I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

And this is the slowdown.

Long ago, I knew I needed a new conception of heaven. The one with pearly white gates and winged angels

for my youth in church just wasn't working for me. I mean I get clouds and blue skies as symbols of

ascension from earthly plains and it wasn't just in church. Heaven was everywhere, in museums and in movies too. But those early

images lodged into my subconscious weren't inclusive or realistic except for the 1936

Hollywood classic green pastures. I'd like the idea of heaven, that is Paradise Imagine. It is low-key political.

And I think we should conceptualize our notions of heaven, one that is secular and functional.

As Belinda Carlisle sang in the 80s, heaven is a place on earth.

Constructing one's celestial city,

one's promised land, is empowering.

It's a radical act that forces us to imagine our freedom.

It's the place where our longings and sense of justice coalesce into a vision that we can work toward, that is here, right now.

For example, if your vision of heaven doesn't include environmental waste, then we can fight today against

companies polluting rivers and waterways.

Or if your image of heaven is a planet where hate has no home and love permeates all of our interactions,

then we can advocate for human connections.

Over dinner recently, I inquired of friends what their yonder looks like.

One said,

it is a place where I know all the answers to the questions that have plagued me.

Another said, all of my dogs are there.

Today's poem critiques the damaging effect of canonical images of heaven

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