I am in my late 60s, going into my 70s. By usual reckoning, consider me old indeed.
But after one year of living in the pandemic, it seems that I have grown even older. More so during the past weeks of getting messages about friends and acquaintances dying from Covid-19, day after day.
Is it just me, or has the pandemic forced us all to age faster?
Even young people must have become prematurely older because of what we all have gone through. And it’s not yet over. We might have to go through the same ordeal again because the plague doesn’t seem to want to leave us.
Perhaps my feeling about accelerated aging may have some scientific basis. According to a very recent research, children exposed to adversity (and perhaps calamity such as this protracted pandemic) often show signs of faster cellular aging. They reach puberty earlier than usual.
How can anybody live a normal life in this pandemic that threatens to careen out of control, frustrated and dismayed as we are with the seemingly endless loop of failure, futility, an endless morass of on and off lockdowns?
But I am looking at not just the physical or cellular aging. Mentally and emotionally, we have been forced by circumstances to grow up faster too. A lot of us have started to see life differently.
For those of us, young and old, who have been infected and survived or have lost parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, dearest friends and colleagues, mentors, a new dimension has been added to our perspective that I call “old soul” maturity.
Don’t get me wrong. I use “old soul” in the best meaning of the term. In fact, I like to believe that it is a compliment to be called an old soul, as it implies grace and wisdom. It means that while you may be relatively young in years, you are wise beyond your years.
Basically, an old soul has more understanding of the world around him. These people have become painfully awakened to the fact that good times are not guaranteed; fate can suddenly veer out of track and disrupt everything. They are humble enough to acknowledge that life is random and surprising, but are comforted by the fact that one can always choose how to react and respond to what happens. Horrible stuff happens, and we just have to deal with it.
One young celebrity manifests her old soul outlook by now valuing the present moment, saying, “I realized na I should be present. She also now listens more, being more attentive to people she is talking to.
Being homebound for such a long time must have helped transform young people into old souls. Stuck at home, they now realize that staying at home is not too bad. There is nothing more restful than being in your favorite couch, tucked under a blanket, and simply enjoying the comforts of a place where they feel safe and secure. They don’t have to look far outside to find what really makes them happy.
Rather than dealing with the superficialities of mainstream society, an old soul has deeper interests.
One indication of old soul maturity is that there is less interest in trivialities or what we call kababawan. For instance, the younger members of our family are distancing themselves from people, specially toxic acquaintances and those who waste time on frivolities.
Later I learned that old souls are picky with people they choose to spend time with. They don’t like superficial relationships. So they would rather be alone than to be with people they don’t relate with. They shy away from chaotic, polarizing conversations. As a result, they are often seen alone.
However, while they love solitude, good souls are not unfriendly. In fact, they value relationships. What’s different about them is they go for quality not quantity. My wife, for instance, has pruned the list of her FB friends during this pandemic. She now just wants to limit her response to posts from friends who “talk substance.”
She has also been dishing out words of wisdom from her collection of good quotes and much to her pleasant surprise, young FB friends have been liking them. It’s what she calls her personal “food pantry” for people starving for meaning and inspiration.
These young people are turning out to be not just old souls but also “beautiful souls.” A beautiful soul is the kind of person who has a kind, compassionate spirit, with a kind, giving nature—not hesitating to share what he has with those who have less. Helping other people gives this kind of person a sense of purpose.
The fact that the community pantry was an idea of young people is a testament that this young generation is altruistic. They care for others. Because of the pandemic, there’s a lack of social life so they are now probably focusing more on outwardly sense of purpose, using gadgets not to organize parties but to promote good causes, and doing volunteer work in projects involving the poor and the needy.
When my wife and I learn about an acquaintance that is sick or dying, our children don’t hesitate to chip in when we send financial assistance. Whatever we have now, we give, no ifs and buts.
When hungry people, young or old, bang on our pedestrian gate asking for food scraps or money, we don’t shout at them to go away. We have prepared bags of biscuits and bread as well as sack of coins and small paper money, ready to be handed over to such people. They are no longer looked at as nuisance, but human beings in need of a helping hand. We no longer care if there are opportunists among them who will exploit the situation.
Our kids make sure to give hefty tips to food delivery riders and supermarket baggers who are risking infections by going out to be able to earn something for their families at a time when more and more are losing their jobs because of this unrelenting pandemic and a stingy government.
When we now send our condolences, it goes beyond the perfunctory or obligatory. We feel for the members of the family who have been left behind. When we hear news about people dying in tents or at home because they could not be accommodated in hospitals, we imagine ourselves going through the agonizing moments before their last breath.
One easily gets affected because we are now all sharing this experience of seeing so much brokenness in the world. Sometimes you wish you were powerful enough to make a difference.
In the book I am now reading, the musical composer Stephen Sondheim once described his mentor Oscar Hammerstein as a man of “restricted talent but an infinite soul.” In the midst of all this unceasing suffering, something good is happening. In spite of our restricted abilities and talents as human beings, this pandemic is making us grow up fast into infinitely good old souls.
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