Sometimes you might not know whether you’re like Caesar, about to cross the Rubicon, or like Captain Queeg, cutting his own tow line. We’ve all heard the phrase “crossing the Rubicon,” but what does it really mean, and why am I thinking about it now?
It’s a metaphor for taking a step you can’t undo—committing yourself to a path. We’ve all done that, sometimes with wonderful results and other times not so much. Lately, I’ve been thinking about that line because, after my last birthday, I realized I’m now closer to the end of my life than the beginning. At this stage, the Rubicon seems to glow more brightly—you can’t ignore how permanent crossing it really is.
The year I was born, the average life expectancy for men was 64.7 years. I’m glad to say I’ve already outlived that, and at my current age, the projected average is 76.1 years—a milestone I’ve also quietly passed. That knowledge sounds like a clear alarm in my ears, but it’s not a bad thing; it reminds me I’ve crossed my own Rubicon with gratitude and calm curiosity about what still lies on the far shore.
