Old souls and clean slates

Several weeks ago I went to my friend Axel's birthday party, a champagne brunch. The small crowd that assembled ate pastries and sipped champagne and caught up on the events of the past year. We are all friends with Axel but don't see each other independently, so there is much to tell at these annual get-togethers.

One friend brought her two young children, including her infant son, who is just over a year old. He was a charming baby with a brilliant smile. In moments of stillness, though, he adopted a look of deep meditation, a far-away look that suggested an old soul. I was fascinated.

"He looks," I told his mother casually, "as if he's reflecting on his past lives."

His mother thought about this for a moment.

"I don't think I like the idea of my kids having past lives," she said. She preferred the idea that this baby was fresh, new, and unburdened. A clean slate. This got me thinking about my own parents.

I suppose parents need to think like this. As a society, we have such a strong belief in the parent's shaping, nurturing role--and there's no denying the importance of parenting. But sometimes it turns out that the child was a changeling all along.

Months ago, I wrote here about my mother's reaction to my sexuality. She said she couldn't understand how I got to be the way I am, because "your father and I are not like that." I suppose my point is this: whether a child is an old soul or a clean slate is a matter for debate, but however you see it, when that child grows, there will be sides to their personality that are completely foreign and unexpected. And the problem is not how these elements got there, it's how to understand and accept them now that they're visible.