Today is March 15, the Ides of March. This day is best known, as Wikipedia tells us, as the one on which Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 BC. Caesar was stabbed to death at a meeting of the senate, with as many as 60 conspirators -- led by Brutus and Cassius -- involved in the plot. Apparently a seer had warned Caesar that harm would come to him no later than the Ides of March. Caesar, a bit full of himself by the sound of things, passed the seer on the way to the Theatre of Pompey (where the deed would take place) and joked "The Ides of March have come," implying that the prophecy had not been fulfilled. "Aye, Caesar," the seer replied, "but not gone."
It's never really a good idea to tempt fate. As Caesar found out the hard way, we just don't know how things are going to turn out. A few years back (egads, ELEVEN years back, time is certainly flying) I was getting "vibes" that something was going to happen to me before Christmas. Something as in death. I kept mentioning to people that I had this strange sense I wasn't going to make it to celebrate the holidays, and naturally, since most of my friends and family believe I lean to eccentricity, my concerns were dismissed. Then, on December 21, 2002, I fell and broke my ankle on my sister's slippery driveway. I was rushed to the hospital and informed by a very nice doctor that my ankle was broken in three places and I should have surgery. I had reached my fated crossroads, I could feel it, and knew for a fact that if I went into surgery I would not return alive. Instead, I elected to go the hard way...a closed reduction, which essentially means the doctor yanks and pulls and realigns the bones. Doc further informed me that by making this choice I would probably limp for the rest of my life. I kept to myself that I'd rather limp on earth than skip in heaven.
In February of the next year, while still hobbling around in a hip-high cast, I was on the telephone with my own version of Caesar's seer, a friend who dabbled in astrology. She didn't know when I broke my ankle, but when she looked at my chart she said "Oh my, you were surrounded by death on December 21st."
Unlike that poor chap who listened not to his soothsayer so long ago, I paid attention to fate's subtle nudging. And no, I do not limp today.
Whether or not you believe in events of fate, it's wise at least to give them a nod. Had Caesar done same and rescheduled his senate to March 16, the world might be a very different place. I pay quiet homage to The Ides of March every year having had my own internal seer portend trouble. The Ides should remind us all: heads up little Caesars...you know not what the future will bring.