The Wings of Love

It begins with a glance and ends in tears. It rises from waiting and leads to longing. Once the eyes meet, the calm departs. When beauty arrives …

The Wings of Love

The Wings of Love

It begins with a glance and ends in tears. It rises from waiting and leads to longing. Once the eyes meet, the calm departs. When beauty arrives through one door, the heart leaves through the other. When love lands in the valley of a heart’s chamber the magic echoes in the mountains of existence. The nights begin to sing and the stars break into a dance. The moon initiates intimacy and the wind becomes the bearer of love letters. Dreams dominate the days and mornings become mischievous. Love is the land of hallucination and the sea of daydreams. Lovers’ reasoning begins to shrink and their faith tends to expand. The bells of love ring in silence and the beat of the heart grows louder. Hope swells taller and fear dissipates. Pain attains panacea and suffering promotes patience. 

Why people fall in love is an enigma, while the path of hatred has thousands of excuses. Hatred narrows a mind and love opens hearts. Love seeks blessings and hatred breeds jealousy. Love opens chapters of sacrifice and hatred dismantles integrity. Love builds couples and hatred crumbles marriages. Love evokes negotiation and hatred wages wars. Love ushers the gift of life and death is the offspring of hatred. Love heals while hate wounds. Love breeds babies while hate  gives way to funerals. 

Love at times is nothing short of a miracle, if not a welcome gift from the universe. Love touches the souls of lovers and ignites their passions. It plunges the recipients towards an inebriated journey to destinations unknown and paths unwalked. 

Love leads to humbleness. It grooms patience, blossoms beauty, and heals wounds. It is the only sensation that melts iron hearts, and allows one to embrace empathy. Love is the ultimate cleanser of closed minds, and allows one to reach the epitome of truth. Love must be revered for its ability to bring to attention the ignored, for allowing hearts to open up to those who have otherwise been neglected or rejected. Love is the promise of being held during a fall or a fail. Love enlightens the ignorant, and brightens the corroded. Love awakens the unspirited. Love is the rewriter of destiny, the reinforcer of candour, and the rekindler of passions. Love revives sincerity, and multiplies feelings. It reinforces dignity and allows one to step into divinity. 

On the path of love we find flowers, fragrance, farries, fruits, fun, frankness, freedom, flourishment, and freshness in the midst of sharp stones, harsh deserts, wet prairies, and scorching heat. Love rides on hope and flies with faith. It caresses our spirits and cuddles us closely. It distributes happiness and spreads serenity.

“And happiness is something that multiplies when it is divided.” — Paulo Coelho

Once the truth of love begins to speak, the remaining facts of life go silent. Socrates did not drink the bowl of hemlock merely for truth. Rather, he drank it for the love of truth. Love sometimes kills people like Socrates and sometimes it saves thrones. Cleopatra, one woman who nearly destroyed two civilisations, conquered the hearts of invaders through love. Love of American divorcee Wallis Warfield Simpson makes Edward VIII abdicate the throne of England. Love fertilizes the barren fields of rugged minds and irrigates the dry gardens of empty spirits.  

Love brings followers out of their dogmatic slumber and introduces them to purity. 

Love is a strange phenomenon. I don’t know whether it gives or takes. I can not say whether it makes or breaks. But surely it changes a person completely, if not irreversibly. Many lovers that I have come across eventually ascended the ladder of ingenuity. Most artists, painters, poets, singers, writers, and warriors soar to the heights of creativity only when they passionately fall in love with someone or with their own work. Love broadens one’s vision and deepens a lover’s horizons. It teaches us to become introspective towards the many wonderful aspects of life around us. And perhaps more importantly, it is poignant in its ability to be the most authentic ambassador of peace and harmony in this world. 

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Soul in the words

By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

The Red Rose

As I reached home after an abysmal round at the Margalla Greens Golf Club, I was feeling defeated and drained. When I got out of my car, a dazzling red rose magnetically struck me. It was smiling at me in a welcoming gesture. It was at its full bloom as it turned completely towards the East, enjoying the rays of the winter sun. The stems were dancing to their own tunes under the rhythmic sunshine. I stopped in my step to appreciate the glory of the red rose. Earlier I had seen my gardener work diligently on these plants. Now his labor and sweat have flourished into florets and their blooms. Although the rose sits on the stem full of thorns, it smiles to cheer me up. Immediately, I had a great swing in my mood, better than the one I was waiting for at the golf course. 

I had an epiphany that everything has a higher purpose of being, sometimes more than we can conceive. It can be disputed but I strongly felt the purpose of this particular rose was to stimulate me today. This beautiful piece of nature was trying to open my eyes to the fact that it was a beautiful morning. After all, I played golf on a very scenic course. I was in great company with decent golfers. A Ph.D. and a Brigadier General. They were both fine human beings and veteran sportsmen. We had a scrumptious breakfast, accompanied by lively jokes and prudent discussion. Only for a few bad golf shots, I was trying to cast aside every good thing about the day. Whereas I should have been grateful for so many wonderful things throughout the morning. 

Why is it that we ignore our blessings and welcome the disdain in our lives? We disregard the beauty that surrounds us, the wisdom that enlightens us, and the inspiration that invites us. All because sometimes we are uptight and consumed by one tiny problem that we simply refuse to see anything else. May it be the relief of that very problem. There are many things like that rose in this world solely created to oblige its dwellers. We should utilize and appreciate them. 

How should Spring bring forth a garden on hard stone? Become earth, that you may grow flowers of many colors. For you have been heart-breaking rock. Once, for the sake of experiment, be earth!

Rumi 

In a pragmatic society that is driven by tests and trials, victories and losses, we easily get swollen by routine drawbacks. In friendly matches, it’s not important who wins. What matters most is to be there in the field, in the company of good people, being part of that great ambiance like a golf course. Even a worse round of golf provides some positivity and productivity. We can take defeat as a lesson and practice, walk, exercise, and chat. We also crack jokes, meet the cart girls, hear the bird chirpings, see a lot of green and life, and much more during a round. All we need is grateful nature, appreciative eyes, and open hearts. We can walk out of any match in life smiling like that red flower. No rose grows without thorns and no victory comes without loss. 

“Patience is not sitting and waiting, it is foreseeing. It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose, looking at the night and seeing the day.

Rumi

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Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Royalty, Peasants and Golf

Made out of plastic and rubber, the golf ball resembles an egg. The club is made of graphite or steel and rubber. All of it is a lifeless matter, yet the stick swings at such a high speed that causes the ball to take a flight to hundreds of yards. Only for a brief moment, both the stick and ball become alive. It is almost as if the life in the human hand and thought in the human mind gets translated into the club and then into the ball. It’s a continuous process of movement and idleness. Science calls it a shift of energy, players call it a sport. The game is an activity that cannot be transmitted into these lines through still words. It is an act to operate something. The action presents life and stillness represents lifelessness. The living motivates growth and the dead adds to debris. 

Some lead a deathlike life, a few live in deadly conditions. Some give in to the hardships of life while others stand firm to face all odds. Some commit suicide and others kill to live longer. Some are dead men walking, others are crippled but running. It’s not only the breath that is proof of our existence. It is the celebration of life that matters. Ultimately, hard work is the best way to relish life. One of the lighter ways to appreciate life is to play golf. 

Humans tend to complicate things in pursuit of perfection. Golf was invented by the colts of Scotland. By the fifteenth century, to keep the spirit of competition warm in the cold environment, the open, vast, and lush valleys invited the wool worn and restless hillside youth to come out of their smoky dungeons and play. They found plenty of the bent wooden sticks from the Scot fields and pebbles from the Eastern beaches. They began to hit those round stones over the sand dunes and ponds to a pinned point. Thus golf comes into being. Men played many games with sticks. Ancient Romans played with bent sticks and stuffed leather balls. Punjabis played with a straight stick and a small wooden ball-like straight object called ‘Guli Danda.’

Later on in Scotland, royals became interested in the game of golf and declared it a glorified sport. Kings have the tendency to transgress simple matters into a complex and expensive affair. Royals or vagabond thrill and beauty thrives them alike. The landscape of Scotland provided beauty, thrill, and chill while golf added more excitement.

Wherever on this Earth, a peasant locates a piece of the valley that can be cultivated while the rich always find a law that helps him to own that land. The same happened to their game of golf. The peasants became caddies and royalty became the player. The colonial-era introduced it across the continents. And later on, capitalism transcribed it as a commercial sport of the elite. For centuries this game entertained the rich and provided dough for the poor. The invention of Scottish youth opened new avenues of employment for them though, Coach, caddie, gardener, carpenter, blacksmith, the tailors, cloth merchants, and many others got opportunities to earn more. 

First Wille Anderson, then Arnold Palmer, and now Tiger Woods and many other enthusiasts like them helped to bring golf back to the spheres of its original owners, the common men. Now golf is accessible to all. It is an industry worth billions of dollars. People like Nick Faldo are trying their best to take the game to the doorsteps of the communities that otherwise can not reach a window of opportunity. His work witnesses his love and contributions to golf and golfers. 

Poverty produces innovation and richness promotes luxury. Needs breed invention and knowledge springs comfort. Practice creates improvement and hard work nurtures perfection. If we multiply all of the above it surmounts to greatness. That is how golf ascended from the dunes of eastern Scotland to the top destinations at all corners of the world. What a journey from a pebble to expensive balls like Titleist Pro V1 and what an improvement from brentwood to golf clubs by Ping etc. The designs of golf resorts and the engineering and ambiance of the golf courses speak volumes of human progress. Humans’ capacity to improve, change, innovate, and invent may soon take us to golf courses on the far-flung stars within or beyond our universe. 

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Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Holding On

Holding On

https://golfaij.com/2020/11/21/holding-on/
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Big Apple

On a hot summer morning, a young bride and her enthusiastic husband wait in an old Honda Accord. They are right at the mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel to cross into the big apple, New York City. The hurtling traffic was annoying as usual but on the radio, FM 103 was a relief. Renowned guitarist Jimmy Page and famous drummer John Bonham both jamming On Tie-Dyeing, the beats making it impossible for Robert Plant to add vocals. The sensational work of the bassist John Paul Jones was the only thread in The Song Remains The Same that kept the rhythm of Led Zeppelin intact. The young couple was enjoying the tripping tunes and psychedelic throbs shaking their heads while tapping their fingers on the steering wheel and glove apartment. NYC is noisy and chaotic but the inside of the car is louder and crazier. In the midst of it all, their young hearts care for nothing but being together. As long as they were stuck together, they didn’t mind the traffic jams of the Big Apple. As they snailed out of the tunnel, a crowd of skyscrapers welcomed them. The awe of American architecture filled them with anticipation. The narrow streets gestured them to open their country hearts to the city. 

She is an innocent beauty and he is mischievously young. With the knowledge of NYC being a dream tourist destination in their hearts, they embrace for it. Tourists flock from all over the world and Times Square is the pivotal point. From the top of the Empire State Building to the banks of Hudson River, visitors reign this city predominantly. The couple leaves the car in a parking lot and begin to float with the stream of the sightseers. Though they were in the crowd, they were only with each other, exploring it all together. A jungle of concrete, steel, glass, height, and people – all representing the twentieth-century lifestyle. The travelers’ backpacks, jeans, joggers, cameras, and shades were in complete contrast with the suits, skirts, office bags, and eyeglasses of the locals. 

The people with rude expressions walking briskly and impatiently crisscrossing the crowd were New Yorkers. The polite people moving leisurely were the outsiders. Some were in a hurry and others were at ease. So, is life in the rest of the country. In cities, the clock controls people and in the countryside, they have plenty of time. Life in cities is a race and in the county, it is a calm walk.  

New York City and all other urban centers run on a speed rush, hustle-bustle, and currency. This island city is connected with the outer world from under and over the water. Many modes of transportation like seaports, tunnels, roads, bridges, airports, railways, and chairlifts assist commuters 24/7. Herds of pedestrians, bicycles, horse carts, cycle rickshaws, paragliding, jet skiing, boats, ships, helicopters, planes are at work to entertain the city. Golf courses, stadiums, tennis, and squash courts are also at their service round the year. NYC nightlife is one of its own. Top jazz and blues bands perform here regularly. No rocker is a star till he gets applauds from New Yorkers. 

The young couple was only interested in spending a day together with a practical lunch and window shopping. Happiness and love are not the enterprises of the rich. Although the couple’s pockets were thin, they were thick in endearment. It is a time of struggle for them. They knew about ‘Lutece’, a renowned French restaurant of the hour. Yet their budget has its own limitations. A hot dog and New York-style pizza will suffice at times like these. Today they will settle only on that.

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Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Holding On

The East horizon was liberating the sun gradually on that beautiful morning. The grass held onto the dewdrops dearly. Trees basked in the sun, and the flowers yawned to bloom. I fit in with nature with my blue golf attire, and my trusty Taylormade M6 kit by my side. The crew wore nice colognes that blended with the environment perfectly. The young caddie was chipper, and I was planning to play better than yesterday.  

While my fellow flyers began their tee shots long and straight, I started with a bad one in the deep rough. The crew tried to keep their laughter at bay, but their desire to mock me was evident. I strolled forward and planned the next shot in my head. Unfortunately, my second shot was no better than the first. Somehow, I reached the back edge of the green in five shots on par four. I made another three-putt finishing par four in eight. During the rest of the round, I kept trying my best but to no avail. This has become a matter of routine ever since I had played a match at Faisalabad. It seems that the game has disappeared on me. My learnings and skills continually refuse to return. After such a performance, even my caddie is unable to hold back his mischievous laughs. What’s worse is that my enthusiasm at the office resembles my spirit at golf. I have a wonderful family, great friends, and a satisfying list of achievements. I am wondering why I feel empty these days? Is it the age? Is the ever-burning flame of my soul dwindling?

One thing I know to be true is that when failure becomes a routine, one begins to rot. When nothing feels right, the game begins to scatter, failing is frequent, hope starts to fade, friends find you boring, teammates look bothered, and the family seems concerned. It is as if the whole world can tell something is wrong when the player is not in the game. It’s a quick giveaway. 

I have concluded that I need a stir, a shakeup, a jolt. The thrill is gone. I feel like stagnant water, I am yearning for the currents or a storm. I need to hit thunderbird shots, and I ought to run a thoroughbred race or the decay will lead to dust. 

During the fall season, I need to ensure I do not shed like one of the dry leaves. I know it is the time I should hold on to something or someone strong. Perhaps, I should find guidance from books; they have always helped. I can seek help from the people of letters. They have pulled me out of many whirlpools throughout my life. The words of Iqbal, Rumi, Khalil Jabran, Nietzsche, Dostoevsky, Paulo Coelho, and Richard Nixon have been great sources of uplift for me in my past drownings.  

Biographies are a great genre to follow in times of despair. There is something empowering in reading about great people who kept faith in themselves and ultimately converted their odd times into victories. The tales of Nelson Mandela and Genghiz Khan are among many stories that can stir a dead pond of hope. Some characters in biographies have strong confidence in their cause, others carry extreme determination. 

Why is my performance at the business is shrinking? Why has my social life been squeezed? Why is my glow at the golf course fading? Why can’t I hit straight anymore? Why are there more shanks than the better shots? What causes my ball to turn right before the hole? Is golf a frustrating game? Am I a poor sportsman? Is my mind rusting? Am I losing touch with life? 

I left these questions aside and took refuge in my book app. This time I preferred to get back to Paulo Coelho. Having a favorite writer is like having a lifelong friend who knows what you need and when you need it. I chose “The Archer” and strongly felt it was written only for me. Each word in the book was much-needed advice for me. It is a manual on a game that is played with a bow and arrow. This is a must-read for all complaining sportsmen. I found out my answers to all my questions in one sentence,

“It must leave at the moment when bow, archer, and target are at the same point in the universe: this is called inspiration.”

Without fervor, work is just a routine. Without flair, golf is just another boring game. It is inspiration and emotion that adds soul to otherwise ordinary action. It is the passion that attaches spark to a task and turns it into a mission. 

“ When you do things from the soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.” 

  • Rumi.

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The Archer by Paulo Coelho 

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Seven Over Par Three

Life is a see-saw, a blend of up and down, good and bad, success and failure, shot and shank. Just like day and night, summer and winter, spring and autumn time keeps clicking. We live on a rotating and revolving planet. Universe around us is ever expanding. We are balls of the game of life and death. One comes and another goes. Maybe that’s why life is a junction of  happiness and sorrow. We get startled every now and then. Sports and politics are two arenas where surprise is a great source of inspiration, entertainment anxiety and tears. Some tears flow in joy, others fall in sorrow and few drop in regret. 

People who fall in love or follow careers in sports, stardom and politics often are rewarded with tension and tears. The dimples on a golf ball represent a number of reasons to astound or demoralize you during this game. In one shot a player is on top of the game and in the next it hums his head. Golf’s shades and shocks, roughs and greens, shows and shames move like currents of a violent river. They break and make each other. The small little ball sits there idle. It awaits your swing. Whether it reaches at the desired drop zone or not does not depend merely on desire. Many factors come into play and luck is the vital one. Although Arnold Palmer claims, “The more I practice the luckier I get.”

The Masters Tournament 2020 is a great source of entertainment and lessons. We watched Jon Rahim’s hole in one.   Instead of drowning, his ball skimmed through the surface of the pond, glided on to the green and sunk in the hole. What a moment for him and for us.

Tiger Woods unprecedentedly played 7 over par 3 to the bewilderment of all fans and critics. It may be the most interesting moment of the masters 2020 but it certainly is the worst of his spell. The only double digit finish of a hole in his entire career. In order to reclaim his glory he displayed a grand command on the game by scoring five birdies out of the remaining six holes. Hole 12 was some hole at Augusta. It punctured his sanctity and it will stain him forever. Here is what he says happened out there.

Tigers interview after masters on worst par three

One thing that is positive about Tiger’s performance at that par 3 is that all sorts of golfers can relate to him in a special way. Especially average below average golfers like I am. If golf can do that to a god, no one is spared. Neither Rahim nor Woods can repeat those shots. At the spur of the moment the unexpected happens. The essence of it all is to carry on, despite despair, disappointment and detest. One who keeps hitting, good and bad, drops the ball in the hole and the quitter himself falls in the ditch of failure. Continuity is the key to success and consistency opens the rusted locks. 

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By

Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com

Illusions and Life

For those who see with the eye of the heart, the picture above represents an ancient god, a present one, a flag post, and golfing green. The strip of trees reminds viewers to maintain equilibrium between faith and reason. Fog in the snap illuminates the story of an illusionary human mind and the power of its imagination. Humans have been worshiping for generations, the same stars they intend to colonize today. At that time celestial objects quenched their spiritual thrust, today they have evolved to explore and exploit them at their will. What a tale of seasoning, maturity, and achievements. The journey of Homo Sapien’s progress is phenomenally unprecedented and extremely impressive. The human thought process, research, inquisitive nature, and courage to inquire has brought them from caves to skyscrapers, from hunting and gathering to boutique kitchens. Nothing in this universe has evolved as much as Earth and its masters. There are trillions of stars out there. Some shine brighter and others are huge in size. A few carry water and many more are barren. Neither one is prettier than Earth nor has more beautiful habitants than humans. If there is life out there it has yet not been able to reveal itself to us. Whereas our voyagers are roaming lights and lights years away. Nothing intelligent encounters them so far. The creature made of stardust flies to the distant stars to blow the dust there with the tires of its rovers. 

Coming back from extraterrestrial worlds I would like to offer another snapshot I took at the course today. A creeper is ascending on a naked tree. I would love to know this botanical relationship in detail. Is there a human hand in this romance of cuddles and kisses? Or it is a mutual understanding between the floras. 

I can hear their conversation while I walk in the vicinity. 

“I am dead but I will provide you with my shoulder. You can live on me while I am lifeless and merely firewood. Yet my dream of living forever is being fulfilled through your leaves and stem”, expresses the leafless trunk. 

“Thank you so very much. Please make sure that I continue to envelop you, till I am covering every inch of your body. I will protect you from the sun and storm, from rain and heat, from dust and fire. No one will cut you to make furniture out of you. You will be greener in my arms. My kisses will charge you to keep standing. Mutually we will add on to this beautiful garden and see people chasing and beating that little white ball. I wonder why these guys are after this ball? You might know since you were here long before I imbibed from my seed”, ponders the creeper. 

I follow my white ball wondering what it takes to make a golf course and a magical planet like Earth; where life grows amidst death. How much there is to see in this marvelous spell called life. How lucky we are to walk through these beautiful fairways and valleys, enjoying such picturesque allurements. I am so grateful for such a wonderful experience. 

Song of a tree

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Ahsan Jamil 

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

Email: Golfaij@gmail.com

Website: Golfaij.com