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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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
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
But just a very small stone.
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: Z7 _- U  w) r8 i/ `$ I2 w The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
! H" E  T( u$ Q3 G8 V But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
2 Z6 \% p! P) Q+ I9 y8 K Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
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The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
4 q  M8 L4 }; d0 X5 c2 V& J Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
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/ h) ^' T& h; h4 v The pebble creates its worth and meaning
4 @7 V% [. T$ u  I' W; { By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
; e7 ~2 V- q* d$ F9 {4 x Creating karmic energy
3 j. K+ d6 p8 c& K3 v7 K  o Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
. h: B9 O9 H' s" b- T5 y# Y4 \ But ultimately recognizing
! W8 e8 G# P! d9 @ That who we are meant to be
- U+ W% p; [$ M Can never be measured in isolation
7 G0 T+ m) Z# V5 ~" ? on a path into ourselves.
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It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
  g$ d3 K6 Z7 ~$ C. | Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
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Not because of thoughts
( f1 ]5 w8 N$ ^2 W- j* C, L6 c" R# ^ not because of well meaning plans
; R5 w8 v( {. x( O But because of actions.
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Our life's prayers our answered
# K* P$ c1 p( }$ K. y Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
+ x/ R$ W* _& z3 l$ W8 m9 h Of those we touch.?
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And when the icy winds of death
1 I# f! b0 e3 ]" s beckon our lasting attention
: j% Z# m" F) ^! s We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
4 z4 H4 d/ |$ c  ]! E) n The world will never be the same.
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" G) O; W$ K+ P- r8 j. ~1 ^ And then we have heaven …
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# g5 P3 E! ^$ b9 ~, c2 R( x Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03