“Trees are poems that earth writes on the sky.”
Khalil Gibran
When I saw a large beehive hanging from a tree at the ninth tee box at Gujranwala Golf Club, I felt a chill in my stance that the backswing might disturb bees in their home. My ears shivered to the slight buzz in the air, the wind whistling itself into me. And you know what bees do when they are angry, and just like them, irritation irked me, I wanted to sting the ball away. The other day, at Lahore Garrison GCC, I came across a dove nest where chicks were chirping, probably annoyed by my presence so close. How those small flaps of yellow express their anger, it seems cute, just how can anyone not feel pity for them. Often, I have seen earthworms crawling on putting greens. Golf course is home to a variety of dwellers. I wonder what is a home, a nest, a hive or a hole. The golf course is not just my comfort, but a biome to many species. I must be able to find a way to play in a manner that finds harmony for me and the others.
Our universe houses the earth, and our blue planet is home to life. Birds fly on the orb, coated by the busy breeze, and nest on trees, protecting their own. Not all life on this blue marble wears wings. Nor does the whole world live in nests. Humans make homes, and reptiles dig holes, even if different in shape, we are similar in nature. Humans seek shelter and security among the walls of their homes, much like the flora and fauna at the golf club. They too seek safety from our golf shots.. Under the grassy patches, reptiles walk free. Under the roofs of the skies all life finds its food and fun. The earth is home, a mother, and a heaven. Neither all planets carry qualification to cradle life, nor life survives without the homelike atmosphere. On earth, life dwells in multiple forms and styles. Some in New York City live in skyscrapers that try to reach the skies. Others live in caves, and a few reside in cages. A countless species swims underwater. Some of us are already living in space stations beyond the gravity of the earth. Robots are working day and night trying to suggest human homes on Mars and beyond. Just like we, humans, have our preferences and others whose consequences led to different accommodation, animals find a place to live that suits them too. Home is where you are, and some species choose humans as their homes too, while humans hunt some of them.
Some live in homes made of wood and others sojourn on trees. Birds are a special form of life. They can fly wherever they wish as the whole world is their home. They make their nests mostly for breeding and roosting. A few make them to outlast the whiplashes of winter. Most birds build new homes each season, some refurbish old nests. Once a chick learns to fly it is home free. Flying between the earth and sky, they like to ride in the air. Birds don’t store their food like humans and ants. They believe in the provider. And the providers obliges them. Perhaps, we, too, should have the same mentality. Albeit, not as easy, but we have the opportunity to fly anywhere too, so many we should trust the route of life and fly with the flow.
There are many kinds of homes. Viruses claim human bodies to be their castles, and humans call planet earth their fort. It could be that some humans are a virus to earth too. Some love to live in someone else’s house as cockroaches and pests do. Who knows whose home it is. Theirs or ours. ‘Might is right’! decides the ownership. Not everybody needs a nest. We’ve had nomads that appreciate the world, roaming, perhaps there is more to moving around and getting out of our comfort zones. A wanderer claims the entire city as his playground while a rover needs no home. There is an invisible and harmless inhabitant that nests silently in my body. I call it a soul. I breathe, but it inhales. I swallow, and it tastes. I see, and it grasps. I listen, and it comprehends. I laugh, and it flourishes. I am its nest. It’s home. But perhaps, more than ever more, this body is my essence and vessel onto the next. An abode for the ever after.
“My soul is from elsewhere, I am sure of that, and I intend to end up there”
Rumi
There is no proof that a soul is an ingredient of life. Is life itself a soul? Is the soul an integral part of life? I really don’t know. Neither science has any evidence of such an affair. Soul or no soul, the living certainly needs a host, a home, or a carrier. And a home without a soul is merely a shelter. No matter how luxurious a place looks, it’s haunted without hospitality.
Not all life looks for shelter, trees provide it, they stand tall for years just to sustain us with oxygen. They never ask us for more, but they are like phoenixes who need to be replanted by us humans. After all, we must sustain ourselves too and not take our precious trees for granted.
One thing is sure, that home or no home nothing lives forever. Life is temporary and so is home. But perhaps, what we can do is, prolong this beautiful breath, not just for us, but all around us.
Credits
Gujranwala Golf Club
Lahore Garrison Golf & Country Club.
Eyaz Riaz (images)
Sarim Khan (Edit & Narration)
By
Ahsan Jamil
Golfer, Blogger, Entrepreneur, Author, Poet, Wanderer, photographer, Rebel.
Email: Golfaij@gmail.com
Website: Golfaij.com
YouTube: Morning with Golf