McKenty Books Selection: Polly of Bridgewater Farm

January 29, 2015
OLA Conference – Toronto
Neil’s books are going to be at the OLA Conference (McKenty Live !, The Inside story, The Other Keys and Skiing Legend) and also the new edition of Polly
At Booth T22
—-

What a splendid book … what a delightful story. The bibliography and illustrations give it the right air of authenticity. The book is very educational – all those who read it will hardly notice they are being taught … the author is a superb storyteller! I could feel the slushy peat field … I could smell the rain coming.

Marianna O’Gallagher
Authority on Grosse Île and its preservation as an Irish monument
Quebec City, Canada

Novel outline

How in the world did Polly Noble, a bubbly little girl with freckles, born just outside Dromore in January 1837, live to become the subject of a biography more than a century later in Toronto?

Little Polly steps out - illustration from the book

This is the story of an idylic irish childhood torn asunder by the famine of 1847, and the trials of emigration to a new life in Canada. It was on her father’s farm, on the old Coach Road between Dromore and Enniskillen, that Polly spent an idyllic two years with her parents, George and Jane Noble. Then Disaster struck. On January 6, 1839, the infamous ‘Big Wind’ rose out of the sea and swept across Ireland, wailing like a thousand banshees. It flattened whole villages, burned down farm houses, and finally killed her father. It changed Polly’s life forever. Two years later, Polly’s mother, Jane, married William Fleming, the handsome widower across the road at Bridgewater Farm. Soon Polly began to walk back and forth the mile or so to the one-room school run by the Kildare Society in Dromore. But she found time to plant potatoes, milk the cows, look after the goats, pull flax, chase the hens and run bare-foot in the meadows. Then disaster struck again, this time the potato crop failed and famine and typhus threatened Bridgewater Farm. Like thousands of Irish people, the Flemings decided they must escape. They packed what they could, travelling by horse and cart to Londonderry/Derry, and drinking in their last views of the green fields and hills of Ireland. On May 14, 1847, along with 418 other passengers, they boarded the three-masted sailing ship ‘Sesostris’. Only 10 years old, Polly was on her way to a new life in Canada. After an appalling voyage, during which some of the passengers, including Polly’s darling little brother and sister died, they docked at Grosse-Île, the quarantine station on the St. Lawrence River, about an hour from Quebec. After three years in Montreal, where she met her future husband, Polly was now ready for her next adventure in a vast unknown land called Canada. Her destiny would be linked with a dozen children who had lost their mothers, one of them a future mayor of Toronto.

How to order click below

cover-inside

About the author

Polly of Bridgewater Farm: An Unknown Irish Story was written by Catharine Fleming McKenty. Catharine is the granddaughter of four-time mayor of Toronto, R.J. Fleming; younger brother of Aunt “Polly” Noble Verner, who ran the Cabbagetown Store, in Toronto during the late 1800s.

Review

Polly of Bridgewater Farm – A review by Barbara Canella (nee Ennis) published in the Tyrone Constitution Thursday 13th May, 2010

I picked up a copy of this delightful book during the St. Patrick’s Day celebration at Concordia University in Montreal. It is a wonderful, gentle book about a subject that was a painful time in Irish history. It tells an ageless story of famine amidst plenty but without bitterness or prejudice. It is definitely a book for our times when Irish people, both north and south of the border, have moved beyond the violence caused by bigotry. Written by a Canadian with a great story to tell of her ancestry, there are hints of the innocence of “Anne of Green Gables” in her treatment of Polly’s poignant story. The descriptions of a day in the bog in Ireland conjure up fond memories of my own childhood there in the mid-twentieth century. At school in Ireland, we learned the misery of famine and this treatment by Catharine Fleming McKenty is refreshingly optimistic. The ending is crying out for a sequel. Although there is “Cabbagetown Store” by John McAree (available on the web at http://www.crpmuseum.com/index.php?article=40) which I have not read, I yearn for the continuing story as told from the perspective of Polly’s grand-niece. I hope that Catharine and Cabbagetown Press will seize this opportunity. The publication is also extraordinary in its paper quality, archival photos, illustrations and bindings.

A wonderful book for all age groups, it would make a great addition to the libraries of schools in Ireland.

Neil recounts his time on TV

January 28, 2015

After returning from Ireland in the summer of 1987, where the John Main biography had been launched at Trinity College, I was astonished to receive a telephone call from a senior program producer at CFCF television, Don McGowan, a well-known Montreal television personality in his own right. Over lunch at the garden café of the Ritz-Carlton, McGowan asked me if I would be interested in doing a live talk show on television, a sort of poor man’s Larry King Live. McGowan would provide a chauffeur-driven limousine to pick me up each morning (impressive for the neighbours) and an extensive new wardrobe (a delight for Catharine who never approved of my doing radio in a scruffy T-shirt).

04-28-2013-4

Neil on set at CFCF

Of course I jumped at the opportunity, and in September 1987, we went on air with Montreal’s first English live call-in television program, McKenty Live. Television is more cumbersome and complicated than radio, but for the next three years I had a lot of fun – the limousine with a bar, telephone and TV set in the back seat; the warmth and soft hands in the make-up room; a small, friendly staff. During the three years we had some remarkable guests: the famous sexologist, Dr. Ruth, who was so tiny she had to sit on a Montreal telephone directory; Canada’s chief negotiator, Louis Reisman, with whom I had a ferocious argument on free trade two days before the federal election; and René Lévesque, the only guest who not only smoked, but offered a cigarette to everyone in the crew. Only a week later, this man whom I liked very much, died of a heart attack. René Lévesque’s last appearance in public might well have been on McKenty Live.

Neil and a  guess at CFCF

Although I enjoyed McKenty Live and my associates on the program, Daniel Freedman, Wendy Helfenbaum and Bernie Peissel, at the end of the third season, I decided to leave the program. My reasoning was: I would be repeating programs we had already done; some of my associates were being changed; I wanted to do some more writing, perhaps a book on Catharine’s grandfather, onetime mayor of Toronto; and both Catharine and I were busy with the Benedictine Priory and meditation. So in June 1990, I left CFCF television.

from the Inside Story.

Tuesday Writing Conversation: Telling Our Stories

January 27, 2015

Click below to hear an episode of Exchange ‘What’s on your mind?’

Tuesday Writing Conversation

Catharine writes;

One of my interests is to encourage young people to write and share their ideas.

Since a young age, I wanted to write. When I started with my first story I kept it under wraps – I was afraid my teacher would laugh at me. Have you got anything stashed away?

What is your experience of your early writing attempts?

Did you get any help from a teacher?

What’s your experience in telling our stories?

Little Polly steps out - illustration from my book Polly of Bridgewater Farm

Little Polly steps out – illustration from my book Polly of Bridgewater Farm

McKenty Books Selection: Polly of Bridgewater Farm

January 26, 2015

What a splendid book … what a delightful story. The bibliography and illustrations give it the right air of authenticity. The book is very educational – all those who read it will hardly notice they are being taught … the author is a superb storyteller! I could feel the slushy peat field … I could smell the rain coming.

Marianna O’Gallagher
Authority on Grosse Île and its preservation as an Irish monument
Quebec City, Canada

Novel outline

How in the world did Polly Noble, a bubbly little girl with freckles, born just outside Dromore in January 1837, live to become the subject of a biography more than a century later in Toronto?

Little Polly steps out - illustration from the book

Little Polly steps out – illustration from the book

This is the story of an idylic irish childhood torn asunder by the famine of 1847, and the trials of emigration to a new life in Canada. It was on her father’s farm, on the old Coach Road between Dromore and Enniskillen, that Polly spent an idyllic two years with her parents, George and Jane Noble. Then Disaster struck. On January 6, 1839, the infamous ‘Big Wind’ rose out of the sea and swept across Ireland, wailing like a thousand banshees. It flattened whole villages, burned down farm houses, and finally killed her father. It changed Polly’s life forever. Two years later, Polly’s mother, Jane, married William Fleming, the handsome widower across the road at Bridgewater Farm. Soon Polly began to walk back and forth the mile or so to the one-room school run by the Kildare Society in Dromore. But she found time to plant potatoes, milk the cows, look after the goats, pull flax, chase the hens and run bare-foot in the meadows. Then disaster struck again, this time the potato crop failed and famine and typhus threatened Bridgewater Farm. Like thousands of Irish people, the Flemings decided they must escape. They packed what they could, travelling by horse and cart to Londonderry/Derry, and drinking in their last views of the green fields and hills of Ireland. On May 14, 1847, along with 418 other passengers, they boarded the three-masted sailing ship ‘Sesostris’. Only 10 years old, Polly was on her way to a new life in Canada. After an appalling voyage, during which some of the passengers, including Polly’s darling little brother and sister died, they docked at Grosse-Île, the quarantine station on the St. Lawrence River, about an hour from Quebec. After three years in Montreal, where she met her future husband, Polly was now ready for her next adventure in a vast unknown land called Canada. Her destiny would be linked with a dozen children who had lost their mothers, one of them a future mayor of Toronto.

How to order click below

cover-inside

About the author

Polly of Bridgewater Farm: An Unknown Irish Story was written by Catharine Fleming McKenty. Catharine is the granddaughter of four-time mayor of Toronto, R.J. Fleming; younger brother of Aunt “Polly” Noble Verner, who ran the Cabbagetown Store, in Toronto during the late 1800s.

 

Review

Polly of Bridgewater Farm – A review by Barbara Canella (nee Ennis) published in the Tyrone Constitution Thursday 13th May, 2010

I picked up a copy of this delightful book during the St. Patrick’s Day celebration at Concordia University in Montreal. It is a wonderful, gentle book about a subject that was a painful time in Irish history. It tells an ageless story of famine amidst plenty but without bitterness or prejudice. It is definitely a book for our times when Irish people, both north and south of the border, have moved beyond the violence caused by bigotry. Written by a Canadian with a great story to tell of her ancestry, there are hints of the innocence of “Anne of Green Gables” in her treatment of Polly’s poignant story. The descriptions of a day in the bog in Ireland conjure up fond memories of my own childhood there in the mid-twentieth century. At school in Ireland, we learned the misery of famine and this treatment by Catharine Fleming McKenty is refreshingly optimistic. The ending is crying out for a sequel. Although there is “Cabbagetown Store” by John McAree (available on the web at http://www.crpmuseum.com/index.php?article=40) which I have not read, I yearn for the continuing story as told from the perspective of Polly’s grand-niece. I hope that Catharine and Cabbagetown Press will seize this opportunity. The publication is also extraordinary in its paper quality, archival photos, illustrations and bindings.

A wonderful book for all age groups, it would make a great addition to the libraries of schools in Ireland.

McKenty Books Feature: Polly of Bridgewater Farm

January 24, 2015

Polly of Bridgewater Farm: An Unknown Irish Story was written by Catharine Fleming McKenty. Catharine is the granddaughter of four-time mayor of Toronto, R.J. Fleming; younger brother of Aunt “Polly” Noble Verner, who ran the Cabbagetown Store, in Toronto during the late 1800s.

This semi-fictional account of Polly’s early days follows her from her birth just outside Dromore, Ireland in 1837; her survival of the Big Wind of January 6th 1839; the Irish Potato Famine in the 1840s; and the May 14th 1847 crossing of the Atlantic; to the family’s arrival at Grosse-Île near Quebec. The Canadian portion of her journey takes her first to Montreal, and then to Toronto where she married a young tailor, John Verner. Together they set up their business, later described by John McAree in his book, Cabbagetown Store. 

cover-inside 

This 240-page book, although fiction is based on actual historical events and people. There are 36-pages of colour, which include illustrations of scenes from the time, as well as family photographs. Original illustrations were created by Polish artists, Darek and Elzbieta Wieczorek.

This is a great book to teach about Irish and Canadian history and has interest to many because of the inherent and global theme of migration. This is an inspiring story of hope amidst despair.

To find out more about the book or to purchase a copy click here.

Maple Syrup Fortress

January 23, 2015

Did you know that maple syrup is so valuable that there is a fortress to protect a strategic reserve. It is in Laurierville, Quebec, where the compound is known as ‘la forteresse du sirop d’érable’ and was built in response to a series of thefts from unsecured maple syrup warehouses.

Maple syrup is a niche product but in such high demand that that a barrel of it is worth more than a hundred barrels of oil.

Neil wrestled with the subject below.

From the blog in 2011:

Catharine and I often have brunch at a well-known Montreal restaurant named Beauty’s.  We always order the same items.  Fresh orange juice, blueberry pancakes and bacon.  Catharine orders the more  expensive real maple syrup.  I use the regular table syrup and it is perfectly satisfactory to me.

It is true, however, that it is all too easy to misrepresent real maple syrup.  Rigtht now two American senators have a bill in the hopper that would impose tougher sanctions for the marketing of  other syrups as maple syrup.

Table syrup is sickly sweet.  While maple syrup may be expensive, even a small amount transforms a plain waffle or pancake, a simple slice of ham or cube of tofu, or a mustardy salad dressing.

But does Canada do enough to protect maple syrup?  Quebec forbids the use of the word “maple”  or of maple-leaf shapes or pictures, on any bottle that does not contain 100 per-cent pure maple syrup.   But Quebec is the only province that does this?  Some restaurants still pass off inferior syrups and most customers do not notice or they acquiesce.

Should there be more protection for pure maple syrup?

Is there a difference between maple syrup and table syrup?

What do you think?

Neil reviews two books on Kennedy for the Toronto Star

January 22, 2015

Click below to hear JFK discussed on Exchange.

From the Toronto Star:

Two books on John Kennedy
Johnny We Hardly Knew Ye
The Kennedy Promise

Maudlin memories and a critique

By NEIL McKENTY

Sooner or later the law of dimin­ishing returns will begin to operate for readers of books about John Kennedy. Maybe it’s operating al­ready. But I’m ready to give John­ny We Hardly Knew Ye the benefit of the doubt.

Kenneth O’Connell, appointments secretary for Camelot, as the Ken­nedy regime came to be called, and Dave Powers, court jester and friend-in-waiting, have strung to­gether these “memories.” mostly of an anecdotal nature, with the help of ghost-writer, Joe. McCarthy.

The title is maudlin (like much of the book) and doubly ironic because at. the end of more than 400 pages that once again touch all the bases from Boston to Balias, we really don’t know that, much more about the first Roman Catholic president of the United States. Some of the things we do learn are not nearly as flattering as the authors appar­ently intended.

One of their central themes is to portray Kennedy as “the most skill­ful politician of his generation.” To this purpose, Kennedy’s political ca­reer is charted through the mists and bogs of Irish Catholic politics in Massachussets. Here he encoun­ters weird and wonderful pols like James M. Curley. Knocko Mc­Cormack, Onions Burke, Freddy Blip and Pat Lynch. Energetic but naive in his first run for Congress in 1946, starry-eyed Jack Kennedy was bloodied in Boston’s back wards in some of the most vicious political in-fignting this side of Tammany Hall.

It was in south Boston that Ken­nedy learned to make deals with rival political factions, then watch, safely out of sight, while O’Donnell and other hatchetmen blatantly re­pudiated them. After listening to O’Donnell tell a bare-faced lie on the telephone to a political rival, Kennedy remarked: “That was pretty good. A nice performance. Not bad at ail.”

Still, though these Kennedy mem­ories are too long, too banal and never critical (except of JFK’s ene­mies), they do have their moments of poignancy especially Kennedy’s thoughtfulness for others though he was constantly in pain from an injured back the last eight years of his life. *

If nothing else, Johnny We Hard­ly Knew Ye. is a sad reminder that there’s less laughter and more folly along the Potomac now than there was during the short time Johnny Kennedy was there.

The Kennedy Promise

This is a fascinating, provocative and, in some ways, a brilliant book. Where Johnny We Hardly Knew Ye is all heart. The Kennedy Promise is cerebral without being academic.

Henry Fairlie (a respected British journalist who has lived in Washington since 1965) claims that Cam­elot was a charade—a glittering and theatrical performance that failed to deliver the goods.

Fairlie’s thesis is that John Ken­nedy and his cohorts followed “a political method which was always bound to mislead even as it fatally attracts.” This method was fatally flawed because it induced the American people lo believe that their every need, both sacred and profane was susceptible “to a politi­cal solution.”

In practice this meant that a manageable situation was perceived as a potential crisis to be inflated by Kennedy rhetoric which in turn provided the springboard for ac­tion: “And what (Kennedy) meant by action was a spectacular display of his power in a situation of maxi­mum peril as he defined it.”

So, as Fairlie defines them, were the confrontations over Cuba. Ber­lin. Laos. Viet Nam. Alabama and the steel crisis. Promise was cele­brated as performance and domes lie problems—civil rights, education —were ignored in favor of the larg­er stage of foreign affairs.

So did John Kennedy, who per­sonalized the presidency beyond any o’ his predecessors with the possible exception of Theodore Roosevelt, pursue his “imperial pretensions.” Efficiency was found in process; options were confused with choice, success with achieve­ment and tough-mindedness was re­garded as proof of strength.

As I have said this is valuable and intriguing book. It peels the charm and glamor from Camelot. By so doing it provides a necessary antidote to the bushels of laudatory tomes that have almost apotheosized the Kennedy brothers. Much of what Fairlie says with such clarity and grace should be said to redress he balance.

But it is supremely ironic that many of the faults attributed here to Kennedy, the president, can also be charged to Fairlie. the writer- historian. The author makes the fatal mistake of many rhetoricians making their argument—he proves too much. He does so by inflating or deflating situations suit his purpose, by constructing straw men and by succumbing to the very negligence he accuses Kennedy of —an ignorance of history Surely Franklin Roosevelt. Eisen­hower (a favorite of Fairlie’s). and Johnson ran personal presidencies and Richard Nixon is pursuing an imperial one. Surely much of the tumult of the late ’60s, including the street riots, would have oc­curred had the Kennedy brothers never left Boston.

The Kennedy promise was indeed flawed. So, despite his engaging style and sometimes brilliant in­sights, is Fairlie’s book.

Neil McKenty is the author of Mitch Hepburn, a biography of the one-time premier of Ontario.

Johnny We Hardly Knew Ye, by Kenneth P. ODonnell and David F. Powers with Joe McCarthy, Little Brown, 434 pages, $10.

The Kennedy Promise, by Henry Fairlie, Doubleday, 376 pages, $9.25.

On A Cold Winter’s Night

January 21, 2015

Excerpt from the newly published McKenty Live! The Lines Are Still Blazing

Catharine writes :

It was an incredible privilege to share nearly 40 years of marriage with Neil. In the end, no matter what he could always make me laugh. I remember one particular December evening there in our beloved Farmhouse home in the heart of Victoria village. On dark nights like this one I always made sure to place candles of all sizes on an ancient dining room table (we had bought this one for $35 from neighbours who were moving out as we were moving in).

On this winter evening I had set a scrumptious Shepherd’s Pie in front of Neil so he could serve us both. As he reached across the table to hand me my plateful, the fuzzy sleeve of his bright red dressing gown caught fire. To my horror, the flames began to run up his arm. Neil calmly stood up, stepped our from the table and moved steadily towards the kitchen, saying calmly to me “Catharine, don’t panic!”

I followed him out to the kitchen, picked up a big green canister of flour from the counter and…

Read the full story in McKenty Live! The Lines Are Still Blazing

Neil_McKenty_Live_cover

Jan (Tucson Arizona) writes: “What a fascinating book – I couldn’t put it down. I don’t think I have ever met such an interesting person.

Click below to hear a ‘Laurels and Lemons‘ episode on Exchange.

Tuesday Writing Conversation: In The Stillness Dancing – The Life of Father John Main

January 20, 2015

From The Inside Story, Neil writes about how he came to write In the Stillness Dancing, The Life of Father John Main.

About this same time, despite a happy marriage and challenging jobs, Catharine and I felt there was something missing in our lives, a spiritual dimension of some kind. We began to search for a guide and, thanks to a word from a former Jesuit colleague, we discovered Dom John Main, a Benedictine monk who had come to Montreal in 1977 to start a meditation centre in a dilapidated house in Notre Dame de Grace. John Main, then about fifty, was a tall, impressive looking man with a military bearing, a ready wit – redolent of his beloved County Kerry, his family’s early home – and a voice modulated like an actor’s, which indeed, in another dispensation, he might have been.

John Main had been taught by the Jesuits. He had joined a British intelligence unit during the war, studied and taught law at Trinity College in Dublin, and spent a couple of years in Malaya in the mid’ 1950s with the British Civil Service. It was in Malaya that John Main’s interest in prayer was further developed by a Hindu swami who taught him silent meditation using a sacred word, or mantra. Much to his delight, after he became a Benedictine monk at Ealing in London – where the famous Trappist monk, Thomas Merton had been born – John Main discovered this form of silent meditation using a mantra was also deeply imbedded in the Christian tradition.

John Main

John Main

So it was to teach Christian meditation that John Main, accompanied by a young Benedictine associate, Laurence Freeman, came to Montreal at the invitation of Bishop Leonard Crowley. Catharine and I began going weekly to his talks and we started to meditate twice a day. One of the fruits of meditation that Catharine noticed was that my bursts of anger became less frequent and I was more relaxed and easier to live with. We continued our attendance after John Main moved his meditation centre to Pine Avenue, on the slopes of Mount Royal, into a large mansion, a magnificent gift of the McConnell Foundation. McConnell had been publisher of The Montreal Star. I remember spending one weekend there and generously offering to clean the carpets outside John Main’s room. Unfortunately, my cleaning was tying the carpets into knots. It was only when John Main himself came out to see what the trouble was that I discovered I was not using a carpet cleaner but a floor polisher.

Sadly, John Main was not able to develop the community he had hoped for at the Benedictine Priory on Pine Avenue. Cancer, which had been successfully treated in 1979, recurred, and he died at the early age of fifty-six on December 30, 1982. To my surprise, Dom Laurence Freeman O.S.B., John Main’s associate and his successor as Prior of the Benedictine community, asked me on the night of Father John’s death if I would be interested in writing John Main’s biography. I immediately agreed, and over the next three years our research took Catharine and me to Ireland and England. We also went to Washington, where John Main had been headmaster of a private boys’ school in the early seventies. The biography, In the Stillness Dancing, was published in London and New York in 1986 and again by Unitas Books in Montreal in 1995. It was well reviewed, and I have always been grateful to Father Laurence Freeman for giving me the opportunity to do it.

The cover of the Crossroads edition.

The blurb from the Crossroads edition (USA):

IN THE STILLNESS DANCING

The Life of Father John Main

On a February night in 1960 a Benedictine monk from Ealing Abbey in a suburb of London dropped by the Chelsea flat of an Old Trinity College friend. He stayed just long enough to change from his habit into evening dress. Then John Main left for the festivities at Gray’s Inn where he had been called to the Bar, the first English monk so honoured since the Reformation.

Who was this slim, tall young man just turned 34, with his sandy hair and piercing blue eyes who moved so easily from the spiritual world of Ealing to the secular temples of the courts? Why had he left a promising career in the law, a closely-knit family in Ireland and the young woman he loved, to become a Benedictine monk? How was it that John Main became so excited by the prayer life of a Christian writer who lived in the desert in the fourth century and to whom he was led by a Hindu Swami?

Why would the Prior of an established Monastery in London later give it all up to go off and set up shop in an old house in Montreal, Quebec? And how was it so many people, seeking a new dimension in their lives, journeyed to the Priory he founded in Montreal, discovered John Main and were forever changed by the discovery? The answer lay in John Main’s own journey.

“A fresh, and helpful approach to meditation from an inspired teacher. ” Ann Morrow Lindberg

Click below to hear Neil McKenty discuss John Main

 

To find out more about this book and the other McKenty books visit the bookshelf.

Drawing Your Own Maps, Part 2

January 19, 2015

Click below to hear an episode of Exchange with Neil McKenty (Radio Nostalgia)

Drawing Your Own Maps, Part 2

How do you know when you are living out of your own map? Let me suggest a few simple test, so simple you may think them jejune. Believe me they’re not. consider the following :

1) A friend calls you on the telephone to invite you to a party. You tell the friend you’ll get back to her. The reason for your delay is not to consult your agenda. The reason is that you don’t really want to commit yourself until you’re sure another, more interesting invitation doesn’t turn up. You are not living out of your own map. The relevant advise is ”Move in a straight line.”  Only those who habitually live out of their own map are mature enough not to continually hedge their bets but to move in a straight line.

2) Another friend calls on you to take on a project of some kind. You hesitantly say yes, not because the project really interest you (and you already have too many projects on your plate) but because you don’t want to displease your friend. You are not living out of your own map. Only those who do feel really comfortable saying ”no” when ”no” is the nature of the response. How and why a person says ”no” is a fairly accurate test of whether that person is living out of his or her map.

at CJAD

Neil on the radio

3)You do something in public, e.g. a talk, a presentation, an article. There is very little or no reaction from others. You are inordinately discomfited by this lack of response. You are not living out of your own map. To change the image, you are still dancing to the music played by others.

There are many other examples of not living according to your own map and I expect you can come up with many of your own.

Drawing your own maps is not a decision, an act of will. It is a process which requires awareness, demands patience but is truly liberating, And blessings on your journey.

—–

Click below to see promo video for McKenty Live: The Lines Are Still Blazing

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 89 other followers