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.
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Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
. ^, J" l; g' w% N Made small over time
( g. U9 O% H- {5 X7 s& X1 n9 l A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
; v: q( ^% c; Q, d A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
( n$ C/ G2 V- O2 K7 D3 U An accidental offspring of a boulder
( w" T4 A% N1 U( d1 i: e4 S( g+ | But just a very small stone.
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- K9 G( P* h8 w The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
2 F/ ]/ w) b; W& { 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
, F! ]; u4 u" F' f# J2 i. Q) } Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
) ^6 G) g( `1 k2 p  L Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
- X6 Z% {! q5 g/ C( s! y. V9 Y Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

7 S6 ]4 x/ |  u! j: O The pebble creates its worth and meaning
: D  `& [5 V, L% J3 U- s4 ~ By unleashing its unimagined power?
2 I1 b% P2 C" D( q Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
# `( B$ H) p3 T" j' f( ^ But ultimately recognizing
) e  q$ @6 ^6 R' p4 z" w% | That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.
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It is true then:
  z: q5 t5 S' u5 h4 o4 F  h Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
$ d2 C& @, b) O' F+ }& ?  O Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
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/ V/ w  F* h2 X Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
8 Z/ k1 Q0 u( \; j( L2 w! _7 h2 _" E+ d But because of actions.
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/ l; j3 |# V+ y9 [ Our life's prayers our answered
! k! }7 g$ X# `* g- c4 x Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
: J. N* S+ e3 ~* t Of those we touch.?

/ Y. c& R+ k1 u& ~" j* ? And when the icy winds of death
6 h4 M, d- s: D, J2 D$ o beckon our lasting attention
! L( e2 O8 I8 Q We will gently leave this life
3 r7 l8 a+ Z/ q With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
+ @( t: v( `6 k) E4 d9 @5 F% q The world will never be the same.
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$ }; @# l  P' E) Q$ ~7 i( o" q, A And then we have heaven …

Ross Rosenberg
  p& o. r; A$ ~6 d9 n' z5 k 8/18/03