At what price do we sell our souls? Subtle compromises; false promises; empty dreams. Chasing things we thought we wanted, only to realize when we got them, they weren't what we were seeking, at all. Thomas McAllister awakes, unable to live the life he'd been living. Some whispering within him, subtle at first, calling him on an adventure - to where, he doesn't know. Giving it all up, abandoning it, letting it go, the life he used to live. Taking to the road; having adventures. In search of self, in search of some meaning that goes beyond the material veneer of this commercial world. Was everyone asleep? Did others experience this calling? Surely he must not be the only one. Seeing things in a new way, finding new perspectives, Thomas arrives at his family's farm in Canada, returning to his roots. How can you know where you are, if you don't know where you came from? Living with his Uncle Bud, Thomas discovers the Harvard Trainer and also discovers himself. An anthem to freedom, an ode to the road journey, a manifesto of personal liberation, the ultimate ballad of the broken heart, The Harvard Trainer will take you on a ride you will never forget.
About the Author: I write because of the fragility of our existence. I write because it's my answer to impermanence. I write because it helps me stay connected to my heart. I write because we're all different, and so much the same. I write because the world needs more tenderness. I write because I'm tired of secrets. I write because it's my path to redemption. I write because I've forsaken those that I love. I write because I want to know myself. I write because I want to know you. I write because I'm drawn towards things I shouldn't do. I write because every flower is meant to bloom. I write because life is full of paradoxes. I write because I've had to leave friends behind. I write because it's my form of prayer. I write because, when I write, I lose track of time. I write because I've walked dark streets looking for love. I write because of the way the sublime slips away from words. I write because of the twice shy part of once burned. I write because it helps me learn. I write because there are plenty of people who have written, famous well-published people, literary figures, literary giants, and I didn't like what they wrote. I write because I'm always telling myself stories anyhow. I write because I don't know all of the reasons I write. I write for you. I write. I write. I write. www.tscottmcleod.com