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.

+ m7 V5 m/ ~# f1 ?7 |5 p 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.
8 K# S9 u! t, m( f- `$ B; B: b
Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
2 h" _3 \) v  S: d! B( b An accidental offspring of a boulder
( r: k5 O& i$ m) Z$ f5 g& M But just a very small stone.

The pebble's place in our world
( ~% D; F  m& d4 |$ P Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
8 O& t2 [' r/ l2 V+ s- D Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
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The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
! ?5 l1 s7 Z) \$ |- V7 x; [. M Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
) J3 x1 I3 t/ F; a: z7 _% j" H# D
5 a0 i; H* K% w  \) D- d The pebble creates its worth and meaning
7 s# l; X# B5 ?" ` By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
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Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
7 r2 k3 u- W6 q* v7 O# n1 ^ But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
1 X9 {# a# c. i8 @' p$ P* \( h on a path into ourselves.
: Y" j: `) f  d- n
It is true then:
* T: E  }( b; }0 a# l4 s) i Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
1 n" B3 N" T2 n5 |& J  h! a Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
2 A* x- J+ K. p& w* h' C' a: }2 C that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
9 H. }/ o0 H' n0 M But because of actions.

Our life's prayers our answered
8 w. h6 j( |% N; Z% s$ f" Z Because even the smallest pebble
% Y+ @2 s# v5 d No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?

And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
; |1 ~8 C9 z$ k6 G" {1 W) z0 B We will gently leave this life
3 d6 o3 p( ~7 Y/ s( J# ~' m With the knowledge that
! H3 T. \, O# h+ b+ W( w5 t because of that one pebble
) x& p% B$ C$ f' i9 | The world will never be the same.

! T# O1 g5 ~  ^$ u And then we have heaven …

% @+ J! d$ P1 q+ g Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03