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.

  b$ Q  ]/ ]7 [% A 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.

The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
7 |' M5 N' H, v. z. w: J2 a! g
The instant the pebble kisses the pond
. |1 P2 }* N$ Y- s  ^1 D Its signature of concentric ripples
0 B, a7 s; ^3 W- `$ L6 m( Q! q Spiral outwards
* b, ^# k: c  P4 S4 _. C9 q. H3 ~ Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
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The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
! S- G4 Y3 x# g7 F8 i6 z0 z Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
" y& g: v  s. M( l8 L& i5 H
4 h+ r$ Y1 `! O, ? Aren't we all pebbles?
7 y% S0 n7 g. Z. A3 P3 r Feeling small and insignificant
- Q. h4 V. [. z$ ^2 f, ~4 I But ultimately recognizing
) p6 L# @4 A$ o$ k) J6 e That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
1 V5 R# E6 i! u1 X% B, x7 u7 H on a path into ourselves.

It is true then:
7 {( P+ q9 t2 L# i; c6 A0 q Our everlasting future
! Y& L; K6 l1 d' v* [# i Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
; y" Z- U) S' u: Y% T Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
& U: O: m" N" X  l+ p" ~ that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
. X4 [+ B9 x4 w, y( v1 ^ not because of well meaning plans
, _) Z* l  u7 X8 g' M- X1 { But because of actions.

Our life's prayers our answered
. m8 F/ m. S7 D/ z Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
3 N+ s- Z$ J5 x* @0 a% R. U Of those we touch.?

5 E' i6 r1 h3 ~' h3 f; v And when the icy winds of death
9 f( M0 ^: I: H7 N: K beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
1 \6 m, y$ ]3 _, | The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …
6 x) z* u! e9 C, p7 i4 j- J2 ], P$ x
Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03