their neck out for their own personal gain stand surrounded by those who dare not to take a stand at all. 

So, what's the point? you ask. The point is simple. By standing by what you believe in even after you've been beheaded, you'll still have your self respect intact. And you know what? Your neck will grow back. 

"Come and get me."

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Zoom forward fifteen years. I'd say this.

Don't mistake lust for love. Don't mistake love for hate. Don't mistake masochism for love. Don't mistake want for need. Nor assume that love can be replaced or fed by something else rather quickly. Love is not something you can possess or own. Love does not punish. Love is a place that no one can tarnish. Not even by the one you love. For real love does not come and go. It stays with you forever. It doesn't have a switch and it does not judge. It doesn't want to change you, nor does it expect you to remain the same forever. Love is not something that can be bought or shared. Love doesn't want to trap you or keep you bound. It's not something that can be read through poems or heard in songs. It's unique to you and no one can tell you when it is not real. Don't mistake passion for love. For when you truly get the opportunity to feel love and loved, you know you can never return to anything else. It often reveals itself in retrospect, so be open to it while it might be there to experience it. Don't be afraid to be loved even if it makes you ache. No other species can experience that ache for a reason. Consider yourself blessed. Follow your heart and it will show you what real love is. For even after you've lost the one you love, the love will last in your heart forever and remind you that there is a reason to believe in it. Don't let love pass you by.

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To the sea where I played as a child.
Find the edge where the waters rise
to reach my hand accept the cold.
This was where we used to go.

Winter the wind blows and so does his love go.

Cold embrace reminding me of him
whose distance kept me
Peaceful calm but underneath it all
the unchangeable surface.

Winter the wind blows and so does his love go.

Winter she blew
And the stillness came too.
And ice froze the surface
And riddled it blue.
White now and shivering.
Can't stop the wondering.
Of what happens to me
when the surface gets cold.

Winter the wind blows and so does his love go.

Down below my father's fate roams
This place where he calls home
Mourn regret float up to meet the snow
Telling me to go.

Winter the wind blows and so does his love go.

Winter she blew
And the stillness came too.
In the end was the surface 
All I ever knew
Frozen and gone
Leaving this song
What happens to the little things
When the surface gets cold?

©nicoleöstman2010

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Even blindfolded, you know the bullet is aimed right at you. You don't have to have vision to know when you're standing in a path that will lead to something bad. We have this built in radar for knowing when we are standing in harms way.

But is that feeling instinct or simply fear? Where does fear come from, but from the unknown? The unknown path. The unknown stranger. The unknown fear of the unknown. Like a mother bear and her young, how does she know that the children in the woods aren't going to attack her babies? She's just reacting out of fear. She has no idea the children would never hurt her babies. She's just reacting on instinct. Fear of the unknown. And so she's dancing with the trigger. She's been there before. She knows what the smell of human is like and she can associate that with bullets. Humans and bullets must smell the same bitter metal smell in her sensitive nostrils.

You can't blame the bear for lashing out. You can't blame the bear for protecting her young. But you can't blame the children either for wanting to hug the cute little baby bears that reminded them of their teddy's back home.

Don't hate the bear for doing what she must. Don't hate the children for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not anyone's fault. It's just a mauled fatal story that leaves everyone feeling bad.

And because the two shall never be able to mix. The bear and the children are now divided by a glass, but are living worlds apart.

Animal Instinction to keep from Animal Extinction. If only they could play together without fear. I wonder what kind of world that would be.

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There is an ancient chinese proverb that says, An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break. What if it's not a red thread at all? What if it was a string of xmas lights instead?

Every year you pull down the required xmas decorations to prepare for the yearly customary decorating. You pull down the box marked 'Lights' with a bit of anxiety. You tried so hard to make sure that the next time you pulled this box down, you would see no difference from the moment you packed it. Cleanly entwined just as you left it. But for some reason, beyond logic, beyond physics, time has managed to turn everything into a tangled web of nonsense that will take you ages to unravel. Yet, unraveling the past is the tradition you have become accustomed to. That's why you have anxiety about it. It's never a comfortable process.

You start at the end and slowly start to work your way through the jungle of cable. Working your way past each light. Checking as you go to make sure the light is securely fastened. Pulling and tugging as you go, the maze of cable becomes more and more clear. What once was a mishmash of knots, is slowly becoming an untangled and beautiful wire of light. You understand everything so much better when it's all over.

Sometimes it feels like we're just bumping and tangling into one another. Every day we encounter hundreds of people throughout our day. You don't even notice the ones who never make an impression. You notice the ones who leave knots in your path. If you were carrying a red thread from the moment you woke until the moment you laid your head to bed, you can imagine the tangled mishmash you'd wind up with. It's nicer imagining it was a mishmash of xmas lights. Because then you could simply just plug in the end and light your way back to the beginning. And you might possibly see things differently as you untangle the mesh making memories stronger, knots harder to swallow, and something beautiful to look at.

Happy Untangling!

Lonely bike is not so lonely anymore.

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Self inflicted role play is no fun when you don't have a safety word established. The idea of becoming a parent is one of many a woman's fantasy. It is a role many a woman want's to try on for size. Test. Give it a whirl. However, few realize that it's not something you can simply try on and step away from. What happens to you when you become the role you just wanted to play?

I think it's completely natural for a modern woman to want everything in life. Kids, work, a social life. So, when a woman realizes she is with child, she is suddenly transported into the role of becoming "mommy" and thus transforms herself in preparation for the coming child. It's completely natural. It's what we're born to do. Procreate. Something we are not aware of is how we can get completely wrapped up in the role that we wind up losing who we are as women before we stepped into the role of "mommy".

No matter what anyone tells you, having a child changes everything. It not only changes your way of living, it changes how the world perceives you. And thus how you perceive yourself. It's not completely uncommon for a woman who was once a wife, girlfriend, best friend and lover to become simply "mommy". Can only be viewed as "mommy" and nothing else. All that other stuff is in the past. Some women are OK with this new found role. I have a feeling, most women who have been thrust uterous first into the role aren't quite sure how to maintain their original personal identity while balancing being a mother. When a woman realizes that she doesn't recognize herself anymore when she looks at the mirror and sees only the person she has become, she will long to find the person she was before having children. It's completely natural. Just because you are a mother, doesn't mean you have to abandon who you are.

You can only control how others perceive you by how you perceive yourself. If you percieve yourself as simply "mommy", you cannot expect others to see you for anything more than that. They also will forget how you could talk about anything besides diaper rash and going from liquids to solid foods. You had an identity before. You lost it. You became "mommy". But you are still you. You are just you who is also a mother. The danger is you can wind up in a rather unhappy situation. No one is happy if mommy isn't happy. If you have been playing the role of mommy for long enough, you can't expect others to remember who you were before if you don't. Don't be too hard on the people around you while you go on the search for you, pre-child. She's still there. Under the layers of dirty laundry. She's there. And she's ready to be seen as wife, girlfriend, best friend, lover. Again.

Don't set yourself up for role play without a safety word. You can be whoever you want to be. You can be whatever you want to be. You can be everything you want to be. Everyone has the right to be the person they want others to think they are.

The safety word is "me". Don't forget it.

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Hurt people are covered in bandages and run with scissors. What a complex situation. The irony of human nature is that in order to feel superior you have to level the playing field around you. In order to level the playing field you need to cut down those around you to your own level. You take your scissors and cut them off at the ankles. I guess this makes it easier to see above others thinking you can look down on them. But instead of looking down on them, you're seeing them eye to eye.

What happens when you have cut someone down to your level and you're staring at the white of their eyes? Do you feel better about yourself? Can you handle looking or do you look away? Do you run away the moment you realize that you've gained nothing out of pulling them downward? Or does the white of their eyes reflect the disgust you feel with your own ways?

The internet is a very safe place to cut other people down. Yet, in the realm of black and white code, the images of bitterness and self loathing is not as easily camouflaged as it is in the real world. Where in the real world you can stand amongst others who support your beliefs, but in the internet world you have to stand amongst millions of online viewers who may have a difference of opinion. How do you feel now that you are no longer alone with your beliefs? Can you stand equally as firm? I bet you can. Because online you don't have to look at the white of people's eyes. In fact I bet you can feel even stronger when you cut at people's internet ankles. There is no one looking back at you to reflect the monster inside you. It's so much easier to cut people online than it is in real life. So much safer. No more need to have to reflect upon yourself and your choices. You didn't like the outcome? Suddenly you can delete your comment. Just like it never happened. 

If you can't handle saying the exact same things to someone eye to reflective eye as you would online, then maybe you should think twice before pulling out your scissors. Do you really want to go around in life cutting at people just to make yourself feel taller?

If only real life had a delete button.

Photo: Suren Manvelya

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The Red Thread by Nicole Östman

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The past. No matter how much we try to shake it, it's always there. One second behind you.

It can feel like a thief and rob you of all of your energy and leave you paralyzed. It can feel like a virus and poison every vein of emotion within you. It can remind you of a cat who sneaks up out of nowhere to scratch at your eyes leaving you blind. The past can try to trip you up, block your path, knock you back, pull you down, drown you. Control you. 

The past. It's just that. One second ago. In reality it's no more significant one second ago then it was ten years ago or more. It's not the past that we fear, but the choices we made in the past that we dress up as scary monsters coming out to get us. There's no such thing as monsters. We are the only monsters that can exist in this life. We can rob others of their energy. We can poison others with our own hatefulness and negativity. We can lash out at others trying to scratch their eyes out. We can try to trip people up, block their path, knock them back, pull them down, drown each other. It's the thing we're all good at. Being monsters. We dress ourselves up for Halloween and pretend it's the one time out of the year that we all agree it's OK to be a monster. A novelty, even. 

Why do we do it? Why do we thrive on other people's misery so much? Do we gain anything out of tearing someone down? Do we feel satisfied if we change someone's world view to match our own? Leave them wounded, confused, lost. In order to be happy do we really need to make sure everyone else around us is more unhappy than us? What makes us claw at other people hoping to destroy them? Only the monster knows what created them. 

The past. It's nothing to be afraid of. It's the monster inside we should be more wary of. It may be one second behind you for a reason. It's close enough to whisper to you the differences between right and wrong. Listen to the past. Then maybe you can hang up your Halloween mask 364 days out of the year and dust it off when it's time to be a novelty.

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Taking a long look at the construction of the hands it's easy to see that they were never meant to hold water.

In the desert the water is precious. And when you are feeling as if you have walked the depths of the desert to finally reach the oasis, you scramble. You never thought you'd be so happy to see water in your whole life. Oh, how you took it for granted when you had it in abundance. Oh, how you neglected to drink it when you had it. It's just water. The world is full of it. Plenty more where that came from.

You don't wind up in the desert prepared. You don't strategically plan your life so that around the age of 30 you are going to spend five years in the desert. So, you aren't packed and ready. These things aren't planned. You take one step too many and then your toes are in the sand. But instead of realizing you could be here for a while... you just keep walking. You think it's just going to be a couple days. You're strong. You can handle the desert. Life is good, you could use a little break. Sand means beach and beach means good times.

You are overwhelmed by the time you realize you've tarried [ ] days [ ] months [ ] years* with the heat and dry sand to wind up at the foot of perfect water. Your first reaction is to bend down and scoop the water into your mouth. Heaping mouthfuls of water as much as the hands you were given can possibly flush in. Dropping precious drops of clean water into the sand. Wasted. You realize this and suddenly you feel like you need to protect this valuable resource. In the desert there are no glasses. What now? How do you protect that which is suddenly so precious?

Maybe you wouldn't have to carry it if you never left it. Jump in the water. Appreciate the water and respect the fact that it could be taken away from you at any time. Why leave something so precious?

*X where applied

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http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1644624

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I don't need to be reminded
of how human that I am
I don't need to talk about
what I don't understand
I don't really need to be
the one who is always wrong
What I need is to be accepted
by the people that I hold

usually I already know
sometimes I even tell you so

I don't need to think the same
as everybody else
I don't need to follow what
someone else has said
I don't have to do what
you think I should do
just because you chose me
that should be good enough for you

If we were all the same
what a lonely place it'd be
Not a voice of dissuasion
of how it really oughta be
We'd all be one great big
unhappy family
When there isn't any room
for thinking for the free

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sinking boats cry for a paddle

a hand outstretched that hides a dagger

tv screens with static play

this is just another day

tongues are spoken in capitals

cow milk sours in gravy bowls

golden geese forgot to lay

goat's sins placed upon display

candles burn on window sills

of alabaster capital hills

as puppet masters pulling sing

puppet dolls pull on pocket strings

dimming human tears have climbed

a hollow reminder of warring crimes

failing all the ladder rungs

falling pile of kingdom come

filling canyons flow deceit 

till the brim runneth to the shining sea

the land of plenty pales in dust

amber waves have turned to rust

the land that God forgot in trust

is weeping upon her royal bust

till nobel men reign once again

I shall not return until then

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Finally, the book design is completed. This book has taken me about seven months to produce and I'm getting so close now I can almost feel it in my hands. Thank you to Carlis Fridlund who took the photography for this book. What a great talent. 

See the full gallery on Posterous

See the full gallery on Posterous

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