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I told a friend in explaining how I felt about being upset with someone else, “I wanted to go all Rubicon on their asses.” My friend didn’t get the reference. In fact, a lot of people that I asked if they understood the comment, didn’t get the reference. I think it’s a good saying, so, I’ll share the reference for those who don’t know either. The Rubicon was the river that Jules Cesar crossed, then burned behind him, so his legions had no choice but to fight, for they could not go home. Fight, or die. The term ‘burn your bridges behind you’ comes from this. People also used to say, “I have crossed the Rubicon,” meaning they have made their decision and there is no going back. To me going all Rubicon on their asses means I want to burn my bridges, their houses, and take an axe to the people that are pissing me off. But the few times in my life when I’ve allowed myself to vent my anger to that degree, I’ve regretted it eventually. I know that, so I try not to do it.
Mary and Sherry were talking downstairs about the fact that someone has published Mother Theresa’s memoirs, or diaries. She requested that her papers be destroyed at her death. Whoever did not obey her wishes, shame on them. But part of the controversy is that the writings show that Mother Theresa wasn’t always a saint. That she got angry, and had to work through issues on paper so she could be compassionate in real life to the people who were pissing her off. The people that published the papers against her wishes, thought it would help others to see that even she, such a good person, struggled with internal issues. Maybe. They still should have burned the papers. They were her papers and it was her wish. But, hey, no one asked me.
But it brings up an issue for me. You know how I’ve said before that bravery isn’t done by people who are never afraid. True bravery is doing something even though you are terrified. That’s brave. Well, love is like that, too. Love, compassion, whatever word you choose. I guess I’ll go with compassion because in America we’re very hung up on the idea that love is mostly romantic, and that is not the kind of love I’m talking about. I’m talking about acting with true compassion towards someone when what you really want to do is get a baseball bat and start hitting them until they agree to do what you want them to do. But you don’t pick up a weapon, you show them compassion. You try and be generous of spirit when what you want to do is scream and spit and twirl with rage. True compassion is not an act of someone who knows no anger. True compassion is only possible if you fucking hate someone, but you treat them with compassion, then, and only then, are you compassionate.
Compassion, like bravery, is one of the hardest things in the world to do. To act as if you are not righteously pissed. To act as if you are brave when you are so scared you can taste metal on your tongue. To act as if, when the inside of your head is anything but, that is what is separates the grown-ups from the children. (I would have said men from boys, but it sounded too sexist. Though it does have a better ring to it.)