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Getting Real : Faith No More
Picking up the Feathers | from notyetdrunk - Thursday, October 30, 2008
accessed 330 times When I was a child I was read the story of the Pastors Pillow. For those of you who don't remember it, I will briefly tell it to you. The once was a very butting woman. That was how the story started. She told a lot of lies about her Pastor and felt guilty, so she went and asked his forgiveness. He took her to the belfry and ripped open his pillow and dumped out the feathers. "Of course I forgive you. Now I want you to do something for me. I want you to go and pick up all those feathers." The woman was aghast, "Pick up all those feathers? Why, that's impossible, they're everywhere." The story went on to say once you start a rumor it is hard to stop it.
I have not thought about this story in years. I have worked very hard to forget years of abuse. To go on in life as if it had never happened. For the most part I like to believe that I am stronger than my circumstances. My childhood does not have to follow me into adulthood.
For the most part that is true. I don't think about my past for weeks or even months at a time. I can pretend it never happened. But once in a while I come across those damn feathers. Those little seeds that were planted in me as a child that I have tried so hard to root out. That I will never be anything. That I am worthless. That I am powerless. That I am stupid. It doesn't matter how many feathers I may have managed to pick up and put back into my pillow case. There are more out there and I will never manage to get them all. |
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Reader's comments on this article Add a new comment on this article |  from celestej
Wednesday, November 12, 2008 - 04:17
(Agree/Disagree?)
I know what you mean. I've been having little flashbacks lately, of all of the abuse. Getting screamed at for the most insignificant things, spanked over nothing. I also can go for a long time without thinking about it, and blend in with all my "normal" friends that have had good childhoods, and its almost like I'm one of them and it never happened. But it seems like it's alway lurking there in the depths of my subconscious, waiting to resurface. There's a song by The Bravery called Time Won't Let Me Go that makes me cry. It's so beautiful, sad and appropriate for the way I feel about my childhood. Anyways, the thing that I've found that helps me the most lately is whenever I feel bad about myself or doubt my own worth, I force myself to remember specific incidents when I experienced physical, emotional or phsychological abuse as a child, and remember the feelings I experienced and tell myself very clearly and distinctly that it was wrong, they were wrong, and I did not ever deserve it. I even say it repeatedly out loud sometimes. This is a very healing excersise, try it.
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| from exfamily
Friday, November 07, 2008 - 14:31
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How about some moar epic lulz
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| | | | | | | | | | from another story
Friday, November 07, 2008 - 13:23
 (Agree/Disagree?)
Three wolves and six goats are discussing what to have for dinner. One courageous goat makes an impassioned case: “We should put it to a vote!” The other goats fear for his life but, surprisingly, the wolves acquiesce. But when everyone is preparing to vote, the wolves take three of the goats aside.
“Vote with us to make the other three goats dinner,” they threaten. “Otherwise, vote or no vote, we’ll eat you.”
The other three goats are shocked by the outcome of the election: a majority, including their comrades, has voted for them to be killed and eaten. They protest in outrage and terror, but the goat who first suggested the vote rebukes them: “Be thankful you live in a democracy! At least we got to have a say in this!”
.............
There was once an unfenced hill where a flock of sheep lived.
One rainy day, a man came to talk to them. "It's cold and wet here. How can you stand it?" he asked.
"It's not so bad," said the sheep. " We get up when we like, there's plenty to eat, and life is pretty good most of the time. It's raining now but we can just go under the trees if it gets too much. It will stop eventually. We have our freedom, and to us that's the most important thing."
"It looks awful," the man said. "And how do you know it will stop raining? It might go on for weeks. Your land might become swampy and all your grass might be washed away. Tell you what, there is a big building over there. It's warm and dry inside. I will make it let you in. It's only fair. You deserve better than this."
"Is there grass to eat?" the sheep asked.
"No, but I will make the building provide hay. I will make it provide a place to sleep and food to eat and you need do nothing to earn it. You'll be warm and dry and still you'll be free. Really, it's best to take my offer just in case, don't you think? Surely you can see it's for your benefit?"
Some of the sheep were suspicious. "What do you get out of it?"
"Me? Nothing." The man smiled. "And once in a while, I'll invite the most special of you to come and live in a special flock where life will be more wonderful than you have ever known. Of course, you won't all be able to join that flock at once but I promise, every one of you will pass through the Golden Doorway eventually."
The sheep considered. A few distrusted the man and refused to go with him, but most accepted his kind offer. They laughed and scoffed at those who chose to stay in the rain while they filed obediently into the man's dry, warm abbatoir.
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|  From another story..
Thursday, November 13, 2008, 16:17
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a celebrated traveler; He arrived one day in the midst of a tribee of savages, where a child had just been born. A crowd of soothsayers, magicians, and quacks - armed with rings, hooks, and cords - surrounded it. One said: "This child will never smell the perfume of a peace-pipe unless I stretch his nostrils." Another said: "He will never be able to hear unless I draw his earlobes down to his shoulders." A third said: "He will never see the sunshine unless I slant his eyes." Another said: "He will never stand upright unless I bend his legs." A fifth said: "He will never learn to think unless I flatten his skull."
"Stop," cried the traveler. "What God does is well done. Do not claim to know more than He. God has given organs to this frail creature; let them develop and grow strong by exercise, use, experience, and liberty."
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| | From scarface
Friday, November 07, 2008, 15:53
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Reminds me of our American democracy where blacks and middle class whites were turned against each other. The only people that truly benefited were those at the top. They twisted and downright lied about the Constitution (slaves worth 3/5 of a person but still couldn’t vote). They disenfranchised poor white voters by imposing “literacy” tests on them. At the same time sowing seeds of hate and bigotry so that they would attack each other and not see the forest for by being to close to the trees. And we wonder why our country is so fucked up. The only thing we learn from history is that we never learn from history.
God I hate this country.
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| | from Haunted
Friday, November 07, 2008 - 11:17
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wow - havent thought of that story in years either...great analogy though
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| from exfamily
Saturday, November 01, 2008 - 00:56
(Agree/Disagree?)
Wow, long time since I last thought of that story. Why was she a "butting woman"? Did she say "but" a lot?
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