Rocking on the High Rocks

On a pleasant April morning, the traffic was virtually nonexistent on the Murree Expressway. The post-dawn air was crisp and the beauty of the weather was worth the uphill journey. I was quietly anticipating a great round at Chinar Golf Club. The road briskly snaked through the mountains crossing all hurdles smoothly. I cruised in my trusty SUV maintaining pace and performance. The spiritual genre of the morning music further soothed the shoofly of the turnings to tranquility and hope. 

In a drunken style, my chauffeur shifted in the driving seat from one side to another, completely coherent with the curves of the hillside expressway. Unlike my soul, my big tummy didn’t appreciate the waves after waves of those turns. Despite all that, the road to Murree has its unique scenes and sequence. Each time I embark on this road, it feels like it’s the first time. 

From: hippieseurope.tumbler.com

Not all roads take us home nor do all journeys lead us to destinations. Sometimes we undertake unwanted voyages that take us to undesired places. Other times, we go on explorations just for the sake of change or break in routine. Some desires die at the hands of inactions while others get fulfilled by chance. Some wishes are purposeful and others are impossible. One of such desires led me to these mountains. I was climbing these summits to culminate my golf at the top of these peaks. In the slopes of the mighty mountains dwells Chinar Golf Club, the eleventh highest golf club in the world. My flight includes three top golfers of the country. My nephew Mr. Eesa Eyaz, a champion in the making, Mr. Ahmad Baig, the hero who needs no introduction, and Sayed Raza Shah, a promising top ranker. Seeing them play so closely on this difficult course was a fun lesson. Their commitment to each short speaks of their skill and expertise. Ahmad spoke in a mellow tone and changed my game forever. And Raza pointed out bluntly what I was not doing right. We all were mesmerized by the ambiance of this amazing round. 

Speaking of commitment, I must mention Col. Deg, who conceived a three-hole golf course in 1932 at this height. He definitely must have been a fanatic golfer. Mr. Gulab Khan, a local curator who executed that design, must have formed an alliance with the jinns to bring it to reality. How in the world one can think of playing golf in such topography? But colonial British were no less than Jinns themselves. 

It also takes supernatural qualities to play golf on this mountainous course. The tee one sits on top of a hill while it takes deep slopes and steep climbs between tees and greens green. Tall tree lines do intercept the ball and golfers from reaching there. The whole round on this course is a strenuous ascend and descend. There are stairs to reach most of the tees, and it isn’t an easy task. Mostly we try to play over the trees to seldom succeed. Just like my golf game, and the weather of Bhurban, the result of the shot here is quite unpredictable. But perhaps that’s the exciting part. 

Putting is nothing short of a magic trick here. The skin of greens on this course is natural and least treated. Nothing of the sort of PGA greens. This topography has its own qualities and limitations. One thing that is good about this course is the absence of water hazards. They are replaced by tree hazards. The Chir Pine, Blue Pine, Deodar, and Spruce are in a contest with each other to touch the blue sky. And pine needles are trying to cover the ground before the wild white daisy, aquilegia, and hydrangea. The flower spike of chestnut trees adds a unique blend of beauty. 

It is impossible to ignore the chirping. How can one pass through Murree hills and Galiyat without noticing the Himalayan Indigo and other members of Fabaceae? Clouds also call these valleys home. They regularly play hide and seek with the birds of the skies of Bhurban. Black-headed Jays and Himalayan Woodpecker are few beauties to mention.

In this season, butterflies put on live shows in aisles of these tree trunks. The four-ring butterfly is a showstopper among them. They are fragile but determined flights do add another chapter to the story of this beautiful resort. 

Mime adds a special texture to the beautiful lawns of the Chinar golf clubs. 

Touching on this piece of paradise, being a part of a young flight, walking on a unique golf course, and cooperating with the perfect weather makes the ride to Bhurban worth the while. A trip to the mountains never disappoints. 

Credits 

Google 

Wikipedia 

Chinar Golf Club 

Lahoregardening.com

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Short of Perfection

“And still after all this time,

the sun never says to earth, 

“You owe me.”

Look what happens with a love like that,

It lights the whole sky.”

Hafiz

Everybody on this Earth looks for a purpose. Some seek wealth, others look for fame. Some are in search of glory, many are on the quest for knowledge. The clever look for wisdom, while lucky ones fall for love. Some stand steadfast, ready for sacrifice. The moment life takes the form of flesh, a chain of needs commences. A newborn cries for milk only to satisfy its natural need for hunger. Then the baby grows up and hunger levels up from basic needs to worldly wants, like toys or play. 

My need promotes your profession. Your work provides for my necessities. So begins trade, commerce, and economy. Economics leads to avarice and greed makes me work. The golfers’ greed leads them to the gym and the range. They practice their tails off and sweat to their bones. A poor man laboriously works multiple jobs to meet the ends. A scientist researches day and night losing hair and weight. The jockey and horse run to outlast others. A student burns eyes in pursuit of the best grades. The story goes on. People don’t become Tiger Woods, Maria Sharapova, and Paulo Coelho overnight. 

Lakes of sweat pour out of the pores of those whose bodies grace the victory stand. In some cases, sweat is physical and in others it is mental. The lethargic and lazy ones only clap for them sitting on their cozy couches, while the winners unlock the bottles of champagnes to celebrate their victories. There are no shortcuts to the finishing line and hard work is the only key to success. It has its own cramps and stresses. Those who dance in the corridors of the palace of success and twist on red carpets, do pass through the thorn full paths of hardships and thrust through the dunes of determination. Behind the admirable figures of the fairylike models lies the story of constant fasting, unflavored diet, and endless steel lifting. In the hands of the ones holding the most prestigious of trophies, lie the scars of determination. 

Cricket enthusiasts wait hours for their turn to bat while fielding in the scorching sun. Footballers earn scratches from their fields and boxers go home with heavy bruises. Still, the game goes on. Golfers on the other hand keep tanning, playing with their individual balls in constantly rotating turns. Still, the ball is lost every now and then. Scratches, bruises, and the burning of skin are all the steps on the stairway of life, multiplied as the baby seasoned, from feeder to food to friends to fame to facade to fabulation, to ultimately become a person. 

“My soul is from elsewhere, I am sure of that, and I intend to end up there.”

Rumi

It is a great human desire to be accepted, praised, and honored by fellow human beings. The burning fancy of heroism leads us to the path of extreme hard work. On the track of struggle, one keeps crossing rivers after rivers, without the fear of drowning. Those who push themselves to the extent of extinction stand on the reach at the top. The only way up there is through the effort of consistent labor. How can one taste the fruit without planting, watering, and sowing the seed? Only once you go through the difficult phases, can you truly enjoy the deliciousness of your struggle. 

Yes, victory is a need. I myself begin my day struggling on golf courses. Yes, winning is a necessity, an inclination for the minds, fodder of the souls, and drive for life. The biggest of all needs we have as humans is our survival. These days humanity is fighting a serious war against the most stealth enemy: COVID-19. We must give it defeat by not giving up. By following the protocol. By avoiding unnecessary exposure. Good luck fellows. 

Credits 

Google 

Wikipedia 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Lunch at Soan River

On the first day of April a group of my business partners had planned a field trip for site selection for our upcoming housing project. Our cavalcade took off from Islamabad, Kenny Rogers was preaching to me, about manners of “Gambling” through my car stereo. 

Cruising through the beautiful Pothohar plateau, the green and yellow landscape delivered a grand message to me. It said, “Green represented the youth, and old was represented by the yellow, mature crop of wheat, the gold.” 

 After many stops on the recommended sites, we finally reach a land owner’s home. Who had generously invited us to lunch. We reached his residence in Chakari. Man! He lives in an eye of the earth.

How can I describe it through my limited vocabulary and stammering narration?  

Sun shone in full glory , the wind blew briskly, the sky was bright and blue, the wheat crop at its peak bloomed and spring was in full swing. We sat on a large veranda at the bank of Soan river. The sky was reflective of the slow moving currents of the Soan River. The blonde wheat crop sat smiling in the lap of lush green mountains. The wind constantly combed the golden wheat spikes making them dance to Pothohari tunes. The young citrus orchard in the company of adolescent Loquat trees resembled the freshmen on campus grove. 

I could gaze at a few grazing cattle on the other bank of the river. While a cow came closer to greet the guests. She was shaking her head every now and then in welcome gestures. It reminded me that she also chipped in the lunch we were about to have. 

The scene absorbed completely. I was one with the valley. It soared my thoughts beyond the dusty survey of the lands on this business tour. The host had an equally pleasant personality. This part of his farm was specifically made for guests. They call it “Daira” in local language and in english it is known as anexy. It was designed in coherence with local traditions. The building is surrounded by trees. A big paved courtyard, covered br ornamental boundary. Wide veranda, a large sitting hall. Drawing and dining rooms in the lower floor.The main hall was furnished with rope knitted local beds, that had colorful wooden legs. They had decorated those with cotton filled pillows and hand woven bed covers. That is a traditional welcome gesture. 

 He further had arranged a delicious nosh-up in our honor. The self raised and street fed chicken’s curry, home grown garlic sautéed spinach, house baked bread, artfully made liver stew and well-done semolina sweet dish took over the entire scenario. Everything was cooked in home churned butter. How can I forget to mention that glass of villagers buttermilk? I must name it an additive-free luncheon by an organic host at a seraphic home. In these times of processed and stored food, this accidental lunch was proof that it was the house of a son of the soil, and a mother ran it. We don’t find people like that in the vicinity of the capital anymore. 

Be blessed, be happy, and be on the move. So many beautiful scenes await you out there. 

Credits 

Google

YouTube 

Margalla Greens GCC

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Mr, ABbott’s Abad

Who can speed away from the scenery around M-1 when it takes off from Islamabad. An intersection at M-15 adds the flavor of Martian topography to the scene. The cliffs of clay make fun of the hills of stone in the area. Prior to the intersection, it crosses the mighty Indus River.  This river is known as the mother of civilizations. It reminds the modern engineers of the motorways about the architectural abilities of ancient civilizations like Ghandhara, that it had inundated. If you know the history of the area, than It is a route that equals the time travel. 

On top of that It is a journey that draws attention to vying aesthetic senses of man and nature. Remarkably placed M-1 motorway sprints through the curvy landscape of Potohar Plateau. It also goes through the chapters of history and archaeology.  Avoiding her majesty the Margalla hills, it bypasses the present capital Islamabad to further bypass the remains of  Takṣaśilā, (Texila) the ancient capital. It takes us caressing the both capitals which are otherwise millennials apart, although they are only thirty two kilometers from each other.  Cruising on such a scenic and encyclopedic fairway we reached the fabulous city of Abbottabad @ 4,121.00 ft above sea level. The footprints of the Aryan migrants, Medes of Persia, Alexander the Great, Ashoka the great, Mongols, and British Raj are quite visible in the region.

 It is a major city offering a gateway to the several magnanimous mountain ranges. Galyat on one side and kaghan valley on the other.  Thandiani hill station at 9020ft, watches it from the above and Mansehra, smiles from the North at Abbottabad. Abbottabad is an endearing jeweled tourist base. It houses so much esteem in these  Himalian foothills. PMA kakul Academy, medical college, Army medical corps center, top boarding schools like Army Burn Hall college, Army school of music, and much more. In addition the Piffer Golf Club attracts golfers like me to this one of a kind urban center. 

The golf course sits in the center of the city. Once we got inside the grand gate, the noise and pollution of the city simply was no more. Mighty tree lines of magnificent Chinar simply absorbs the visitors and their transgressions of the outside world. The lush green fairways, variety of birds, flowers beds, mischievous pandiculations of the greens, links with sharp bends, zigzag waterways in addition to the hazards, narrow tree lines, crowned roughs, glimpses of Karakoram mountains and simplicity of the design make this golf course mesmerizing and memorable. 

Clusters of terrace houses in the lap of mountains around the course add an out of this world look to the ambiance of this wonderful golfing arena. 

I am a frequent golfing traveler of different continents. As a wanderer like air I don’t fit in one town. So I belong to all. I also belong to many clubs in different cities. Playing at various courses has taught me a certain dialect that golf courses communicate in. Courses’ talk to me and I can communicate with them at a spiritual level. Yet this course sings tunes of its own. I can hear the melodies of long and stone hardened water flowing through the culverts on the course. It tells the story of cold glaciers above in the Himalaya mountains. Lyrics of hundreds of miles of speedy rivers and rhythm of icy lakes on the top floats through these channels. Although man’s hard work to pollute this sacred water is obviously visible. Still the lovely breeze that travels along these currents stands witness to it’s sanctity.

So do the hills of Abbottabad. They know the journey of breeze and water since they guide them both to the direction of Abbottabad. Heavens may have the solution for human pollution but earth seems incapable to cope with it. So is man himself. The water running through our creeks and karezs speaks about that in volumes. 

There were some trees that were hundred and fifty years old. They tell the anecdote of man’s positive contribution and fight for the earth is ancestral. Earlier generations planted  seeds, which today stand as tall trees for our comfort. So should we. 

Credits 

Google 

Wikipedia 

Pinterest 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Dimples

Golf balls illustrate artistic dimples that place them on the highest pedestals of beauty. There are golf balls of many colors but none beats the original white. The perfection with which it moves causes anyone to appreciate the physics behind it. But the story of dimples enters our lives much before our introduction to golf balls. Most of the babyfaces have dimples. Most get filled soon while a few do hold on to their dimples till age wrinkles their plump cheeks. What cheeks are more attractive than the ones with beautiful natural indentation, one carved by God Himself. 

The aura of dimple faces makes inlets in hearts and makes the skin hair rise. It floats charm and represents innocence. Many amorists fall in love and get lost in the universe of splendor behind those pretty pits. Oceans of irresistibility dwell in the depths of that divot on cheeks. 

“Don’t you know yet? It’s your light that lights the world.”

Rumi

The beauty maintains its awe in joy and in despair. Sadness sometimes stimulates it even more. Those who have seen tears traveling through those clefts can tell you the piercing power of that little drop and dent. I pray no cheeks, with or without dimples, ever see saltish drains. Only smiles suit the symmetry of that seamless surface. 

Dimples on golf balls and divots on the fairways help in the execution of beautiful shots. A smile further signifies dimples on an already adorable face. In the game of golf, bad shots are as frequent as good ones. Despite this, the game goes on, with divots and with shanks. Bunkers, roughs, and water hazards are made on the course to add challenges to the game. So are the bodies of human beings. What is a bigger challenge than performing before the miraculous beauty that nature created in the human body? 

Dimples, John Lee Hooker

One appreciates beauty wherever one goes. Whether it is on golf fields or in a museum, beauty exists everywhere. But the beautiful should stay humble and the amorist must remain decent. The beauty that intends to seduce and the lover who longs to sin are both the fuel of the inferno also known as hell. 

A human being sins, Adam repents and God forgives. We cannot keep odometers in the human brain neither can we install a tracker in it. Self-control is the only method that promotes balance. We can only teach juniors what is good and bad for them and for society as a whole. Unfortunately our performance there is not up to the mark. There will always be perfect balls, mesmerizing dimples, and dazzling beauty. What matters the most how we receive and treat them. 

“The real sin against life is to abuse and destroy beauty, even one’s own.”

Katherine Anne Porter

Credits:

Google 

Pinterest 

YouTube 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Saving The Beautiful Mornings

Mornings are beginnings. Beginnings are births. Births are stories to be told by the future. The future is what follows the present. The present lives till the end of it all. We keep living for a tomorrow that never comes. Morning, noon, evening, night, tomorrow, and yesterday only live in the present. The past and future are pre and post-concepts of now. It is the constant thought of time moving, that makes me wonder how valuable it is to cherish the now. 

Keeping our mornings serene and sober is crucial for the health of our planet. Instead, we are continually violating its sanctity without any mercy. Pollution caused by our own activity and lifestyle challenges the very existence of the planet that brings us beautiful mornings. Not to mention the food and shelter it provides. It is our only home. Our technology might occupy more stars but we can’t call them home. There might be breathtaking views from the other worlds, but what can beat the beauty of our Earth? Heaven comes close. 

Yes, we look forward to land in heaven but for that, we have to shed our bodies. Heaven may be for pious souls only but the Earth is for both body and soul. That may be the only paradise that can entertain both bad and good souls. It accepts us in all shapes and in every condition. It accommodates us dead and alive. Sick and healthy. Sad and happy.  Weak and strong. It does not distinguish between its occupants. Just like a mother’s home. Even hell is discriminating. It only allows people with certain qualities to enter. It has its own standards and prerequisites. Earth on the other hand keeps her door open to all. 

We must protect and preserve such a home with utmost sincerity and maximum effort. There is an old saying among bird catchers that “They are trying to catch flying ones, ignoring those who are sitting.” There is an English idiom that “one in hand is better than two in the bush.” We are making money exploiting our fertile planet and spending it to explore the barren ones. As a result, causing pollution at cosmic levels. 

There are several kinds of pollution. Water contamination to smog. Space debris to carbon emissions. Noise pollution to viruses. Sometimes our intentions get polluted as well. That is the one that taints our souls. It is the pollution that stains our thoughts and further instigates our minds to promote negativity and evilness around us. After all, what are we but mere extensions of our environments? What surrounds us is what is inside us. 

 “The real dirt is not outside, but inside, in our hearts. We can wash all stains with water. The only one we can’t wash is the grudge and the bad intentions sticking to our hearts.”

Shams Tabrizi

Those who appreciate the cleanliness in their thinking also contribute to keeping their surroundings neat. A virtuous mind promotes respectable living. Littering is the basic sign of negativity. Litterers themselves are a scrap of humanity. We need to save our mornings from all sorts of pollution and we should keep our minds neat from all negativity. 

Take good care of yourself, your home, and your world. 

Stop pollution 

Credits 

Google 

YouTube 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Flowers

“An art, which has an aim to achieve beauty, is called a philosophy or in the absolute sense it is named wisdom.”

Al Farabi

Spring is a season when the soul of the universe smiles at us and flowers represent its beam on earth. Their unique fragrance is an epitome of paradisical inebriety. The colors of the flowers are the prayers of paradise inspiring us to make it there. The breeze that carries that aroma in its beak is the whisper of the stars telling us that love is the only path that leads to the heavens. This season of bloom, birth, and boom sings the songs of the spirits that live inside us somewhere.  

The discussion of souls and spirits seems outdated in the age of landings on Mars, in the days of Dolly’s cloning, and in the era of heart transplantation and singularity. But one cannot deny how the desire for beauty has persisted for centuries. The only things humans grow with a passion that is not for sustenance or are flowers. There is something whimsical about the history of the human relationship with flowers. We are simply in love with them. They are food for the soul that ignites positive feelings within us. The only common denominator between humans and flowers is life. And the only mutual exchange between the two is a grin. It is a simple fact that they are both made for love. 

“If you have a garden and a library,

You have everything you need.”

Cicero 

The human appreciation for flowers represents their wisdom. If we look through the glasses of evolution theory, the first encounter of humans with flowers was the seed of their consciousness. The also reveals the human landing at the landscapes of the Garden of Eden. The history of human love for flowers goes way back, from Egyptian gardens to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, from the Greek gardens to the Singapore Botanical Gardens of the day. The story and the fields persist. 

Not all flowers grow in gardens, some bloom in the orchard of our mind. These are the florets of beautiful thoughts that eventually bloom into the fruit of wisdom. Some flowers blossom in our dreams that inspire us to climb the hills of success. A few sprout in the brains of research scientists to create new technologies. Many flowers bloom to make seeds that assure food to many. It is the very soul of the universe and much more beyond that which dwells in seeds and shines through flowers.

Sometimes flowers even grow in the most unexpected places, proving that beauty and love can be found everywhere. 

“Everything you see has its roots in the unseen world. The forces change yet the essence remains the same.”

Rumi

A flower is a language of the heavens and the vocabulary of beauty. It is the heartbeat of life and the breath of the future. The soul holds it in admiration and the body wears it for decoration. And sometimes, flowers even grow in the most unexpected places, proving that beauty and love can be found everywhere. God may keep your gardens green forever.

Alice in Wonderland: The flower 

Credits:

Google

YouTube 

By:

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

The Wise Old Man

Spring is approaching fast and we have decided to take off half an hour earlier during a brief break, at the midway hut on a bright morning. It was very pleasant and we had abandoned the layers of winter clothing for a normal golf shirt. We were discussing how winter has left us for the season, when an old golfer, who still had his jacket on, intervened, 

“Not before March.” he pauses before speaking again, 

“This is Punjab, boys. Any change in weather uphill can chill it here anytime.”  We got up laughing, cunningly thinking this old man had had it. 

The next morning I didn’t bother to check the weather app, dressed in beautiful spring attire, and stepped out to the porch. I was amazed to see a densely foggy and chilly morning waiting for me outside. I returned immediately to grab a pullover. I got my sunglasses off and started driving towards the golf club.  

The visibility was low, the fog was increasing as I was nearing the golf course. There was less than usual traffic on the road. And as I was traveling to my destination, I suddenly remembered the words of the old golfer at the midway hut yesterday. Of course weather, people, conditions, and moods are very undependable. They can change at any time. One should always keep a pullover of tolerance handy when dealing with such weather, people, conditions, and moods. 

The lesson here is that one should not laugh off the advice of the older generation. They have seen more of the world than we have. They are well-informed about the changes Earth goes through because they have taken the time to see it happen. They may not know how to deal with the ever-changing technology but they know much more about life and its wings. Not all wings are for flying, some of them are merely to protect and decorate. Life is a bird that needs those wings of wisdom more than anything else. Some wings help you fly your body, others help you in mental flight. Flapping both of these wings in coherence matters the most. 

The fogginess of ignorance is damaging to anyone it touches. One must take into account people who have already walked through that mystifying mist. This is such a mist that does not see the sun. It is a twilight that lasts with us till the grave. One must learn to acknowledge that the future is only sustainable when we learn from our past.  

Credits:

Google 

YouTube 

By:

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, OleMiss Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

The Fog

February is a month that abandons the cold and welcomes the warmth, festivities and freshness into the Punjab air. Spring is a glowing season but amber dominates February. Yellow is a celebration color of this time of the year. Marigold, chrysanthemum, gutta-percha, the wild sodom apple, bindweed and the king of flowers, rose of all colors embellish the streets of the city of gardens, Lahore. Villages around here offer mustard flowers as far as the eye can see. 

The skies are adorned by the kites of Bassant and on the ground, streetside dining facilities become crowded. People love to sit in lawns and yellow oranges of all kinds hegemonize the outdoor tables. Yellow sunlight warms the atmosphere asking people to take off their winter clothings layer by layer. Though this month is usually yellow in this region, this time it’s different. This February is engulfed in haziness and mistiness. The fog persists on staying this winter, overstaying its welcome. 

The early birds, like me, are the serious casualties of fog. In visibility 100 yards or less, playing golf seems impossible. Some enthusiasts dare to venture through such conditions, we were one of them this morning. It was more mystic than my cloudy brain. I would call it double blind. Caddies at the Royal Palm GCC were quite trained to locate and follow golf balls in fog. They can point the pin through dense fog. Their skill is remarkable and I heartily applaud their efforts. They know Royal Palm Golf Course like they know the back of their hands. 

Misty morning by Bob Marley 

Playing in fog is hide and seek game. Members of your flight can become invisible any time and reappear at once from anywhere. It is like chasing ghosts, both thrilling and bewildering. But I enjoyed the challenge fog brought to this game I love. It became more of a mind game, a virtual round. I was playing on an imagined pin and towards an envisioned direction. I made two pars, four boggles and three doubles. Better than the usual. 

What is Trust (Tawakul)-(توکل)? It means to have blind faith. I discovered this conviction in the unseen through this foggy round of golf. I understood the workings of this kind of belief. How religions that believe in the unseen God function. How it feels to have faith in an unseeable divinity. If we are unable to see something, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. My inability to see through golf cannot deny the standing pin on the greens, the sitting bunkers, or the water hazards. 

So much more exists beyond the reach of the eye and approach of the mind. Just look at the universe; just because we haven’t discovered it all or understand it all, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. There are literally billions of worlds out there. Fog of illiteracy, avarice, myopia, and superstitions impair our vision. Once the sun of faith and moon of enlightenment shines, this fog disappears and we begin to see beyond our eyes. 

When we hit the ball in fog, we have trust in our swings. We believe that the ball will land at the proper place. The caddie has faith in his expertise and his mind sees the ball taking off to a certain direction. He knows where it will end up. This brings in faith, trust, and belief into this life-like game. The mist mystifies the sport but ultimately embraces it. 

The sunlight, fog, cloud, the flower, bush, jungle, the clay, ditch, and dunes, the sand, beach, and the river: all have a meaningful existence. It does not matter how insignificant it is, everything around us serves some purpose. Some things end up in plates and some things take bites. Some things provide and some things consume. Today, fog gives me a trip into the oasis of mysticism while most of the city is cursing it in frustration. If we learn to cherish our experience in this universe, everything begins to please us. Our heart begins to sing to the tunes of togetherness of the universe. 

“Love calls – everywhere and always. We are sky bound. Are you coming?

Rumi

Credits 

Google 

YouTube 

Royal Palm GCC. 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, OleMiss Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

The Floating Bubble

Inspired by Soni Cool.

A bubble may be a delicate little object but it symbolizes a mighty element: the existence. Like a bubble, life exists for a brief period. They gloat, bloat and float only to disappear in air to feed the blankness of nothingness: the nonexistence.  

When one sets their eyes on a bubble, it is so tempting to hold it and preserve it forever. But alas, it is too delicate to be held. In fact, it can disintegrate at the slightest heavy hand. Bubbles can sit on palms but can not be held in them. Their brief existence is their essence and in their fragility lies their power. Existence is the proof of presence. The presence is the only evidence of absence. The void of the universe only glitters with the light of existence. And a bubble is one of the precious little pieces of presence. 

I got the picture above from WordPress. I am a follower of an account called Soni’s Thoughts, which posted this picture titled “A Thought”. These beautiful stanzas add a whole new chapter in my cerebral library. 

Inspired by those phrases, I hereby solemnly declare that I forgive all of them who have hurt me in any way. I forget all the mistreatment given to me by anyone. I let go all the grievances I hold and I throw all the grudges away. I want to blow the bubbles of my life with love and I don’t want to suffocate it with hate and sorrow. I set free my mind from chains of negativity. I want to drain the pool of all sorts of bad intentions. I will follow freedom and I will tread on the path of love. 

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

Rumi 

We read hundreds of pages and try to accumulate all the knowledge that exists in the universe and hope that it moves us. But sometimes, one short stanza floods our soul with joy and fulfillment. There is no doubt that anything written with a pen of sincerity and ink of truth can walk straight into a heart. It can kindle a dark portion of the mind and illuminate it forever. The light of some words can change our way of thinking. Words sometimes guide us out from the ditches of despair and lead us to the highway of hope. The power of words makes some books sacred. Sanctity of some words make the narrators holy. Words inspire people to sacrifice their lives for a cause and they can cause a cowardly heart to surrender. A prayer is also words that soar to the skies and bring them down. Words are colorless but they can change colors of our destiny. Poetry is words spoken in sequence, so are the words in the above abstract. Soni’s words made me compare my life with a bubble flying over the lake of time, on the horizon of the cosmos. Wisdom can reside anywhere: at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina or in a soap and water mixture. It is up to us to find it. 

The universe has entrusted us with the gift of life temporarily, only to hand it over to representatives of death at a certain stage. Our stay on this earth is nothing but a bubble. Once this reality becomes clear to us, we can begin to tend to life tenderly. We can not keep on riding the horse of hatred and despair anymore. They say life is too short to live. Once we learn how we should live, it comes to an end. The sooner we come to terms with this temporary world, the better it is for our own welfare. 

Life is a highway. Rascal Flatts “Cars”

Credits: 

WordPress.com

Soni’s thoughts

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, Photographer, OleMiss Rebel. 

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com