<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9936516</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:28:40.274-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Notes from Here </title><subtitle type='html'>It's my blog, see.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neilroberts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9936516/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neilroberts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Neil Roberts' Notes from Here</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18311135049783901274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9936516.post-110669092401480067</id><published>2005-01-25T13:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-28T01:08:45.776-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nurse Acupuncture Please</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"You can put your clothes on now," she said after deneedling me. I opened my eyes as she walked out of the room, but felt no different at that point. Little I did know that while I had lain there and quietly amazed myself by not panicking, a puddle of of endorphins had pooled at the back of my head. When I sat upright on the table, the puddle sloshed forward into the rest of brain and it was as if oil, sweet oil had lubricated the grinding frictions of my head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Whoa..." was my initial thought, though I did not mean it literally. On the contrary, would that it could always be like this. It was a pleasant state but not euphoric, profound but not intoxicating. No, I was not La La Land. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The me-that-is-me was a translucent but slightly gold tented sphere in the middle of mind. I could easily dodge stress bullets coming at me. They seemed to come in slow motion and all I had to do was to move ever so slightly and gracefully to let it pass then ease back to the center. I held no grudge against the stresses. They couldn't help it. That was clear to me. Why should I have ill feelings toward them when dodging them was such childplay?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I put on my shirt and shoes and met the nurse in the office. She asked how I felt. There was a whoa factor in play I responded - as if she couldn't tell. Then she gave me some advice. I'll paraphrase the recommendations of the good nurse: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sleep properly. Eat food that is good for you. Don't eat or drink things that are bad for you. Manage stress. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O.K. I've heard all that before. Yet now I was like the freshly baptized getting a few friendly scriptural admonitions from a pastor I trusted not to let water go up my nose. None did, so I'll try to be good - or at least better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After a short but beautiful drive home, I felt the call of sleep, sweet sleep, and the me-that-is-me understood this to be all well and good to allow. I let the wave of the fourth dimension do what it would because it would have to do it without me for awhile.&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9936516-110669092401480067?l=neilroberts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neilroberts.blogspot.com/feeds/110669092401480067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9936516&amp;postID=110669092401480067' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9936516/posts/default/110669092401480067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9936516/posts/default/110669092401480067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neilroberts.blogspot.com/2005/01/nurse-acupuncture-please.html' title='Nurse Acupuncture Please'/><author><name>Neil Roberts' Notes from Here</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18311135049783901274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9936516.post-110509924880294466</id><published>2005-01-07T02:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-09T02:51:02.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Dig This Title Because It's So Utterly Huge</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     Supposedly, it's all about spiritual development. Whether that's an end or the means to some other end, I don't have a f*#@ing clue. Some smart-ass will always bring it down to it all being it, and I mean how can you argue with that? The problem is, it leaves you with nothing to talk about. It's a black hole that sucks in all the particulars that make for a good letter to Penthouse, for instance, and leaves you with nothing to discuss. You either have to sit there and think "Wow, that's really a trip," or try to find a non-material excuse to leave the room and eat. And hey smart-ass, there is no distinction between material and spiritual anyway. [If this thing could do footnotes that last bit would have been one.] &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     None-the-less, and since it's probably true, damn it, I'll try to keep that in the back of my mind. But I'm going to choose to look at spiritual development as a &lt;em&gt;means&lt;/em&gt; instead, because a) I'm a fool, b) one can tell stories that way, and c) the worst case scenario is that I'm wrong so, oh well, it was all part of my spiritual development. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Besides, if you don't like it, get your own damn page. And I'm not being hostile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So, this is going &lt;em&gt;somewhere&lt;/em&gt; if you lean towards "means", or &lt;em&gt;nowhere&lt;/em&gt; if you favor "ends". Just pretend you believe it's means. At least give me that. You can go back to your way when you're done. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     Plus, the other way won't get you laid, even if you're married. [That last bit should have been a footnote, too.]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;     Anyway, there once was a bunch of stuff - so much stuff in fact, they had to build and entire universe just to keep it. And it was somewhere there - just a bit to the left and down a bit - that there was this guy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9936516-110509924880294466?l=neilroberts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neilroberts.blogspot.com/feeds/110509924880294466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9936516&amp;postID=110509924880294466' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9936516/posts/default/110509924880294466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9936516/posts/default/110509924880294466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neilroberts.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-dig-this-title-because-its-so.html' title='I Dig This Title Because It&apos;s So Utterly Huge'/><author><name>Neil Roberts' Notes from Here</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18311135049783901274</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
