“There is nothing more powerful than a changed mind.”

Les Brown 

September is in its last chapter. The sky is blue. The sun is shining. A pleasant breeze is flapping the tree leaves and daisies are still smiling. Tall trees are swaying in slow motion and the river is continuously flowing. Grass is green and leaves are still hanging on the branches. Only the temperature outside and on my iPhone are dropping by the day. 

Eighty degrees Fahrenheit is changing into the 70a, and then further into the 60s. On some nights it even touches the 40s. As the temperature drops, the daisies are diminishing in number, and the color of the leaves is changing gradually. Deer are seen less frequently, and chirping birds are also migrating. 

Only the river, and the stone benches on its banks, are unbothered and indifferent to the weather and its changes. Not all changes are occurring in the field of weather, however; rather, the universe goes through changes every moment. 

Transformation is proof that the creator of everything is satisfied with its creation, and that the process of creation is still alive and ever-present.

Everything you see has its roots

in the unseen world.

The forms may change,

yet the essence remains the same.

Every wondrous sight will vanish,

every sweet word will fade.

But do not be disheartened,

The Source they come from is eternal–

growing, branching out,

giving new life and new joy.

Why do you weep?–

That Source is within you,

and this whole world

is springing up from it.

The Source is full,

its waters are ever-flowing;

Do not grieve,

drink your fill!

Don’t think it will ever run dry–

This is the endless Ocean!

From the moment you came into this world,

a ladder was placed in front of you

that you might transcend it.

From earth, you became plant,

from plant you became animal.

Afterwards you became a human being,

endowed with knowledge, intellect and faith.

Behold the body, born of dust–

how perfect it has become!

Why should you fear its end?

When were you ever made less by dying?

When you pass beyond this human form,

no doubt you will become an angel

and soar through the heavens!

But don’t stop there.

Even heavenly bodies grow old.

Pass again from the heavenly realm

and plunge into the ocean of Consciousness.

Let the drop of water that is you

become a hundred mighty seas.

But do not think that the drop alone

becomes the Ocean

the Ocean, too, becomes the drop!”






Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

Noisy Fellow

“Saying nothing sometimes says the most.”

Emily Dickinson

Look around you, everyone is talking, either face to face or on the phone. You go to any restaurant and it will be noisy. In trains, buses, offices, streets, people are buzzing. Most of this talk is useless and a waste of time. Mostly gossiping, bragging, exaggerating, if ever people are silent, television, stereo, or radio would be filling the blanks. Notifications on our phones, our computers or other gadgets will be making noise. Even in the empty alleys we can hear the air conditioner, heating or exhaust fizzing. In short we live in noise.

There are three types of noise: one you hear through your ears and the second that exists in your mind. And that is the noise your conscience makes.

“Your noise is my silence.”


The third noise is that of your heart. That noise means you are alive.

Some hearts beat with the tunes of the universe and others beat with the rhythm of existence. When the tune of the universe, rhythm of time and your heart beat united, you become one with it all. That’s when you become spiritual.

“In things spiritual, there is no partition, no number, no individuals. How sweet is the oneness – unearth the treasure of unity.”


Not all sounds are heard by the ears. Some soothe our souls, others cloud our intentions, more pollute our sleep. Such clamors are mostly soporific and sometimes sore.

It is the absence of devoutness and our over-ambitious chattel that throw us into the inferno of voracity. We need to look beyond this ravenous race of gain and grant! Just to spend a few moments with ourselves and look inward.

“Spirituality has nothing to do with the atmosphere you live in. It is about the atmosphere you created within yourself.”


In the fast lane on the highway of life, we want to cross them all. At the office we try to outperform all of our colleagues. On the golf course we try to birdie every hole. The desire of being on the top lives in all of us. The size of the wish list itself produces a considerable noise. Noise of dreams, nightmares and reveries is another chapter in the anecdote of noise.

In the universe that was made out of nothing, noise is the proof of existence. In the stillness of death, the noise of breath is a reference to life.

Haider Ali Atish a legendary poet in Urdu,

“بڑا شور سُنتے تھے پہلو میں دل کا

جو چیرا تو اک قطرہِ خوں نہ نکلا”

“My heart made a lot of noise while in my chest, there was not even a drop of blood in there upon opening.”

Sound, the basic ingredient of noise, is not always unpleasant. Mostly it represents greetings, joy, hilariousness, like in concerts and gospels. Let’s arrange a party, a seance, or a karaoke.

Let’s make noise that our hearts stir. Noise is not what you make; noise is what you are. May be the most noisy fellows across universes.

“Feel the delight of walking in the noisy street and begin the noise.”






Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf


It was Sunday, the roads were empty and George Washington Bridge was enjoying the rarity of less traffic. We cruised so smoothly all through the journey to reach at Trump Golf Links at Ferry Point within no time. Having empty roads in the New York City area is a luxury so is playing golf at Trump links. We enjoyed it all. In the crew were two dear friends from childhood. Instead of my writings today I am presenting lyrics of Rumi that are about friendship. 

“Give the beautiful ones mirrors, 

and let them fall in love with 


That way they polish their souls 

and kindle remembering in others. 

A close childhood friend once came 

to visit Joseph. They had shared the 

secrets that children tell each other 

when they’re lying on their pillows 

at night before they go to sleep. 

These two were completely truthful 

with each other. 

The friend asked, “What was it like 

when you realized your brothers were 

jealous and what they planned to do?” 

“I felt like a lion with a chain around 

its neck. Not degraded by the chain, and 

not complaining, but just waiting for my 

power to be recognized.” 

“How about down in the well, and in 

prison? How was it then?” 

“Like the moon when it’s getting 

smaller, yet knowing the fullness to 

come. Like a seed pearl ground in the 

mortar for medicine, that knows it will 

now be the light of the human eye. 

Like a wheat grain that breaks open in 

the ground, then grows, then gets 

harvested, then crushed in the mill for 

flour, then baked, then crushed again 

between teeth to become a person’s 

deepest understanding. 

Lost in Love, like songs the planters 

sing the night after they sow the seed.” 

There is no end to any of this. 

Back to something else the good man 

and Joseph talked about. 

“Ah my friend, what have you brought me? 

You know a traveler should not arrive 

empty handed at the door of a friend 

like me. That’s going to the grinding 

stone without your wheat. God will ask 

at the Resurrection, ‘Did you bring Me 

a present? Did you forget? Did you think 

you wouldn’t see Me?’ 

Joseph kept teasing, 

“Lets have it. I want my gift!” 

The guest began, “You can’t imagine how 

I’ve looked for something for you. 

Nothing seemed appropriate. You don’t 

take gold down into a goldmine, or a 

drop of water to the Sea of Oman! 

Everything I thought of was like 

bringing cumin seed to Kirmanshah where 

cumin comes from. 

You have all seeds in your barn. You 

even have my love and my soul, so I 

can’t even bring those. 

I’ve brought you a mirror. Look at 

yourself, and remember me.” 

He took the mirror out from his robe 

where he was hiding it. 

What is the mirror of being? 


Always bring a mirror of non-existence 

as a gift. Any other present is foolish. 

Let the poor man look deep intogenerosity. Let the bread see a hungry 

man. Let kindling behold a spark from 

the flint. 

An empty mirror and your worst 

destructive habits, when they are held 

up to each other, 

that’s when the real making begins. 

That’s what art and crafting are. 

A tailor needs a torn garment to 

practice his expertise. The trunks of 

trees must be cut and cut again 

so they can be used for fine carpentry. 

Your doctor must have a broken leg to 

doctor. Your defects are the ways that 

glory gets manifested. Whoever sees 

clearly what’s diseased in himself 

begins to gallop on the Way. 

There is nothing worse 

than thinking you are well enough. 

More than anything, self-complacency 

blocks the workmanship. 

Put your vileness up to a mirror and 

weep. Get that self-satisfaction flowing 

out of you! Satan thought, “I am better 

than Adam,” and that *better than* is 

still strongly in us. 

Your stream-water may look clean, 

but there’s unstirred matter on the 

bottom. Your Sheikh can dig a side 

channel that will drain that waste off. 

Trust your wound to a Teacher’s surgery. 

Flies collect on a wound. They cover it, 

those flies of your self-protecting 

feelings, your love for what you think 

is yours. 

Let a teacher wave away the flies 

and put a plaster on the wound. 

Don’t turn your head. Keep looking at 

the bandaged place. That’s where the 

light enters you. 

And don’t believe for a moment 

that you’re healing yourself.”


— Mathnawi, I, 3150-3175, 3192-3227 

Version by Coleman Barks 

(Developed from the translation by Nicholson) 

“The Essential Rumi”

Trump Links Golf @ Ferry Point



Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube : morning with golf

How Old Are You

“My place is the Placeless; my trace is the Traceless:

This is neither body nor soul, for I belong to the soul of

the Beloved. I have put duality away, I have seen that

the two worlds are one: One I seek, one I know, one I see, one I call.”

— Rumi

The James Webb Space Telescope recently has opened doors to the possibility of answering questions that are as old as humanity itself—if not even more ancient. The telescope is trying to observe an unimaginable phenomenon, almost going back to the beginning of the universe. Scientists are anxious to see as far back as the Big Bang and beyond. They are getting more impatient by the hour, as Webb’s observations have revealed pictures of the galaxies that are almost thirteen billion years old.

Time travel is a lingering romance of the scientific community, and scientists have developed a way to peek into the distant past and more. Man’s belief and imagination have gone through these distances and even further, time after time. Humans have claimed to have revelations from the skies and outer worlds. 

Those messages came through holy persons. Part of those messages narrates that everything was created from nothing. Some holy people have claimed the universe was made in seven days and seven nights, and that, ever since then, the universe has been expanding. 

They already claim that the angels come to the earth from extraterrestrial horizons. Their holy books witness the presence of worlds like heavens and hells. They already believe in the soul and in spiritual journeys. They also accept the existence of spirits, giants, witches, and fairies.  

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1, NRSV alternate reading). God speaks, and things come into being that were not there before, beginning with the universe itself. Creation is solely an act of God. It is not an accident, a mistake, or the product of an inferior deity, but the self-expression of God.

They believe their souls were present in some outer world before they were injected into their bodies. They believe that their forefather and mother—namely, Adam and Eve—were sent to the earth from another world. 

“You are as old as the universe, because matter can not be created or destroyed. In the deepest level, you are the universe experiencing itself.”

— Astrovia 1 @ instagram 

They further believe that their souls travel to somewhere in the skies after their deaths. They think their stay on earth is a stopover in the grand arrangement of the journey of their souls. 

بلھے شاہ اساں مرنا نہ ہی گور پیا کوئی ہور

“I am not dead, it is merely my body that rests in my grave.”

They believe angels can travel faster than light and black holes. Yes, science is trying to see the universe and its dwellers physically. Scientists are trying to find worlds like earth containing life as it exists on earth. 

The extraterrestrial horizons and their residents may not need oxygen or water. They may not need to feed themselves with carbs and proteins. 

The capacities of the JWST and of similar inventions might find something that initially existed in our holy scriptures or in our beliefs. In the meantime, we can read more about physics, astronomy, and math. We can be patient and make each other’s lives peaceful and prosperous. And there’s no better way to begin than by sharing smiles with each other. 

“Smile is a moment when the soul and body are in complete harmony.”

Ahsan Jamil 


KJV Holy Bible





Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

Golf in Empire State

“Give me golf clubs, fresh air and a beautiful partner, and you can keep the clubs and fresh air.”

Jack Benny

The blue sky, dense and leafy trees, lush green grass, the breathtaking duet of the perennial and yarrow, and the recurring appearance of the purple admiral make walking on the fairways equal to a Babylonian stroll. The melodies of the blue jays and northern cardinals, as well as the guest appearances of the white tailed deer, add more to the summer greetings of the golf avenues of the Empire State. Oh! how can I forget to mention the repercussions of the invites and smiles of the cart girls. The greasy aroma of the Corona and thirsty burbling of colorful Gatorade add another level to North American golfers’ experience. There are very few golf courses where golfers can escape the white fleet of swans. Many golf courses hire dogs to clear swan poop. Turkey also ambulate on the fairways every now and then. Sometimes a peeking fox or a determined turtle also graces the occasion. Rabbits, raccoons and squirrels are frequent spectators, and rarely snakes would appear to warn the golfers to stay on the fairways. I am sure there’s much more in those woods, but I wouldn’t follow them there.

“When you feel a peaceful joy,

That’s when you are near the truth.”


Branded attire, fashionable shades, bot carts, expensive rangefinders, DMDs, smartphone apps, and golf watches are more essential than the wedges. Some even smoke cigars to give their shots more executive looks. Like most other things, golf in New York is also by appointment. You just can’t walk in with your bag on your shoulders. Caddies are a rare luxury, and cart rates are no less than Uber. 

Shanks and slices are an international phenomenon that knows no geography. Miss hits, overthinking, and bad tempo are common in all continents. The mistakes of golf are beyond racial discrimination. All of these things don’t matter if you would pay attention to what else is going on at the golf course. 

New Yorkers spend more time looking for each other’s stray balls than on the fairways. Music in the carts, laughter at the fellow golfers’ mistakes. The sweet and sour four-letter words “f—k” and “s—t” are widely administered on the course. The off-course utilization of these two words is also welcomed. 

A few other four-letter words—“well done,” and “good shot”—are also used frequently. The flights in North America mostly form the perfect rainbow of multiculturalism. If New York was a melting bowl of difference, its golfers were the stew it made. The acceptance of all genders and of transgender people is admirable. Blacks, whites, browns and yellows! Chirstians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists, all in the pursuit of pars and birdies, playing in complete harmony.  

“We are the world, oh,

There’s a choice we’re making

We’re serving our own lives

It’s true we are making a better day

Just you and me.”

Lionel Richie / Micheal Jackson


Ahsan Jamil

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

Dialect of Golf

“Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.”

Khalil Gibran

While I was in Istanbul, I went to play golf at Kemer Golf & Country Club. It was not a short drive from my hotel at Bosphorus, but the trip was worthwhile. I felt reassured seeing that they had SIM rental clubs, since I was playing with those at home. The caddie knew no English, nor did I know Turkish. It was my first experience with a foreign caddie. Another country, another club, another language, another caddie — same golf set and same game. 

I was amazed to see that golf has its own dialect. We understood each other perfectly. I remember that particular caddie today, because I just faced a similar situation at a golf course in New York. I was paired with three Koreans, and none of them spoke English. Being a veteran at the club, I was familiar with the course. I told them I was a foreigner like them but that I had played at the club numerous times. 

In order to understand the course layout, they decided to give me the tee permanently in that round so that they could read my shots and know my intended line and length. I was wondering, “Was it a smart move on their part?” Only time would tell.

During the round, I was performing better than usual. My tee shots were straight, and I was riding the hour. While playing, I learned two Korean words: Oenjjog (left) and Oleunjjog (right). 

My mind was busy imagining how humans developed the language for the very first time. 

At the course, foreign caddies and foreign players used gestures and signs to communicate, and so did I. Gestural language might have given birth to vocal language. This notion gives me a whole new topic for research. Only then would I be able to write about the history of language.  

Speaking of language, I wonder if the greenery of the course itself carried a dialect. 

The trees, shrubs, short grass of the green, long grass of the rough, boundary of the sand pits, banks of the water hazards, and snaking paths across the fairways actually speak to us. They communicate directly to our subconscious through a silent pronunciation. They can sense our moods through our footsteps. The rolling ball tells them the stories of frustrated and hilarious moments. The rhyme of our steps, the oscillating trees, the design of the manicured fairways, the wilderness of the rough, the smile of the greens, and the chirping of the birds all create a panoramic anthem —

the anthem that invites the golfer again and again to be part of it, to be one with nature. 

Nature and man are two vital phenomena in this universe.

Like the great poet Iqbal says,

You created night, I made the lamp

You created land, I made grail

You created deserts, mountains and meadows,

I made streets and gardens.

I am the one who makes mirror from the sand; I am the one who makes syrup from the poison.

Man’s creativity with natural resources is remarkable and unmatched. Human beings make boats from wood, and they make flutes from it, too. They burn it for warmth and pack their dead bodies in it. Tree is nature’s great creation, and man manifests its utility. He does so with so many other natural things. 

If nature would only allow humans to continue! They will make the rest of the stars their homes. Humans have made a strong web of roads on the earth and — most recently — developed the highways in space.  

All roads that man made eventually end at certain points, but their journey does not. If the universe is endless, if time is infinite, so too is human desire for more. 

“You show your worth by what you seek.”



Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

An Incomplete Birdie

A passion, an obsession, a romance, a nice acquaintanceship with trees, sand and water”

Bob Ryan

Some thoughts in our minds come from far beyond our horizons and some grow inside our minds. Our deeds sometimes reap feelings of pride and at others, shame. We sow some seeds of good and sometimes we nourish evil. The contributions we make in this world sometimes satisfy us and other times haunt us. Tears sometimes represent joy and at other times, gloom. Sometimes an orchestra goes unheard and sometimes our silence stirs a song. 

The best path to happiness is gratitude and in sadness, the best road to take is patience. 

Sometimes peace comes through prayer and at others it follows the sobs. We learn all this on the path of life and on the fairways and greens too. 

Golf is a game that teaches us to keep our balance both in good and bad times. Sometimes we get on the green in regulation. We expect to make a birdie or par. Instead we end up with an annoying bogie. Sometimes we reach the green in bad shape and one long putt surprises us with a par. The greatest thing I enjoy about golf is the ever present element of surprise. I love golf for the way it provides the opportunity to make a comeback after every bad move.  

The way it teaches us to forget the shank and think about the next shot. In golf, the most important shot is the next shot, not the previous. 

Today while I was playing a round of golf at New York countryside, the 7th hole was a par 3 on this slope 125, par 70 course, 169 from white tees. The flag stood in the middle. A huge bunker covers the entire front of the green with sand. A sharp wind blowing from the opposite direction and a bit of cloudy weather added to the conditions. I pulled my rescue 4 and hit straight to the flag. A great trajectory landing in the middle of the green, assisted by a spin stopped at a yard’s length. That seemed rather close from the tee. I started walking off the tee among great applause from my fellow flight members. I could smell an upcoming birdie as I was getting into my golf cart. I waited for a couple of friends to make their bunker shots. Mine was the last turn because I was closer to the pin.

One of them made a phenomenal putt from a distance, claiming a par. I read the green in detail from all sides of the pin. Finally I had a plan ready to make a putt. I practiced twice. Gluing my eyes to the ball, I eventually took the short without an iota of doubt. My line was perfect. Speed was accurate. I could hear the building roar of my colleagues. I was standing there full of pride, anticipating a great birdie. The ball began to roll and stopped at the lip of the hole. I missed it by just another turn, by one more flip, by the lack of one more ounce of being. 

Thus the surprises of golf and the astonishment of wider life are no different. We achieve and lose so many targets in life, just by moments or inches. It doesn’t matter what we get or not. What matters is trying. Only those who try may succeed.  

It’s not the destination that matters, it’s the journey. Sobs and smiles together make a life. It Is full of variety and taste. 

“The core of the seen and unseen universe smiles, but remember smiles come best from those who weep.”



Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

Naked Roots

“Whoever has seen a river doesn’t resent giving water to the thirsty.”


A cool breeze dancing through the tall trees tries to win over the peeping sunlight in this dense forest. The River under these trees runs determined and confident. The strong rocks and pebbles are irrelevant to the flow of the water. They rather add to the ambiance of the River. A crowd of naked roots of the trees on both banks of the River tell the story of eroded soil. I can hear the hymns of separation that these roots are singing in honor of the departed clay. The fresh leaves however clap in gratitude of being born again. Sporadically I can see small fish floating in the stagnant part of the River. A bunch of birds are out on prey. Some fly away with their beaks full. Others are desperately trying. Fish won’t give up its claim on these temporary ponds. I can see a turtle neck appearing and disappearing in the rocks on the bank of the River. It also has valid authority over these territories. 

A couple of sparrows are also flapping their wings after diving in the shallow side of the River. They are fully absorbed in their romantic bathing. Alone I sit on a stone bench on the bank, trying to read a book through my phone. I am  trying my best to belong to the atmosphere and sit there as one of them. Yet I am unable to read my book rather the book of nature invites me to read this place. 

The nature around this bench blossoms in full bloom. Living and the matter together sing a song of harmony.  The flora and fauna, carbon and clay all live in peace here. Only I want things to change. I want the grass mowed, stone bench to sit, the hanging branches trimmed, clothes to cover myself, etc. Everything else, being as it is made, praise each other yet I appreciate this place in another way. I want to use it. While all other things cherish each other. I want my own environment when other things like it the way it is. 

I know how to tame or eat the fauna, how to exploit or burn the flora, how to manipulate or use the carbon and how to handle or cultivate the soil. I have power to administer the River. I am human. I am the master of it all and my Master created all of it for me. 

It may be so but do I owe my master for all these blessings. Yes I am under obligation to protect and preserve it. If not for its sake for the survival of my own offsprings. For the betterment of my next generations. Exploit but responsibly. Manipulative but reasonably. Use it respectably. Enjoy it, don’t destroy it. 

“It moves at its own measured pace, for it has no reason to hurry. Tomorrow will come in its own good time.”

Sidney Sheldon


Ahsan Jamil 

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

The Masters

“The very center of your heart is where life begins. The most beautiful place on the earth.”


While New York is known for Manhattan and its skyscrapers, the state has much more to offer than that. Most of us usually don’t get a chance to see the rest of the state. Golfers, however, tend to go deep into the countryside, where they are able to experience a different aspect of New York. Today TeeOff booked me at a golf course called the Blue Hill Golf Course at Pearl River, New York. Pearl River is located beyond the Hudson River near Interstate 87. Leading from New York to Canada, I-87 is a beautiful, scenic road that takes you away from the heights of the concrete jungle to the heights of real hills. The Blue Hill is one of them. 

The championship golf course, featuring 27 holes, overlooks the Tappan Lake in Pearl River, which is the largest hamlet in Orangetown, New York.

Blue sky, shining sun, lush green surroundings, reflective water hazards, smiling bunkers, glossy greens, and mischievous fairways make it worth the ride. On the other hand, ascending and descending hills and recurring dogleg fairways add more to the challenge. I was paired with two New Yorkers. They knew the course like the palm of their hand. They pointed out the proper landing spots for me on some difficult fairways. Although it’s not easy to land a golf ball at the intended spots, I still came fairly close. One of those shots hit the tree branches and fell at a compromised location. I was disappointed when I reached the ball: there was no shot there. As I bowed to pick my ball up, I saw a gap at the bottom tree line. There were 70 yards, a bunch of trees, and two bunkers between the green and me. Desperately, but confidently, I pulled a 7 iron out of my bag. I played a stinger, a punch shot. My ball, flying low, crossed the rough and the bunkers and gently rolled on the edge of the green. I knew that one shot was a display of my skill and planning. I still am enjoying that one strike. My flight mates cheered my strike, and I felt good. 

Golf would not keep you happy for long in a round. The honor and hilarious times are very short-lived in the game of golf. So why is golf so addictive? The element of surprise remains active in the game until the last putt. 

“Golf can best be defined as an endless series of tragedies obscured by the occasional miracle.”


The Blue Hill Golf Course kept me engaged with its amazing scenery. The eighth tee box at the woodlands course surprised me with a grand view of Tappan Lake. 

It’s a par three.  The tee is on the top of the hill, and the green is at bottom, almost at the edge of the lake. Only a small country road separates them. It’s a beautiful scene and a difficult shot.

The ninth hole goes along the lake until it turns a bit to the right. I didn’t have time to continue for the 18th. Still, it was a good run. I can’t wait to return there.


Ahsan Jamil

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



YouTube: Morning with Golf

Drives in Daytona

“Some human beings are safe havens. Be companions with them.”


Although I don’t know the language of the birds yet, there is no better place than the LPGA International golf course to learn it. An orchestra of chirping followed by the hammering of woodpeckers entwines my heart and soul then and there. Waves of enlightening melody and currents of soothing rhythm invite my intellect to create lyrics for the environment. All of a sudden, my flight mate in this round points out a couple of red-winged blackbirds. The amazing color scheme at their shoulders reminds me of the epaulettes of the pilots. The captains flew away as I was taking their pics. I can guess they didn’t like the liberty I took to capture their happy moments. 

Golf doesn’t like diverted attention and the next shank tried to remind me that I was there for the game and not for the concert of the wing flappers. 

As I was getting fully involved in the game again, my other flight mate, knowing my deep interest in nature, showed me a couple of red cardinals. Wow, Florida’s residents are so colorful! As my eyes were trailing the flight of a red cardinal over the lake, I couldn’t move them any further. I could feel a current of horror running through my spine when I saw two big eyes gradually but mysteriously floating toward me in the neighboring swamp. My legs were frozen for a few seconds and I wasn’t interested in the tee box anymore. The presence of an alligator so close to me challenged my love for nature within seconds. On the other hand, Floridians paid no heed to the swamp monster. Many things grow with us as we are brought up in a society. This brief encounter with the alligators of Daytona Beach golf course stayed with me throughout my second round on Hills Course as well. Our own fears live and die with us throughout our life spans. 

The famous golf course adds something to my game as well. Although I am playing with rental clubs, I am amazed by my own game.

I am used to playing with different clubs on different courses in different weather among different cultures. This morning, the whole course was working together to make me play better. The curvilinear coordinates of the fairways, Washingtonia robustas (Mexican fan palms, vascular plants like ferns), saw palmettos, the snake-shaped wooden bridges, not to mention the encouraging attitude of my flight mates all improved my game. We all made birdies one after another. Of course the short par three also helped. The company was even greater than all things put together. 

How can I ever forget my arrival at Daytona Beach, Florida? A cherished childhood friend came to collect me from the airport. Nature appreciates in its own way when two sincere people meet, therefore it arranged a cool breeze and a mesmerising rainbow to accompany us as we cruised through the newly built expressway. How else can a city welcome you better?

“Many people will walk in and out of your life but only true friends will leave footprints on your heart.”

Eleanor Roosevelt 

A walk on Daytona Beach Shores, the boardwalk, the crowd at the pier, breakfast at Hard Rock Cafe, lunch at Aunt Catfish’s On The River, supper at Crabby’s Oceanside, cruising by the Daytona 500 arena on Daytona International Speedway Boulevard, a drive on the beach in a convertible BMW-8, in the company of a very dear childhood friend, jamming on Bon Jovi & Laura Brannigan – it was a party. On top of that, I was under the care of my son during the whole trip. The old man had it all. 


Ahsan Jamil 

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



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