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.

: u2 s! W  h, C6 f% X7 \! {2 x Heaven
1 [' S9 K. r* T; I The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
2 u: U! T. f( o2 i9 w0 k, N8 j A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
9 O; i4 D, Z, d, a An accidental offspring of a boulder
3 g7 [6 h6 X0 E7 \- { But just a very small stone.
& O3 W; S6 U* r0 X' c7 P
The pebble's place in our world
( Y# H1 b3 v1 c1 Y# @ Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
6 b) M' r, f) W) W0 o$ C: Y Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.

The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
/ j. v' C1 f/ ]' r; |1 h Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
) ~* d/ I% s% z# a Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.

The pebble creates its worth and meaning
' m# ^7 H+ K1 o By unleashing its unimagined power?
& ?8 ?  N( ?: t2 c3 s/ F Into a dueling force of action and reaction
- a0 h4 q7 Z5 ?) E1 V Creating karmic energy
' N0 @" o6 P8 H/ \$ z Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

Aren't we all pebbles?
$ a. l, j. g0 P6 J. g4 X# P  h9 z Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
7 _& A7 o  g9 b, \# T That who we are meant to be
/ |$ P5 @! b6 h9 s Can never be measured in isolation
( }- U/ j1 p# u5 ~# d& a on a path into ourselves.
" S' n, D2 D( i+ R
It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
( z# Y. }* y; r; r: H8 Y& [ that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
  A! K3 H; ~$ a8 ? not because of well meaning plans
But because of actions.
+ m, P  S' Q+ N6 \0 m& ~9 C% b
Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
: Q: ?3 e6 W) ?" s3 K! V8 q+ R% D  m No matter how seemingly insignificant
- D* S, q" D2 J( \ Changes the course of the lives
4 ?1 V) w' U  K. J; ], G Of those we touch.?

And when the icy winds of death
0 u5 S; F: b! P+ ~) t' F( ^3 d beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
; H- {9 G' V3 P- G% r  e5 J% E With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
! `: U. Q$ d9 L' K& L, T1 e: u The world will never be the same.
* z$ `9 u& \2 K8 V. c, `) O
And then we have heaven …

Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03