Zig Zag #13

I can spot an old soul from a mile away.

Why?

Because it takes one to know one.

So what does it mean to be an old soul?

To me, it means possessing a bit of wisdom that you can’t quite explain how it came to you. It can be a bit of a mystery. You feel a bit out of place at times, especially with your peers. But you know the instant you’ve found another old soul. You are kindred spirits, for sure. You feel deeply connected to everything. You feel big feels and sometimes you don’t know what to do with them. But you also have enough grace and wisdom to know when you need to recharge.

When I was in college, there was one day every fall semester where you could buy all the tickets to any concert or performing arts show at a discounted rate that would pass through town for the entire year. There were, of course, shows that my friends would want to go see with me. But there were always a few that I knew I was going to check out solo. It was usually the jazz and blues concerts that I couldn’t get enough of. I felt drawn to both. I could feel it all. The excitement and the organized chaos of jazz composition. The sadness and soulful renderings of a blues song. Both gave me chills and made me feel things I couldn’t explain. It was almost like I could feel the ghosts of music's past. For both, I was always the youngest person in the audience by at least 20 years.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to love and accept my old soul-ish nature. Even when others might not understand. Especially then.

So when I do meet another kindred old soul, I have an abundance of compassion for how they show up in the world. I get it.

That’s how I knew when I picked up my Lyft passenger Shawn from his apartment on the outskirts of the University of Texas campus that he was in the old soul club.

He was my first ride of the night on a random Tuesday. He was a senior music composition major. I was taking Shawn to the symphony at the major performing arts center in downtown Austin. He was going by himself.

“So just to be clear, you are going to the symphony by yourself on a Tuesday night?”

“Yup, no one wanted to go with me.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. He was clearly embarrassed by this fact.

For a moment, my heart broke a little. I thought to myself if I wasn’t old enough to be his really cool older big sister, and it didn’t make me feel like a cougar, I would have run home, changed, and gone with him.

To pivot from his embarrassment, I engaged him in a conversation about this amazing history of music class I took in college. That was all it took. His face lit up like a Christmas tree, and we had one of the most amazing conversations about music I’ve ever had. That sustained us until I pulled up to the performing arts center.

Before he was about to exit my car, I put my hand on his arm.

“Hey, I just want to say someday there is going to be someone who will be so grateful and appreciative that you want to take them to the symphony. Have faith that it will happen.”

He smiled a shy smile and shook his head in agreement.

And that is what being an old soul has taught me. You have to let go of preconceived notions of the people who you think are supposed to pass through your life. Because if you are so narrowly focused you might miss out on an amazing conversation that will stick with you years later between you and a kindred spirit. When a connection happens, age and circumstance don’t matter. Just let it happen. Stay curious and open.

“Be grateful if you look younger than your age while also being wiser than many of your contemporaries. It means the fire of your Old Soul is alive and well. Embrace it. Surround yourself with those who celebrate this fiery light shining bright out of your soul; those who are summoned to fan your glimmering flames and dance within them. Embrace them.”

I wish you a zig zag kind of week. Until we meet again.