8 hobbies that subtly scream you’re a deeply old soul in a modern world

I was scrolling through Instagram the other day when I noticed something odd: while my feed was full of people posting their latest tech hauls and trending dance challenges, I was genuinely excited about finding a vintage record store in Silver Lake that had an original pressing of a Nick Drake album.

It got me thinking about how some of us are just wired differently. We're not necessarily better or worse than anyone else, but we're drawn to things that feel timeless in a world obsessed with what's new.

If you've ever felt a little out of step with the pace of modern life, you might be what people call an "old soul." And honestly? Your hobbies probably give you away.

Here are eight pastimes that quietly signal you're someone who values depth, craft, and connection over the endless scroll.

1. You collect vinyl records

There's something about the ritual of playing a record that streaming just can't touch.

I started collecting vinyl back in my music blogging days, and even now, with all the convenience of Spotify at my fingertips, I still find myself reaching for my turntable on weekends. The crackle before the music starts, the album art you can actually hold and study, the way you have to commit to listening to a full side without skipping tracks.

It's intentional. It's analog. It forces you to slow down.

And that's exactly why old souls are drawn to it. We're not collecting vinyl to be contrarian or hipster about it. We genuinely appreciate the experience of music as something tactile and deliberate, not just background noise while we do other things.

Plus, there's a direct connection to the artist's vision. Albums were meant to be experienced as complete works, not just shuffled singles.

2. You spend time in used bookstores

While everyone else is downloading the latest bestseller to their Kindle, you're the person who can lose an entire Saturday afternoon browsing dusty shelves in a cramped bookstore that smells like old paper and possibility.

Used bookstores are treasure hunts for people who value stories that have already lived other lives. Each book carries its own history beyond the words on the page. The margins filled with someone else's notes, the inscription from 1987, the receipt used as a bookmark from a café that probably doesn't exist anymore.

Old souls understand that not everything worth having needs to be new or optimized. Sometimes the best discoveries are the ones you stumble upon, not the ones an algorithm serves up based on your browsing history.

There's also something grounding about being surrounded by physical books. Ideas that have stood the test of time, collected in one place, waiting for someone to pick them up and continue the conversation.

3. You write letters by hand

When was the last time you received an actual letter in the mail that wasn't a bill or advertisement?

If you're someone who still writes letters, you know the answer: probably from you.

Handwritten correspondence is nearly extinct, which is exactly why it means so much when someone takes the time to do it. There's thought involved. You have to consider what you want to say before you put pen to paper because you can't just delete and retype.

Old souls appreciate this slower form of communication. We understand that some things are worth the extra effort, that meaning often comes from the time and care we invest in something, not just the efficiency of getting it done.

A text message says "thinking of you for three seconds." A handwritten letter says "you matter enough for me to sit down, focus, and create something just for you."

4. You garden or grow your own food

There's nothing particularly old-fashioned about understanding where your food comes from, but in a world of meal delivery apps and pre-washed salad bags, actually growing things yourself is increasingly rare.

I've got a small balcony garden in my Venice Beach apartment where I grow herbs and a few vegetables. It's not exactly a farm, but there's something deeply satisfying about cooking with basil I've been watching grow for weeks.

Gardening connects you to natural cycles that our modern lives tend to obscure. You can't rush a tomato plant. You can't hack your way to faster lettuce. You have to work with nature's timeline, not against it.

Old souls are drawn to this because we tend to value patience and process over instant gratification. We understand that good things take time and attention, and we're willing to put in the work even when we could just buy the result at a store.

Plus, there's something humbling about depending on sun and soil and water. It reminds you that you're part of a larger system, not separate from it.

5. You practice traditional crafts or handwork

Knitting, woodworking, pottery, embroidery, leatherwork. These aren't just hobbies, they're meditations.

When you're engaged in craft work, you're creating something with your hands that requires focus and skill developed over time. You can't multitask your way through hand-stitching a quilt or throwing a pot on a wheel.

Old souls are attracted to these practices because they offer a counterpoint to our digital existence. Most of what we do now leaves no physical trace. We send emails that disappear into inboxes. We create documents that exist only as data. We have conversations that vanish the moment they're over.

But when you make something by hand, you've created an object that will outlast you. Something that carries the marks of your particular hands, your specific attention, your unique imperfections.

There's also deep satisfaction in mastering a skill that takes years to develop, in a culture that promises you can learn anything in a weekend workshop.

6. You take long walks without your phone

Do you regularly go for walks where the point isn't exercise or getting somewhere, but just walking itself?

And here's the kicker: do you do it without constantly checking your phone or listening to podcasts or music?

Old souls need space to think, and walking provides that. There's something about the rhythm of footsteps that helps organize thoughts in a way sitting still never quite achieves.

I do a lot of my best thinking on walks through my neighborhood or up in Griffith Park. No agenda, no destination, just movement and observation and whatever thoughts want to surface.

This kind of unstructured time is increasingly rare. We're so used to optimizing every moment, filling every silence with content, that the idea of just walking and thinking feels almost radical.

But it's not radical. It's actually one of the oldest human activities. We've been walking and thinking for as long as we've been human. Old souls instinctively understand that some practices don't need to be improved or enhanced. They're already perfect as they are.

7. You cook from scratch without recipes

Not just cooking, but the kind of cooking where you know ingredients well enough to improvise. Where you can look in your fridge, see what needs to be used, and create something without consulting your phone every thirty seconds.

This kind of cooking requires both knowledge and intuition. You need to understand how flavors work together, how heat transforms ingredients, what textures complement each other. That kind of knowledge only comes from doing it repeatedly, from paying attention, from occasionally failing.

Old souls are drawn to this because it's a practice that can't be rushed or outsourced. You have to be present. You have to use your senses. You have to make adjustments based on what's happening right now, not what the recipe predicted would happen.

There's also something deeply connective about cooking this way. You're participating in a tradition that goes back thousands of years, using techniques that haven't fundamentally changed even as everything else has.

When I'm making a curry from scratch or trying to veganize my grandmother's recipes, I'm not just making dinner. I'm having a conversation with everyone who's ever stood over a pot and adjusted the seasoning until it tasted right.

8. You study philosophy or keep a journal

How often do you spend time thinking about big questions? Not just wondering about them in passing, but actually sitting with them, exploring them, trying to articulate what you believe and why?

Old souls tend to be naturally philosophical. We're not content with surface-level answers. We want to understand not just what's happening, but why it matters and what it means.

This often shows up as journaling, where you're essentially having a conversation with yourself, working through ideas on paper. Or it might look like reading philosophy, not for school or work, but because you're genuinely interested in how other people have grappled with questions about meaning and purpose and how to live.

I keep a journal that's part observation, part processing, part random thoughts that don't fit anywhere else. It's not for anyone else to read. It's just for me to think more clearly, to track how my understanding changes over time, to have a record of who I was at different moments.

This kind of introspection isn't valued much in a culture that prioritizes productivity and external achievement over internal development. But old souls know that understanding yourself is foundational to everything else. How can you make good decisions if you don't know what you actually value? How can you build a meaningful life if you've never examined what meaning looks like for you?

Conclusion

If several of these hobbies resonate with you, you're probably someone who values depth over speed, quality over quantity, and meaning over convenience.

That doesn't make you better than anyone else. It just means you're tuned to a different frequency than what modern culture typically broadcasts.

The world needs people like you. People who remember that not everything worth doing can be optimized, that some experiences are valuable precisely because they take time, and that there's wisdom in old practices that haven't been improved by adding "smart" to the beginning.

So keep collecting those records, writing those letters, and taking those long walks. You're not old-fashioned. You're just paying attention to things that matter, even when the algorithm can't measure them.