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.
) [4 J6 Q1 I3 T- x* H1 n% f
& K8 A5 v8 Z" v/ A Heaven
# s# ]/ K7 w5 b The pebble is worn smooth
( u! Q. @  e% O/ M Made small over time
  f; P3 K* f6 u; M, `4 Z A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
. I; F. [+ [, c, i# }5 d) W But just a very small stone.
# J: p+ b& g- m1 Z( w- \. U- G
& z4 y% M3 l  P( `0 r0 d The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
  K  q( i4 c+ k4 d Its insignificance is transformed
+ m- E; b/ o$ q Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

5 n2 N8 J/ q3 Q The instant the pebble kisses the pond
+ ^6 d5 r1 |0 S" A Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
- l, M3 H0 }4 q. {2 w; X7 w7 ? Moving far beyond itself.
6 c. Z/ A  q. z6 i7 x+ q Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
+ [/ E  T6 n) X- \) i8 Q8 F
5 v  F" Y7 _) U5 P  s The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
3 p) _+ Q) Y  c& p5 `* N: ]6 | Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
+ _5 Z- {; V4 d
Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
, \. ]' T" F# i9 } But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
3 N2 f% t0 j. |9 W# D% k on a path into ourselves.

It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
5 I1 }# K$ }) t4 T Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
- `" U. b! [7 v, Y" H" k Not because of thoughts
* C7 F& K+ ~: B, {' ~' m6 t not because of well meaning plans
0 \) O5 B9 S" M% B- s9 c But because of actions.

Our life's prayers our answered
1 \8 h1 a3 y. Q8 x4 f Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
1 w( B2 b; g. t' [* G6 o8 ? Of those we touch.?
1 C2 G$ h) H% x) X: a
And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
  I2 c* _) \) B1 u5 X With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …
) x5 F" u' {" y( u
Ross Rosenberg
3 i9 w' b5 j. { 8/18/03