About the Rubicon
One of my favorite writers is Tom Holland, a Brit with books like Rubicon on his resume. I’m reading it right now, the wonderfully told story of Rome and Julius Caesar’s fateful decision to march into Italy, one of the most significant moments in ancient history.
I don’t want to review his work. I’ll just say he’s an amazing writer and he’ll take you down a rabbit hole of eloquence and greatness.
I actually want to touch on crossing the Rubicon. The expression, that is. It means the point of no return, you know, it’s a frigging saying. It means going all in, no turning back, you get the point.
How many Rubicon moments do we have in our own lives? As many as we want, I suppose. I’m not a determinist, so I figure we can shape our fates whenever the feeling strikes. That said, the feeling rarely strikes. Mostly we’re not thinking of fate—we’re thinking of what’s for dinner or what’s on TV tonight. I don’t necessarily agree with Caesar’s decision; it basically started the collapse of the greatest republic in human history, but I do admire his indefatigable spirit. Can you imagine the balls? The guy might be the most famous person in history. Reason? Because balls.
I don’t mean to be crass, but that kind of charging into the breech spirit is far too rare in this world. Conquering fears and simply acting is the only way to get things done sometimes, at least things that matter. Implacability isn’t always a virtue, but it’s a requirement if you want to be remembered.
Just don’t go destroying republics. Start small and the like.
Later animals. See you after.