The entire purpose of this blog is for me to write when I want to write but don't know about what to write. Right? Right. Two things preoccupy me, the resulting clash of ideas being the reason for my blog's name and this particular blog's title: This is what comes of Steven Dowdle meditating. I can't tell if I irritate myself with the audacity of assuming that my thoughts are worthwhile, or if they simply irritate me because I have no audience to validate it. At least, with a blog, I can pretend that someone reads. So far, no one has. But enough wading through the pity pool; on to the preoccupations, both of which are related but come from different spheres. The first is my maternal grandfather, who is burning up with a fever at UVRMC in Provo right now, held in the cusp of life and death by the skilled nurses and doctors and surgeons who are trying to find out what is infecting him, and how to rectify the situation. The second is a line I just read from the incredibly
Personal musings of Steven Dowdle