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 t) H) |6 X+ ^; v' j Heaven
/ v. X: ~7 T! |/ f; h2 ] The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
- a- t8 L$ `# q# x8 i! k9 R A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
( R. B$ w2 O+ s0 s& D" j7 F An accidental offspring of a boulder
) S9 H* f  P; D& G, { But just a very small stone.

The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
/ C$ H3 H% v& L Its insignificance is transformed
" D/ D3 A4 _! E9 X4 x( [ Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

+ b$ B! O/ V2 \9 O* V, j7 {1 l$ l The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
; r+ U2 j- n/ L% j% N Spiral outwards
5 I* {' \: @& K Moving far beyond itself.
( b( N3 Z1 }& X- x+ [1 [, u( h  f7 H Gently affecting everything in its wake
  Q' F+ ^, d& v+ O% n7 Q Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
0 j2 N  i8 z6 q: ~
1 N$ @* C" W* ]* Q7 [! r3 _ The pebble creates its worth and meaning
* n! ]' e7 h* X0 y# D By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
; T: I, n3 \, n Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
# m3 y4 n( C( ?, a
4 V2 }2 c( d0 Q Aren't we all pebbles?
! ^' E6 c" V+ D$ W Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
; j% r4 s% q4 D- Z* E2 } Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.

It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
4 Y$ J/ O, P3 C# l0 O1 U' ] Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
3 L9 _( O4 |. v! \; W$ v that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
But because of actions.
1 P) \' [) F% O2 Q+ Y1 |: D
Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
9 l5 t/ k! L( Q! b No matter how seemingly insignificant
6 j% Z# R3 b# I' p- v8 P6 Y  Z( t Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?

" G! F' u0 V/ w% v$ x  u4 M4 @: U4 Z And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
% K9 K* V: H+ p2 d* K, Y because of that one pebble
( Q* p& a) z; f) t" v8 ~5 F+ D: @5 c The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …

) u' c* _" W4 K5 x Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03