Heaven

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Seven years ago I was asked by a friend if I was "religious and if I believed in God?" As a (formerly) practicing agnostic I quickly answered:"no." However, I defended myself by explaining that I lived my life according to universal principals of "right and wrong" (as I understood them). Because I believed that our deeds create a lasting effect on the world, I felt confident in my everlasting future. In other words, I wasn't worried about there being a heaven or not. I told my friend that when I die, I am banking on knowing that my impact on the world will be ever lasting. My "heaven" will ultimately be the creation of the the sum total of all my actions.
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. b0 O* C* i* J9 V2 l/ J7 \. R& y# { I will never forget my friend's response: he looked at me with glassy eyes, and told me how deeply spiritual I was. I didn't see it. It took five more years to see what he meant. Such was the inspiration of the following poem I wrote.

Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
% m- w) o% B# U7 K7 T A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
! G" \6 _; I* U( l9 k1 Z4 }/ } A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
+ C! {+ H4 y) r' A7 m+ V- H An accidental offspring of a boulder
1 U9 Q0 H7 H7 J. b9 a/ t+ N6 c But just a very small stone.
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3 q, N% L! i. c3 j( j! G. ~" v# v The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
, E& N# s4 z( z3 N Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
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The instant the pebble kisses the pond
% M2 D6 s* G- J% ~ Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
2 f! {. I2 Y% x! W Gently affecting everything in its wake
" F% u# J4 q9 j' d, o- N% w/ G Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

. c2 p3 @( m" T6 b The pebble creates its worth and meaning
/ B6 d! J7 W" S By unleashing its unimagined power?
) Q, L1 j$ k* D" M6 |6 n7 W- q Into a dueling force of action and reaction
7 B5 x% W, D# r! B2 W+ s Creating karmic energy
3 |& b0 Q1 [- z, H Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
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Aren't we all pebbles?
4 }' U4 t! r% m, F, k2 b  k+ o Feeling small and insignificant
* i$ z; M2 |2 o; A: Y& R But ultimately recognizing
. w, {! W* _$ W# b' B That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
, L; N1 Z2 t$ x& p: H5 J6 q on a path into ourselves.
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% s8 c6 ^. E( C* r It is true then:
Our everlasting future
8 D& y: I& O  z  d8 W Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
5 B4 i. I+ o. G Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
. K' T) E: c# V* j. o# @8 b But because of actions.
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Our life's prayers our answered
/ [3 o: v0 D2 z& A( R" h Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
0 ?2 B4 B. W1 }/ A, b Of those we touch.?
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  U" {! |. e! K/ j3 y  a% E- d9 R And when the icy winds of death
) M; D( y6 W  {, D) I beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
  [' E. `% `( _& ?8 ^ because of that one pebble
$ x9 q) P* y& f$ e1 n0 j The world will never be the same.
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And then we have heaven …
! P* A' _% w+ X% f" r$ f3 `3 a
Ross Rosenberg
0 j" ~) Y$ E5 c4 {' u& u( d 8/18/03