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.

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.
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8 s# u7 l  S% {9 I Heaven
. b- V4 p$ f6 s9 H4 |& m The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
6 B4 P8 x, G/ ]) R A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
  D7 w& d6 G" l  X1 {! z A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
But just a very small stone.

) q4 W  x8 M5 \. F" d& P The pebble's place in our world
( V% j6 n9 m+ \ Is neither understood nor appreciated
) W) A. U+ S0 K& F But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
9 i; H7 u, j- _" m2 J Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
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. W" o0 T3 r9 k8 V4 s( I The instant the pebble kisses the pond
6 p9 B/ M  d3 @1 }' i% l( k Its signature of concentric ripples
, e# ~$ r* {" ~* W5 S' I0 ^, W Spiral outwards
: a4 B& N' m! m- D" a" B6 G, V Moving far beyond itself.
$ Y9 s3 \( v7 n. [- F9 j( z Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

) }! s- F' u# C% [ The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
" i! T2 [% i7 E" L% w; r. ^, i Creating karmic energy
+ D0 c5 T& M/ E3 a) A Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
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Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
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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: d) H( n( H* E* | It is true then:
. c% o( ]( a2 _3 s% Y% V Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
$ q# K: N4 a2 B6 ]! i Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
5 v5 m: X6 S7 C* A% ^3 u# H) K Not because of thoughts
: U* ?3 j. Y9 T3 ]3 f not because of well meaning plans
But because of actions.

: N. X" Y5 Z! I! |; Q$ k. K Our life's prayers our answered
1 \; n, D. u; e" S- @! K. o Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
) m( u: ?9 ^: o0 u Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?
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+ A0 V* P) H. n1 X$ P7 w7 X And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
; I5 b3 b$ E$ u5 k" C because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.
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; T# M/ `. g3 o5 k: H1 z0 L. d9 { And then we have heaven …
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5 S. {( E5 D+ h+ e0 l$ m Ross Rosenberg
& |+ M! Y$ ^/ K5 f: u1 D0 U 8/18/03