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.

% i- v% t% R. b  W4 ^! J Heaven
" K8 u2 z' }$ c7 ?! P9 @+ \ The pebble is worn smooth
' C' T! u, q/ K) {  ?6 k" D% v Made small over time
/ j9 H( W( B) h( K, M3 l6 L1 E+ Q A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
. b) d4 I- r/ @) x9 j But just a very small stone.
3 F0 i8 X- Q- G5 \9 _* g2 v  s# d7 U
The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
3 `2 B8 P/ h% B! j0 g0 p4 |, @/ Q Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
6 D9 I, k' t* b) P
The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
# B9 G+ Q4 F6 ^0 ^ Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
1 y" J$ b7 l" Z, L7 N) o1 w Gently affecting everything in its wake
' d1 u& g2 \7 C; h* A Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
( G- u( D5 n) l( a! n
The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power?
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
& o9 v1 T$ ]2 V4 q, `9 H+ ? Producing lasting and fluid impressions.

* m) M9 h/ l) X! T" M Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
0 j8 d# W  W9 ^( Y4 O# @1 x That who we are meant to be
6 Y9 T; C5 D% L& a' W7 R+ ?* Y Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.

, o% l! Q. Q, K) d9 _6 g. S# a It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
( t" p9 S; s, u# B1 P' ? Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
/ x. O; ~# q7 u: m' C: f2 u7 ` that leave unique mark on our world
3 [2 n9 {* P# t. E  X5 x$ b( d Not because of thoughts
3 ]: w# T# j1 F3 i9 I- V. F1 Q not because of well meaning plans
1 x# s9 C7 w0 i% v  U But because of actions.
9 M; B! U6 a* c, _0 G
) f: B. R7 [! \5 x+ ~& F Our life's prayers our answered
1 d" Y1 `" d% O Because even the smallest pebble
# x- p; S3 `' @+ N2 Y% l! |9 O) ^0 M No matter how seemingly insignificant
( j* O$ e, }0 X4 F. ]. a Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.?
  a. n. S/ g! `1 a$ U7 O  U) w1 K
And when the icy winds of death
0 Q) X4 m! q( s9 c: H3 ] beckon our lasting attention
, h* K2 g" W! K8 {+ F. m# V) Z0 z We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
+ F0 n; p- u4 e6 e because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.

And then we have heaven …

Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03