When You Are Old (One of my favorite poems)

Thanks to Lara for sharing this poem with me in our freshman year of high school. As followers of the television series The Twilight Zone, she helped me recall an episode entitled "Her Pilgrim Soul", in which a scientist watches a female hologram grow from infancy, through adulthood, and into old age.

William Butler Yeats. b. 1865

When You Are Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Of Pilgrim Souls And Kindred Spirits

I believe that this lifetime is not the end-all and be-all of me. I mean, get run over by a truck, smack, that’s it, sayonara? Nah.

I believe that each of us is a soul traveling through the eons one lifetime at a time. I believe that in each lifetime, we learn lessons, build intimate friendships, and endure experiences that alter us at the very core.

I have a friend with whom I share a profound, and somewhat weird, relationship that neither of us can quite explain. We were close friends for two years before I moved to the U.S. and lost contact with him. But in the four years that we did not hear from each other, I knew – not just felt, but knew -- that he was right there. I could feel him in the back of my mind and knew he did not forget about me. I also knew without question that whenever I’d come home to visit, we’d meet just like old times, even though I had no phone number or email address with which to start looking. I did not know if he was married, or if he had kids, or what he was doing in life.

One day, I got the greatest surprise when he found a way to reach me, just a few months before I was coming home to visit. I met him with a bunch of old friends at the bowling alley that had always been our usual place. Such an unusual feeling, those first moments: he was sitting at a table, several feet away from me, and we were hardly even talking, but I felt calmness in my heart. Just from knowing he was there, even realizing how little I knew about his life after being gone for so long. But I accepted, even appreciated, that feeling of peace like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Since then, we’ve talked about our friendship; about how while I was gone, he could feel my presence as well; how when I was going through a difficult time, he would worry about me without knowing why; and how these days while I’m back where I live half a world away, I get this unmistakable feeling of him calling out to me at moments when, I find out later, he actually does in his head.

We’re not really close, he says. We haven’t been around each other enough to build that mundane sort of friendship. But what I believe, and maybe he does too, is that our souls have known each other for a very long time.

I imagine he perceives my pilgrim soul. He accepts me for what he sees, not even wondering about the stuff he doesn’t. Exactly how I’ve always felt about him.

And so this one soul's journey continues, through the eons, one day at a time. (Oh the plethora of stuff to write about!) And you're invited to come along.