Old souls, or old slates, as I call them, are those who have inherited a large amount of ancestral remembrances, or epigenetic memory. To best understand them, it is helpful to know something about new slates, or those who retain no epigenetic remembrances at all and go through life comparatively uninfluenced by anything that took place in the lives of their ancestors.

Because they find little familiarity with most new things, as children, new slates can be easily entertained, and as they mature, they approach life with uncommon freshness. They are usually congenial personalities, rarely bored or boring, but in their enthusiasm to explore all that life has to offer, they sometimes go dangerously far.

Like the grandchild who was left out of the will, the new slate starts out in life at a certain disadvantage. Having none of the acquired wisdom of his ancestors to draw upon, having inherited no previous memory to help him recognize situations, he has a tremendous amount of learning to do, and it often takes him a painfully long time to see the truth. He is, so to speak, the one who is most likely to have to touch the stove in order to see that it is hot. Since it takes him a while to assimilate what he encounters, the new slate is likely to get stuck in levels of learning.

At the other extreme are the old slates, who, as children, often posses a wisdom far beyond their years. Much more aware of their surroundings than are most of their contemporaries, they tend to know too much, too fast. These are the youngsters who seem to be four-going-on-forty.

As adults, old slates are intense personalities and have an ability to reach the top of the ladder very quickly; yet, all too often, their immediate recognition of and familiarity with diverse people, places, and situations causes them to become distracted and bored. As the result, the old slate's descent may be as spectacular as his rise. Commonly, things don't hold his interest for long. For example, while an expensive new sports car may keep a new slate occupied for a year, the old slate, with the recollection of having had new toys before, will be over the excitement in a matter of hours.

For new slates, life is a buffet, and they are tasting everything for the first time, including life's lessons; for old slates, it mostly seems like old hat. Normalcy bores the old slate, and this can lead to self-destruction, through diversions such as drugs, alcohol, and gambling. He sometimes becomes very unhappy in a search for something to flip his switch, so to speak, and although he may use a vice to try to escape his inherent wisdom altogether, he hates to be controlled. Accordingly, should he find his life ruled by external influences, he will often break away from them.

Over the years, I have noticed that old slates are happiest as organizers, rather than as implementors. Predictably, such persons in business will found a company, delegate the responsibility of its operation to others, and then move on to something else. When the old slate's desire for new things to intrigue his mind goes unfulfilled, one finds a restless spirit.

Old slates are usually born with at least one of five gifts: creativity, teaching, counseling, intuition, and healing. Typically, it is their boredom that drives them to be creative. They will do whatever they can to see the world differently, even if it is nothing more than moving the furniture around. Because old slates tire easily of material things, they often find their greatest happiness helping others, especially new slates. Their instinctive familiarity with the world makes them good teachers, and their epigenetic recollection, from which they derive an exceptional sense of empathy, makes them effective counselors or healers of one kind or another.

The depression that afflicts many old slates is best treated, I believe, through service to others. Many highly accomplished people of this kind would be quite bored if they were not helping others. East Tennessee's own, Dolly Parton, comes to mind when thinking of old slates who have constructively channeled their energies in this way.

So, how do I recognize an old slate when I see one? The eyes provide a clue; the shape and color of the aura reveal much more. And in case you're wondering where you, yourself, may fall on the continuum of epigenetic memory content, it may be helpful to know that, in contrast with the character extremes of new slates and old slates, most people exhibit the personalities of middle-aged slates - those possessing a moderate number of ancestral remembrances.

I hope that you have found my answer to be helpful. For more information on the subjects of epigenetic memory and old slates, you may wish to reference Petitioning Reality with Faith. In my forthcoming new book, Divine Chaos, I will explore these topics in even greater detail.