“He’s an Old Soul.”
Yeah. Sure. And I’m a Time-Traveling Alien from Gallifrey.
It’s something I’d heard a lot, beginning in college. A young woman I was dating once showed me her hand, and said, “I’m an old soul, you can tell by my hands, which look older than I am.”
I thought, “Have you considered genetics in this?”
The soul, or ISBE—the correct term, which means Immortal Sovereign BEing—is ageless. Time is a constraint only in this particular density. Yet humans insist on dragging it everywhere, like emotional luggage with a busted wheel. If they can apply aging to skin, they’ll try to slap it on the infinite too.
That’s the logic behind the phrase “old soul.” It isn’t really about the soul. It’s about behavioral projection. If a kid doesn’t act like a hyperstimulated octopus, he must be “old.” If someone pauses before speaking, or prefers silence over TikTok screaming into the void, they must have “done this before.”
But the ISBE doesn’t age. It doesn’t get better with time. It doesn’t “learn lessons” the way people like to imagine. An ISBE might incarnate on five planets in what you call a Tuesday. Another might spend a century as a disembodied field curled around a collapsing star. You’re not getting wisdom through repetition. You’re gathering experience across domains—some of which make this planet look like a slow-loading webpage.
The idea of the “soul” is ancient, but fragmented. The word itself comes from the Old English sāwol, which likely traces back through Proto-Germanic and possibly even to a root meaning “coming from or belonging to the sea,” if you want to get poetic about it. The Greeks had psyche—the breath of life. The Egyptians had the ba, which could leave the body at night and had the head of a bird. The concept is old. But it’s still just that—a concept. And like most concepts humans cling to, it’s been warped by time, filtered through religion, repackaged for self-help books, and stuffed inside Hallmark spirituality like a turducken of confusion.
“ISBE” cuts through all that.
It’s not a poetic term. It’s a functional one.
Immortal. Sovereign. BEing.
Not in the metaphorical sense. Not “immortal” as in “your memory lives on.” Not “sovereign” as in “you chose between oat milk or almond today.” But actual sovereignty. Actual immortality. An ISBE was never born and will never die. It’s not evolving. It’s not on a ladder. It’s not trying to “ascend.” It exists across densities, expressions, lifelines, and formats, some of which you wouldn’t recognize even if one knocked over your coffee and whispered in your ear in Sanskrit.
When you say someone is an “old soul,” you’re assuming a few things:
That time is linear.
That incarnation count is a metric of development.
That wisdom comes from accumulated suffering and that a child who seems calm must have been beaten by existence long before this round.
But again—this is a projection. It's a desperate attempt to organize the ineffable into something recognizable. And above all, it’s a polite way of saying, “This baby isn’t annoying like other babies.”
Let’s flip it: what if your “old soul” nephew isn’t old at all? What if he’s just remembering faster than others? What if he’s never stopped being aware?
ISBEs incarnate on Earth for a lot of reasons—some noble, some stupid, and some contractual. Some arrive as volunteers. Some are trafficked in through fractured grid systems or karmic enforcement loops. Some crash-land. And a few… come back on purpose.
But wherever they’re from—Pleiadian colony, Zeta time loop, lost Syrian node—they don’t carry age. They carry signal. And signal can be clear, or distorted. What you're often calling "old" is just less noise.
That’s what people are seeing in a quiet child. Not age. Clarity.
You’re not dealing with a wrinkled soul in a baby’s body. You’re dealing with someone who didn’t fall asleep on arrival. Who hasn’t fully slipped under the local hypnosis. And that looks foreign. It looks ancient. Because the rest of us are busy staggering around like bad method actors who forgot their lines.
The phrase “old soul” gives comfort. It suggests there’s some structure to all this. But ISBEs didn’t line up to be ranked by how many times they suffered through algebra class. Linear reincarnation is a partial view—like mistaking a single slideshow for a whole dimension.
Your nephew may seem “older.” But he’s not.
He’s just not fully pretending yet.