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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; u, q# J7 F. Y# s' E; g 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
9 G) S3 r+ m0 A4 z) B- `2 v Made small over time
, L9 c, I! d4 I3 H6 C$ u5 \ A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
! T, @/ a) v1 ]3 T! q( x% {! p9 p/ Y A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
8 C3 ]. o- y. p" |" `/ r; D( ? But just a very small stone.

* E2 q3 N6 m6 c& b7 c+ G8 ^- m The pebble's place in our world
- H" k, u3 h3 s# a/ s; ] Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
& y: Z" ~! c' X' |  g Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
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/ n  K# q( w$ r  p The instant the pebble kisses the pond
: o4 s5 w' l& N$ I/ c% _& E' U Its signature of concentric ripples
5 g& D8 J1 }4 Z2 P4 } Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
6 N4 M1 f- T- D4 v6 j Gently affecting everything in its wake
+ X1 @& D- A" P6 _5 B, o' x/ i8 k Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

, @! L7 @9 ]+ ?6 Q0 g( D' V: t The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
. ?! r6 H, v3 i9 }, s" l But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.
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It is true then:
& m7 }) ]1 i/ b1 _( w/ R- c  I Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
6 B; i6 O" r% Y$ j0 E. X, E Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
2 r& ^# z! ?+ A& o3 F: ` But because of actions.

5 @9 c7 }3 o& U' n7 P' B Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
" Z1 {# Y7 j# j' j5 X; t1 T! a' u No matter how seemingly insignificant
4 E% V" x2 [8 J+ p Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?
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And when the icy winds of death
# g$ l" E7 {' }% | beckon our lasting attention
. Q) v5 H; W0 ~# m8 G5 L2 `9 ^ We will gently leave this life
' k5 C5 n. n+ C" f) D5 i8 M" [ With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …
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( o! ~. i) ]1 H  ` Ross Rosenberg
6 k. }& h  e- b; b( |9 L; `3 X 8/18/03