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.
1 G; t5 @' h& T
Heaven
- |- p7 @7 H! N6 D- D$ g The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
# Y5 R+ M& K+ J" y; W" Q A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
7 V9 u( K! p5 f5 P* ]* W0 B An accidental offspring of a boulder
7 v7 f) @: m4 f$ ~% C/ |  K$ q But just a very small stone.

, O7 J! M8 o9 m1 A7 j4 z The pebble's place in our world
- n: Q0 V3 k6 s3 Q/ x4 n# J Is neither understood nor appreciated
* _  s% h' D9 a6 P2 J But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
6 O* P/ c$ k" X5 O, f+ `# | Spiral outwards
$ S' j4 e! G3 ] Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
! @2 {" T* ~; x% o% U Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
$ R. A% c! L$ V$ Z
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.
# _# M& I  L+ U; k+ |3 \' _. B
Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
5 W- }. `! w' |6 V That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
) h1 X$ S& p/ w& } on a path into ourselves.
, B  |$ M; ~, E
+ k5 ~: z/ H& t- l1 |2 p: ~) r: u It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
" ?! {; _- t/ m& E3 I that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
But because of actions.

5 W6 Q; o9 e5 w. i+ ^6 T; J/ f Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
; `, S& L! M: r! W No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?

$ `. e; M: H6 W' n( K0 e6 a8 d And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
2 a  f. U3 r1 r  \8 @  |$ t3 i1 m With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …

3 D) M2 e1 Z$ [9 u1 y Ross Rosenberg
! l, \1 T( K2 ?, S2 {- O) |+ |% v. {" A 8/18/03