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.

4 f2 q( f- M, H' v" m: c5 Z' C 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.
- W; w3 U: M* j6 P" O4 o
The instant the pebble kisses the pond
& s0 u  a' N4 @! o, [; ?1 r Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
( [# Z' q5 ]. U: m Gently affecting everything in its wake
  ^7 y: R. ^2 o" A9 ` Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
0 A) r6 \# ^0 V* w: W3 ^1 Z3 V
$ Y) r9 X4 C) L2 a/ w% t8 h  K( ] The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
  Q* [1 G. f6 B7 W7 N- R( ^ Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

Aren't we all pebbles?
8 U) _/ D: \+ I% Y! [+ P, @ Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
3 T7 s5 B  I6 i* q) {  @* K& z7 {& J That who we are meant to be
; g8 Z: J' s; w  H Can never be measured in isolation
1 D9 M1 Y" w7 V on a path into ourselves.
: v( Q$ B+ v: r& J, [
( f" x, T0 `  q6 n9 [6 ?; Z It is true then:
# \5 m" N2 e9 d" Y1 Q% s( ^ Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
% H1 e( G8 d, c2 V0 ^$ L# K Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
7 P; i  H# f8 Z( O: v: |. |% p# I that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
+ N% T6 I( H6 H7 }. i But because of actions.
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Our life's prayers our answered
. @( _( O  Y7 c Because even the smallest pebble
9 c) D7 t7 `' I8 { No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
# j6 ~5 i* H. d3 c4 f6 H Of those we touch.?

And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
" @( X. [2 B6 ?( M We will gently leave this life
" @3 i+ X& u2 u7 {  e5 b+ b With the knowledge that
2 n. S6 n( G! r+ E8 M0 @ because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

5 ?& [  \6 u% R5 a2 E1 n And then we have heaven …

8 N- z2 }1 z; }) r* B4 C  t Ross Rosenberg
- ^  z8 Z2 M. @5 s5 r& p8 s 8/18/03