On the Hunt for ‘Indigo Children’: The Next Stage in Human Evolution
Sankar led me to a small stool that faced a black box about the size of a shoebox. The box was fitted with a tiny lens that poked out toward my face and a bundle of wires that coiled back into his computer. “You don’t have to be so nervous,” he assured me. Sticking out of another side of the black box was a wire leading to a hand-shaped pad covered in sensors. Sankar gave me an instruction: “When I say, put your hand on the pad.”
I’d come to Sankar’s studio to have my aura photographed. Which isn’t something I’d usually do, but I was looking into the phenomenon of “indigo children"—kids supposedly born into the next stage of human consciousness, possessing unusual and occasionally supernatural abilities. I’d heard that, when photographed by aura specialists such as Sankar, the full-body indigo halo that surrounds these kids—invisible, of course, to the naked eye—makes itself known. So naturally I wanted to see whether I was one of the blessed souls inhabiting this enlightened plane of being.
Photo taken and aura registered, Sankar—a friendly man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and a studio full of crystals—beckoned me over to his computer to show me the result: a low-quality photograph of my face surrounded by a red cloud that looked like it had been inserted with the spray can tool on Microsoft Paint.       
The author’s aura photograph.
"You’re a very active person, aren’t you?" he asked. I guess I’m active—I mean, I work a lot more than I sleep and I always fall asleep on the sofa, so I’m never technically in bed… “A person’s aura is divided into different sections," Sankar continued. "Each part gives us a reading of a different part of that person’s life. Your aura isintense red.”
“All of it?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Is that normal?”
“There isn’t a normal.”
Continue

On the Hunt for ‘Indigo Children’: The Next Stage in Human Evolution

Sankar led me to a small stool that faced a black box about the size of a shoebox. The box was fitted with a tiny lens that poked out toward my face and a bundle of wires that coiled back into his computer. “You don’t have to be so nervous,” he assured me. Sticking out of another side of the black box was a wire leading to a hand-shaped pad covered in sensors. Sankar gave me an instruction: “When I say, put your hand on the pad.”

I’d come to Sankar’s studio to have my aura photographed. Which isn’t something I’d usually do, but I was looking into the phenomenon of “indigo children"—kids supposedly born into the next stage of human consciousness, possessing unusual and occasionally supernatural abilities. I’d heard that, when photographed by aura specialists such as Sankar, the full-body indigo halo that surrounds these kids—invisible, of course, to the naked eye—makes itself known. So naturally I wanted to see whether I was one of the blessed souls inhabiting this enlightened plane of being.

Photo taken and aura registered, Sankar—a friendly man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and a studio full of crystals—beckoned me over to his computer to show me the result: a low-quality photograph of my face surrounded by a red cloud that looked like it had been inserted with the spray can tool on Microsoft Paint.       


The author’s aura photograph.

"You’re a very active person, aren’t you?" he asked. I guess I’m active—I mean, I work a lot more than I sleep and I always fall asleep on the sofa, so I’m never technically in bed… “A person’s aura is divided into different sections," Sankar continued. "Each part gives us a reading of a different part of that person’s life. Your aura isintense red.”

“All of it?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Is that normal?”

“There isn’t a normal.”

Continue

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