Bridge May Ice

“Once you conquer your selfish self, all your darkness Will change to light.”

Rumi

When the yawns of humidity and cooler heat of pre-winter, meet in the lap of a September morning, everyone can sense that autumn is just around the corner. When the lush green leaves begin to form a botanical rainbow, one instinctively knows they’re about to fall. When the moisture from the air begins to yield and dryness dominates, it’s understood that the season of the naked trees is at hand. The colorful changes in the landscapes display the mesmerizing tastes of the clandestine artist. It makes me wonder how beautifully the ultimate designer perceives it all—and even more amazingly, how it’s all executed. One sees no scaffolds, no cranes, no paintbrushes, yet little by little, everything on the planet transforms. Including the moods of its dwellers. The beats of autumn replace the drums of summer. Silence silently pervades the crowded beaches, and overflowing parks begin missing the hand-in-hand walks of couples in love. The shift in weather transforms the entire lifestyle of the people. 

The fading fragrance of the flowers and dormancy of the grass on the fairways announce the upcoming spell of cold and snow. This invites us to enjoy the outdoors as much as we can while it lasts. Being a persistent golfer, I enjoy the changes on the course—in my attire and attitude. Although I don’t like replacing shorts with golf pants, no one can escape the effects of the  changing weather as long as one stays on earth, though I can’t comment on eternal hibernation … 

Autumn, winter, spring, summer, storm, sunshine, sunrise and sunset only matter while we walk on earth. Who cares what happens afterwards. Whether one ends up in Heaven or Hell, no one knows. Only the hells of this world seem more daunting and scornful. And the biggest fire of all is the fire of jealousy. No weather can release us from the hell of jealousy. 

Just as the rhythm of life keeps changing, the song of the universe remains the same. Variety is the wish of the living; everything else in the universe follows a set pattern, even though change makes matters more interesting and permanence is boring. Who knows?—the nostalgic residents of eternal heavens might be missing out on their stay at the rugged earth. Maybe it’s the fatality of life that makes it fertile. The constant renewal of living beings might have kept this planet young and fresh. I take comfort in the belief in life after death and the reality of death after life. That might be the ultimate metamorphosis we will ever go through. Let’s hope for the best.

“Your journey will be much easier and lighter if you don’t carry your past with you.”

Credits

Google

Motivation

By

Ahsan Jamil

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Mist or Mystic

“Your whole idea about yourself is borrowed- – – – from those who have no idea who they are themselves.”

Osho

His name is Mike, and they call her Jasneet Kour. I am Ahsan, and the anchor on TV is Wolf Blitzer. Is this how it really is? Are all these people merely those names? Or is there something more than a name attached to every one of us?  Sometimes I wonder who I am. My identity card reveals my name, age, gender, nationality, identification marks, address, etc. But is that all we are — numbers? My language is another aspect of myself. Maybe it’s the way we express ourselves that makes us stand out. Like the color of my skin and features of my face. Perhaps, it’s the impression and memories we instill in others that people remember us by. I believe in a religion my parents told me about, and I know the math I studied at school. My age is defined by a calendar, and my life moves forward according to the arms of the clock. The chains of hunger, climate, social norms and taboos, along with other vital elements of life, control me in an absolute sense. My body so badly wants to survive. It has made me the most needful entity on this planet, that I am. So do the ties of family and clans. I feel contained and in custody. Many factors make me who I am, but who am I really meant to be?

“The soul has been given its own ears to hear things that the mind does not understand.”

Rumi

There is another part of me that’s free and knows no boundaries. It needs no identification nor does it need any nationality. It neither needs a Boeing to fly nor a vehicle to travel in. It has its own energy source and needs no protein. It is my soul. My spirit. It illuminates me brightly and keeps me feeling alive. It provides me with a warmth — one I can ignite others with through words.

“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness, will we discover the infinite power of our light.”

Brene Brown 

It takes me beyond the limits of flesh and breaks the barriers of time. I stay happy in its company, and I feel light as a feather in its presence. It keeps telling me that I am supposed to be somewhere beyond the surrounding dimensions. It teaches me that there is only one true language — and that’s called love. Love needs no dialect, and it has no alphabets. It has no full stops and no commas. Love flows regularly and limitlessly. Soul and its language always remain young and fresh. Maybe our souls are the soil, and our lives are the buds of love. As with love, life needs time to become what it was meant to be; we just need to trust in our ability to become that reality. 

“Youthfulness is about how vibrantly alive you are, not about when you were born.”

Sadhguru 

Without soul, life seems like a clinical, detached chemical and physical process. Like they say, we are all nothing but stardust. Remnants of the Big Bang. But what’s the truth? Are we part of a higher design? Are we the claimants of superiority over everything else in the universe? Or have we got some supranational rights? I personally don’t feel that I am superior to anything else. My thoughts here; they connect with you. They connect us all through empathy and creativity. Rather, I feel I am one with the universe. A part of it all. Everything is part of me and I am part of everything. 

“ I dreamed I was a butterfly, flying in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder, am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?”

Chuang Tzu Tao 

Credits 

Google 

Motivation 

Mystic Quotes

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Dewy but Humid

“The only lasting beauty is the beauty of the heart.”

Rumi 

On this humid and oppressive morning in August, breathing itself seems to require effort. The leaves are still and the birds are silent. There is no one at the green fee counter. The golf course is empty and the tees are waiting to be struck. I am strolling gently along the paved path leading towards tee box one. Only the dim overhead light, the path and I are awake. Paths rarely sleep and lights sleep during the day. I have the privilege of sleeping or staying awake at any time; that’s the beauty of being a human. Everything under that blue sky has its own prerogative. That tree over there doesn’t go anywhere and everything it needs comes to it. Sunshine, water and air all reach the tree voluntarily or by the actions of someone, whom no one has seen. It welcomes all seasons, including autumn, with an open heart. From an axe to an ant, that tree serves them all. It’s a nursery for hatchlings and home for the birds. It’s a shelter in the sizzling heat and provides wood for fire. 

The golf course is no different. It can never be complete without trees. As trees are ornaments of the planet, so too are golf courses in a city. Though trees at the golf course are often viewed as hurdles, they always magnify the grandeur of the place. Some golfers get annoyed by the tall, thick trees. Others enjoy the beautiful symmetry of their lines. 

Instead of blaming the hurdles and hazards in life, we should practice learning how to overcome them. The harder the journey, the wiser the passenger. 

“If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished?”

Rumi

In order to stay out of the tree lines and water hazards, a golfer needs to practice over and over. Practice consumes one, and it’s boring, but one doesn’t learn without it. The jubilation of victory dwells in the sweat at the practice range.

Wood burns for fire and Tiger Woods boils for performance. I play golf in order to walk, but a part of me craves the square or under. Tree looks for chlorophyll and I look for my ball under it. The game goes on! Today’s blog is aimless in nature yet it is not a waste of time. Today’s weather is not so good for golf, but the weather mostly works against me anyway. It is my craze for golf that determines my round rains only interpret. Although it’s the rain that I need the most today. The shower from the sky will turn this humid August into a misty September. We have had enough of the suffocation, the dampness and the mugginess for quite some time now. 

Credits 

Google 

Margalla Greens GC

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

The Stones of Bagram

“It is better to discuss things, to argue and engage in polemics than make perfidious plans of mutual destruction.”

Gorbachev

Stone is a vital ingredient in the making of planet earth. It adds to its glory and provides it peaks & heights. The unique Inhabitants of this magnificent star have strong ties with stones. They have been living in the shelter of stones forever. From stardust to Stonehenge, from caves to counties, the human relationship with stone is eternal. Some stones are worshipped and some stand on graves. Some stones are diamonds and some are tiles on the floor. Some stones are peaks like Mount Everest and some stones are referred to as seamounts in the deep waters. Much is written and researched about stones. Carved and painted caves, Ashoka rocks, the pyramids of Egypt, and the logosyllabic scripts of Mesoamerican civilization are all signs of man’s relationship with stones.

Britannica 

However, the stones of Bagram tell a different tale that’s written in the blood of the innocent without purpose. This is a story of the chivalry, courage, sacrifice, and death of all the sides that engaged in fighting. Chapter after chapter of this sad book reveal pages of the wounds, smoke and death of the youth of this otherwise beautiful planet of stones and waters. 

A boy from Batesville, Mississippi, one from Espoo, Finland, and another from Chiras Sar-e-Pol, risking their lives over a conflict erected from the loss of buildings they had never seen. And neither had their families ever visited the city where those buildings once stood. Many of them never returned to their waiting mothers. Their girlfriends and wives sang songs about separation. Marking calendars day after day. Till the day a uniformed person knocked at their door to hand over a flag and a few belongings of their cherished one. On another broken door of a mud house a guy in a turban announced the death of a young son of a poor mother. Sometimes some families never even saw the dead bodies of their loved ones. The loss of life on both sides made their families both sad and resolute in equal measure. Those who returned were physically crippled or mentally disturbed.

All of a sudden the fighting stops, though no winner has been declared. 

The country again falls into the young hands of the resisting youth. They declared a pardon for all, but thousands continue to cling to the airplanes of departing soldiers. Falling off the taxiing planes. 

The end of this war is also strange. No one lost; even the fleeing Afghan leaders are leaving with the title of Ex-President and Ex-Governor. Only the families of the dead, misplaced, and handicapped suffered. 

And those who invited foreign forces to Afghanistan are now running with taxpayers’ dollars in their bags. A person who ran sub-standard Afghan restaurants in Queens, New York, rode on Allied forces’ tanks to sit in the palace of the president. Such people cared little for both the life of the youth of their adopted country or the country of their birth. They got glorified and sat on the throne made by the blood of the innocent youth of almost 50 countries. This war was fought earnestly by the poor of both cultures, and they remained poor afterwards. Rich policy makers and their sponsored companies made rivers and oceans of dollars out of this expensive war. This might have been the most extravagant war in the history of the world. Billions & billions were drained to build a government, an army and a nation. These bucks neither won the war nor built a nation. The army that was trained with those dollars turned out to be nothing but a wall of sand that melted without a storm. What does it all mean? It means corruption. Taxpayers must ask such questions of the leaders who chalked out these policies. And the world should also know the price of blood that overflowed in that war. Sides don’t matter anymore, but does the life of the sons of this world? 

The money was not wasted only in war and in building nations; it was also wasted on the training of diplomats and negotiators. Yet what did they achieve? Dialogue is still going on in Doha. For what purpose? 

The book of history carries a series of tales of rise & fall. Is this a story of the rise and fall of people like the Queens’ restaurant owner or a tale of students’ movement? The stones of Bagram have no answer — they are silent. 

“War, like children’s fights, are meaningless, pitiless and contemptible.”

Rumi

I will end today’s writing at an CNN’s interview with Khalid Hussaini a novelist, and writer of ‘The Kite Runner’,

“I would ask him: What is the legacy of the last 20 years? What was all this for? On the American side, the country’s back in the hands of the very people that we went there to throw out. On the Afghan side, thousands and thousands of civilians died, so many people became displaced, so many villages were bombed, so many people suffered in the hope that the country might have a better future.”

Credits 

CNN

Google

Britannic 

YouTube 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Reshma

“What a joy, to travel the way of the heart.”

Rumi

On a flight from Boston to Istanbul, I try to update my playlist on the Apple Music app. I am going through my music library to keep the deeper music and shed the temporary hits. I have already worked my way through Junoon’s ‘Sayonee,” Rabbi Shergill’s “Bulla ki Jana,” Hadiqa’s “Kamli,” Ali Sethi’s “Khabar- E-Tahayyur,” and a whole lot more, when all of sudden my scroll pauses at Reshma. The beat of the song “we main chori chori” begins to sync with the beats of my heart. The Boeing 777 might be flying at the speed of 860 kilometers per hour, but this folk music grows wings on me like an angel. Music takes us to distant lands yet opens us up to memories near and dear to us. It takes me back decades to the “Baisakhi” festival, at the banks of the canal where the Haji Murad Trust Eye Hospital now stands. That’s where I heard this song for the very first time. Ooh, what a trip it is. I can’t discern whether time is flying or I am flying back in time, but the stewardess’ announcement soon reminds me of my actual whereabouts. 

The sincerity of Reshma’s delivery of lyrics in perfect Punjabi accent, the purity of Manzoor Jahlla’s poetry, and the rhythm of a conventional composition of an everlasting music absolutely refrains any contamination of foreign music. Pardon my limited knowledge that I don’t know the composer’s name. Just the music itself conjures up the smell of the Punjabi soil here & now. It sheds all coatings off me, peeling out a true villager. I don’t have the exact words to fully convey what I’m feeling. Music truly is the language of the soul, transcending the explanations of this material world. 

Although I am capsuled in a plane above the Atlantic Ocean, Reshma’s tone still has the power to bring me back to my parental home. I can feel the sweet scent of the flowers flow into me like a meadow hugging me. I feel like I’m strolling alongf the banks of the Upper Chenab Canal in my village, Theri Sansi. The water that flows through this canal originates from the river Chenab. It’s known as the river of the lovers because of Sohni Mahiwal. There is dust flying around my feet, and mist floating over the water, and I am lost in the mystic melody of this song. The loving souls of Sohni & Mahiwal may be laughing at me by now. I can assure them that whether they can  see it or not, my soul — or some part of it — is definitely there. It is drumming alongside my heartbeat, giving it the companion it always needed.

I am mesmerized by how music can open strange chapters of our mind. And the omnipresent nature of the soul amazes me even more. It can be anywhere it likes just in the flip of an eye, without ever leaving where it is. Wow, this is a flight within a flight. This is a journey within a journey, and an existence within an existence. 

“Only when your experience of life moves beyond sense perception, it becomes absolute, not relative.”

Sadhguru

The dual nature of this trip invites me to ponder upon many things. The relationship between my body and soul. I wonder how far I can travel physically, or in my thoughts, and how much further my soul can take me. Is traveling by soul a way to go beyond myself, beyond universes, beyond destiny, beyond life? Although I am heading to Istanbul, is that the only trip I am making? Yes, I may not have wings, but do I need wings to fly? Was I there near my village? Is it a mirage of a mind in a flight or is it a flight of a mind? Maybe our soul lives beyond the past, present, and future — it may be what links us all together beyond the intricacies of time.

“Why do you stay in prison, when the door is so wide open?”

Rumi 

Whatever it is, I like it. It gives me a sense of freedom. It enhances my faculties. I think I should go to sleep just like the rest of my flight mates. Maybe there’s another trip waiting for me in my dreams. Good night. 

Credits

YouTube 

Google 

Wikipedia 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

The Mewing of a Gray Catbird

“Every morning starts a new page in your story. Make it a great one today.”

By Doe Zantamata 

Good morning to you all. I am writing this blog at 5:21 am, sitting before a wide window that opens to the whole wide road in front of the house where I’m staying. My eyes are treated to the lush lawns gracing this beautiful morning with their emerald hues and sweet scents. A cat meows by my window. As I hone in on it, I realize it’s actually a gray bird singing in a cat’s voice just a couple of feet from my window. I don’t want to move my hand to take a picture because I know a clip is worthless compared to its magnificent mews. I’m surprised that this bird can actually sound like a cat. It’s chirping in its own voice too. I never knew one bird was capable of making different sounds. Google tells me that this bird is known as a gray catbird. 

Image: Borrowed from (FeederWatch) @ Pinterest 

One learns new things every day. If we stop talking and simply listen, we get the chance to learn something from everyone, young or old. This bird was my teacher on this cloudy morning.e grateful to the fate that provided me an opportunity to rise up and see another morning along with its unique gifts. I wonder just how many wonders in this world go unseen. Even after multiple experiences, there’s always a  new miracle to witness. This leads me to a quote I read on Pinterest posted by ‘The Rose Garden’:

“Waking up another day is a blessing. Make it count and be happy that you are alive.”

Of course, I am. I have heard from my father that blessings are like a bird, and gratefulness is like scissors. We can domesticate the bird of blessings by cutting its wings with the scissors of gratefulness. So the blessings never leave our courtyard. 

It reminds me that all elders in my home used to begin their day with worship, recitations, and prayers. That must have been their way of appreciating their mornings. Such practices allow us to absorb some of the peace outside, as we can truly hear when it is quiet.

Rumi also focused on gratitude, 

“Be grateful for your life – – –

every detail of it – – –

and your face will come to a shine like a sun – – – and everyone who sees it – – –

will be made glad and peaceful.”

If I could be a source of someone else’s happiness, that in itself would be a blessing. The sun rises from the depths of distances, the birds leave their cozy nests and lovely chicks, the plants yawing from deep sleep to spray fresh oxygen, the breeze touches the flower petals, asking them to release fragrance, the dew shines from life, stirring sun rays, and I am on this window—a witness to all these mesmerizing scenes. I love mornings and how they motivate you. I may not go to golf today because I don’t intend to leave this window and miss miraculous moments like these. Such moments highlight the contrast, yet beauty, of the electronic world inside and the plutonic outside; both are gateways to internal peace. After all, even our clocks are no more than a copy of the sun’s position. What a trip of spiritualistic beholden it is. I don’t want to take any other calls today, urgent or casual. The call of the gray catbird has delivered a gift of a great morning to my window that is glowing with a rousing rainbow of reverence and countless springs of satisfaction. I am in love with it. Good morning to you all too. 

Credits 

Somerset, Massachusetts 

Google

Pinterest 

YouTube 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Gimme

“A ‘gimme’ can best be defined as an agreement between two golfers, neither of whom can putt very well.”

Anon 

People from all walks of life seek relief through certain concessions. Golfers assume that any golfer can putt from a short distance, so they declare it a putt when the ball nears the hole. It is called a ‘gimme.’ It’s not always a concession; mostly, it’s used to pace up the flights. In other words, to save time. At times, the sum of all shorts happens to be a gimme shot. At times, it’s a great relief. There is no better example of optimism than a ‘gimme.’ Much like life, it’s the small things that make golf pleasurable.

“For this game you need, above all things, to be in a tranquil frame of mind.” Harry Vardon

Some of our friends believe in perfection. They don’t give or take ‘gimme’ in a game or in their lives. Although golf seems to be a game of perfect performance, is perfectionism necessary in life or golf? Well, that’s an ongoing debate for all of us. There are two types of perfectionism: adaptive and maladaptive. Adaptive perfectionism is the good type. It is proper and healthy, where one tries to complete a task in timely fashion and up to the mark, while keeping in mind one’s own capacity, capability, and limitations — in other words, perfectionism within reason. Maladaptive perfectionism, however, involves setting unrealistic and unreasonable standards. That eventually tends to lead a person to compromise on self-respect and to beat themself up rather a lot. Perhaps it is human nature that drives us towards perfection, but real perfection only comes after understanding our flaws and limits. Whether in golf or life, peace of mind trumps over perfection.

I am throwing this psychedelic coriander on you for a reason. Today, I was paired with two gentlemen at Swansea Country Club. They were good players, as well as good fellows. We formed a relationship of mutual respect, there and then on the first tee. That remained intact throughout the day. One of us, though, couldn’t tolerate his own shanks and bad shots, in spite of the fact he was the only one among our crew to command a birdie. He scored pars and bogeys mostly. At times, he wouldn’t hit right, and he would yell and bash himself for his downfall. His ego really suffered because of his bad shots, though unnecessarily. His thin tolerance and thick temperament consumed him. What’s the point of playing if you don’t have fun?

“Golf is a compromise between what your ego wants you to do, what experience tells you to do, and what your nerves let you do.” Bruce Crampton

Yet he was friendly, respectful, and cooperative to all of us. I really felt bad for him because he was genuinely unforgiving to himself. His anger was full of passion, and his self-criticism was intense, but all of it was out of context. We all make the same mistakes in most rounds of golf. This game invites and ignites us to do so. It’s ironic how such a slow-paced sport fans a blazing fire within us. The courses are designed with certain hurdles, and they are supposed to frustrate you. Meeting such challenges, trying to overcome those hurdles, making a comeback, and losing some shots in so doing is what golf is all about. 

“Golf is about how well you accept, respond to, and score with your misses much more so than it is a game of your perfect shots.” Dr. Bob Rotella

Maladaptive perfectionism not only frustrates you but also makes your teammates uncomfortable. It’s a sort of invisible debris that annoys more than the used beer can left in the rough. During a mellow morning, at a fresh fairway, in a bewildering breeze, with a crowning crew, no one needs hiccups. Such attitudes kill the buzz, refreshing flashbacks from the Freddy Krueger movie from the previous night. 

“Strive for continuous improvement, instead of perfection.”

Kim Collins

Let’s golf, be happy, and keep the fairways clean from visible and invisible littering.

“Love itself describes its own perfection. Be speechless & listen.”

Rumi 

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Fairways

“But in the end it’s still a game of golf, and if at the end of the day you can’t shake hands with your opponents and still be friends, then you’ve missed the point.”

Payne Stewart

Golfers all over the world are a bit off, but no other nation is more obsessed with golf than America. There are a series of golf courses spread across the country, and most are densely booked during the season. There are almost 576,534 golf holes in the world. The total number of golf courses across the globe is approximately 40,000, of which North America claims 51%. The USA, alone, commands approximately 43% of these courses. 

USA

Approx. population    320,583,000

Golf holes    261,324

Golf facilities    15,372

Population per golf hole    1,227

Swansea Country Club, Massachusetts 

There are some golf apps that book tee times. They further assist golfers, providing live on-course information with wonderful competence. It’s an interesting blend of nature’s bliss and technological ease. Golf courses operate very efficient tee time systems that make crowded fairways fun. I have witnessed wildness, typical American freestyle, mannerism, and courtesy working hand in hand on these fairways. People routinely watch for each other’s balls. Everyone on the flight volunteers to locate lost balls. The good, the bad, and the ugly make no difference. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers are paired by the clubs according to the seeker’s tee times. On the tee, the introduction melts into togetherness as one crew. Golfers usually count individual scores. Some make bets, while others play for the heck of it. These stylistic choices add a depth to the game, making it unique for each player.

Many Americans don’t like to tuck their shirts into their shorts or pants. People of the USA are known to do most formal things informally. Formal or informal, they love sport, and to talk about it even more. They have their own slang for golf terminology. When flying with an American crew, lingo is an added bit of fun. And they won’t spare any opportunity to comment. I enjoy funny, if not witty, commentary and am known for it. A display of good golf along with timely jokes doubles the fun. Alas, whatever stimulates multiple senses heightens the experience. Golf allows a lot of people to open up; even the most uptight begin to crack amazing jokes. I wonder how much talent shines behind the curtain of the non-introduction. Few steps together on a fairway brigade yet so much gap. How it brings people close that otherwise are skies apart. A simple ‘Hello!’ in a tee box leads to a day full of smiles and laughter. Metal may snow on the planet Venus, but the sunshine of decent interaction of its residents makes the earth unique, in the universe. Sometimes our lives are just like a golf course — the field may seem ever-expanding, but it all leads to the same distant, yet familiar, destination.

“Achievements on golf course are not what matters, decency and honesty are what matters.”

Tiger Woods

America, Asia, Antarctica, or maybe terraformed Mars in the future — golf is a nation in itself. It only needs a passport of friendliness, a visa of harmony, and a ticket of etiquette to enter into its borders. If the dignity of a golf course, decorum of the fairway, modesty of the golf ball, slimness of the tee, virtue of the golf stick, ambience of the golf club, and delicacy of the green doesn’t grab you, then what will?

“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.”

Rumi 

Credits 

Google

GolfDigest 

Swansea Country Club

Golf Quotes

Rumi 2014

Facts

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

No Caddies

I put a lot of emphasis on arranging my setup, just for a round of golf. I call it a semantic stylus of my attire. Some may call it overdoing. I don’t care. I try to follow

 Jack Nicholson’s here,

“I am who I am, your approval isn’t needed.”

My chauffeur is ready at 4 a.m. He sets the golf kit, trolley, and the Vego to go. He is already informed what color scheme I would be wearing. So he places matching sunglasses, twinning golf shoes, an Apple Watch, bug repellent and sun blocker ointments next to my seat. He makes sure a fully charged speaker, bottles of water, Gatorade, and nitroglycerin are stocked in my golf kit. He further adds a matching glove to the collection. He then waits for me. 

I am usually awake by 2 or 3 a.m. I read or write at that time. Waking up early also provides me an opportunity to submit to the Almighty. By 4:30 a.m, I step onto the porch in perfectly paired attire to go to the golf club. Socks to cap, belt to boots, and hand towel to sleeves, reverently stylish. On top of that, relevant shades and a smiling face. It’s those little pleasures that fill my day with great gratitude. My jubilation is apparent through my outlook, and so is the enthusiasm. Playing excellent golf is not solely in my hand but looking good at the course is. I appreciate each breath and am grateful for each second that I am living. Every day means another chance I get to try again, to be better. 

“If the foot of the trees were not tied to earth, they would be pursuing me. For I have blossomed so much, I am the envy of the gardens.”

Rumi 

A caddie awaits us at the golf course. He takes the kit and follows me to tee one. The crew is there. If someone were late, we would briefly wait for him. Everyone is dressed well as if heading for a fashion show. Our caddies are equally inspired to look and smell good in a competitive manner. There are halfway huts in all of the courses. We stop for a tea break after four or five holes. Such is a state of zealous flight we are accustomed to. A match of luxury, fashion, and etiquette runs along the birdies, pars, and bogeys in this flight. Golf is more than just a sport—it’s all the fine delicacies that come with it that make it worth relishing. The peaceful environment, jam-packed with veteran minds, all itching to tell their tales.

I am in the United States these days. Nature is so fond of the North American continent that it was quite spendthrift during its creation. 

It gave them everything in abundance, and they also tried to add more with their craze with machines and heights. Truly an abundance of riches. There are so many golf clubs everywhere. No caddies. Mostly golf carts attempt to be the replacement. They work well. Caddies only carry our bags. Carts carry us too. Nowadays, our phones, with the help of golf apps like Golfshot & SwingU, give us the course layout, distance, wind direction, speed, etc. More or less, golf is golf, caddie or no caddie. Performance of the human mind and hand has its advantages, and technology has its own. Golfers will play golf, with or without aids. 

You may have robotic or manual assistance, but a bunker shot is a bunker shot. Not all golfers acquire the perfect skill of a bunker shot. Pros, amateurs, and general players all have many stories of their bunker bunks. 

Well, they say there is no wind on the moon. A footstep there will stay forever. Well, I haven’t been to the moon, but no wind can rake a bunker had I been there. 

Course and golf gear aside, it’s the player’s mood at that moment that counts. Win or lose, good moods always make memorable moments. After all, it’s the story that comes with the game that enriches our lives.

Where do I begin by Andy Williams 

Credits 

Google 

YouTube 

Golf Quotes

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf

Dream Chaser

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It would not lead you astray.”

Rumi

Some shots widen eyes, and some hits go shank. Some relations last longer, and some passions are temporary. Some tongues are meaningless, and some eyes say it all. Some truths fail you and lies become your guiding lighthouse. Some deserts live in hearts, and some flowers wither in gardens. Some sing lonely songs, and some dance in the streets. Some siblings are strangers, and the unknown eyes can capture hearts. Some roads never end, and some destinations follow us. Where there are hills there are ditches. Not all birds fly; some merely carry decorated wings. Neither all rocks roll nor all waters flow. All laughters don’t represent happiness, and all tears don’t shed grief. Some roots stay alive in drought, and all trunks don’t bloom in spring. Some words have no meaning, and some dreams drag themselves into reality. 

But some dreams don’t! Dreams are a virtual tour of a courtyard between the conscious and subconscious. A corridor between being and not being. A pause between asleep and awake. And a period between bud and bloom. 

Dreams are the wines of life.

I am neither a student of oneirology, nor I am an oenologist. Instead, the inebriation of all wines is both addictive and absorbing. Some stop sleeping in pursuit of their dreams and some live only to sleep. Some only walk in our lives to crash our dreams, and some come to teach us how to fulfill them. Dreams are our guides in life, those who understand that go ahead and realize them.

Dreams come to us in our sleep, but they are fulfilled when awake. There is no better time to wake up than early in the morning. Early risers usually are great dream chasers. Late sleepers would not count all galaxies since there are more stars in the sky than all grains of sand on earth. In perspective, we’ll never have enough time, but we have our present, our gift.

“For In the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.”

Khalil Gibran 

Not all wake up to chase their dreams, most only narrate them. I choose the middle path. I am a dreamer, both night and day dreamer. I chase them hard, and I do wake up early in the morning, not only to chase my dreams but to keep the dream of my golf going. I have formed a closer alliance with my health ever since I started making my dream of golf true. And golf itself graces me with great awakening. 

A golfer always dreams, day dreams to play better tomorrow. Although for some of us that tomorrow seldom comes. Golf is a game where we try to make the impossible possible. The hole is always beyond our sight. It’s only by aiming for success do we ever reach our destination. By the time we know, we’re already so far ahead. Sometimes we drink the wines of success, and sometimes we are blighted by sour regret. But every failure is a step towards success. Friends, keep dreaming and pursue your dreams wildly. 

“Any game where a man 60 can beat a man 30 ain’t no game.”

Burt

Credits

Google 

Golf Quotes

Motivation

Facts

Mystic Quotes

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com 

YouTube: Morning with Golf