Indigo Children Puns

That is to say, you feel that you should be able to shapeshift, even if you can't in this current life or just haven't been able to unlock it yet. Or feel that you have at least been able to shapeshift in one or more past lives, maybe an ability of which you feel still connected to or that you should have carried over into this lifetime.

I feel I have experienced many lives - ones both outside of this dimension, and ones within this dimension inside of any number of animal bodies (and human bodies of course). I am able to recall some experiences, feelings and energies of being a bat, a fox, a lion, a deer, and more. Either I am recalling a bunch of those separate experiences and they blur together, or I have absolutely been a shapeshifter of some sort in the past. Though I get the very strong feeling I have been both; a shapeshifter before, as well as a soul that has been in many individual Terra bodies and other mythological creature bodies.

I feel most actively tied with fairies in this lifetime. I feel the residue energy of being a fairy. I can feel the energy of that mystical world (fairies, elves, other creatures) beyond the veil of this one, I can sense there are those creatures out there and very close to us at certain times. I have vivid recall of flying around the room as a child, and aside from knowing it wasn't a dream, I've never been able to identify if that occurred in this reality or in another one.

I'm an Indigo child - Can any other Indigo/Crystal/Rainbow, Lightworker, or Starseed souls relate to this?

I’m pretty sure I’m one of these weirdos: I’ve always worn blue, not really by preference, it‘s just the clothes I’ve got have often been blue—blue jackets, blue trousers, blue shorts, blue hats, blue tops, blue shirts. A lady who’s an aura-healer who did some amazing work on a tough ex-soldier at a retreat I was on a couple of years ago checked me over for a problem I have but said my aura was just fine and that I was an indigo-child, I didn’t know what it meant at the time, only that she’d recognised that I was pretty different and weird, which I am. I’m super awkward and can’t even function in society almost, besides going shopping for groceries. Have my own ideas about life and would rather die than live life in servility to another in return for money or clout. Have this nasty chronic problem with my back I’m trying to fix which is an energetic and stress related problem. School was hard. No regular friends anymore—would be nice but I don’t mind, would rather have no-one than people whom I don’t gel with. Always had this obnoxious habit of trying really hard to make a social situation work and make it really fun, because I really do like companionship, and sometimes my efforts pay-off, but it’s always like squeezing blood from a stone. I’m 28 and British. My IQ’s not bad too. Borderline Asperger‘s syndrome—but whatever.

Anyway I heard about the Russian Boriska Kipriyanovich and that got me really thinking that maybe I’m a reincarnated Martian like all us indigo-kids. So would be great to find someone who is both an indigo-child and knows about the Martian link. Also I reckon those aliens could sure as anything fix my back, you see.

Could anyone share anything on the Martian link with the indigo-children, especially with respect to the UK?

This is something for the boomer players out there who followed the pro scene back in the Dota1 days. There used to be a famous rant that LoH did in an English interview that was sort of a copy-pasta before copy-pasta was a thing. It was something about how one day there will be a generation of "indigo children" which will become intellectual elites or something. It was thoroughly stupid but hilarious.

Does anyone have a link to the transcript of this? I have not been able to find it!

EDIT: for some reason the guy who answered deleted his comment.
https://www.liquiddota.com/forum/dota-2-general/454436-general-discussion?page=912#18229

The siren sounded three times. The first wail cut through the peace with vicious certainty of a guillotine. The second and third repeated the urgency of their predecessor, the high pitched warbles hammering home the warning song to all who lived in Mensen Ridge. Population 1034. That’s what the sign had said as he drove over the line of the town limits. Adrian never really saw the point in such disclaimers. If anything, he found them confusing. On one hand, he found it depressing. The human tally a stark reminder of the isolation out in these parts. A mere blimp of humanity lost in a sea of wilderness, cut off, adrift in its own time and place. And then, in that same likeness, he found it foreboding. There was something terrifying about a place so far removed. So, incestuous. They were worlds unto their own, mystic bastions where kings could still exist and outsiders were met with dubious looks and cast with suspicion. Good thing he was only passing through.

The heavy drone of the siren came as a relief, distracting the attention of the other patrons away from him. Sitting with a cup of coffee nestled between his hands, he could feel the locals’ prying stares crawl over his back. Dammit, he could see them in the mirror lining the back wall of the counter. Backwater eyes stuck to him like he was fly paper. Hushed whispers. Shaking heads. Ashes and dust, he hated places like this. But he knew better than to do anything about it. He didn’t need any more trouble. And he was only passing through. The sooner he finished his coffee, the sooner he could be on his way.

That was before the siren blasted through the air. And as the last of it echoed into the deep woodlands, the locals abandoned their tables and hurried out the diner. The parking lot outside turned into a vehicular O.K. Corral. Reverse lights illuminated the early evening air. Headlights scanned the surrounding trees, and tyres screeched against tar. In a matter of moments, the diner was empty. Quiet. He took a sip from his cup. Perhaps he’d get to finish his coffee in peace after all. “What was that all about,” he asked, lukewarm coffee rolling down the back of his tongue. “Tornado?”

The man behind the counter was the quintessential effigy of a diner host. Tall, balding and fat. All wrapped up in a worn apron like a grease-stained present. The man took slow measured steps and came to a halt before him, hands resting neatly on the counter top. A name tag sat lopsided on the lapel of his apr

Thank you for adding me! I was wondering if any indigos were here and what your current thoughts or feelings are? Lately I'm getting a push to prepare my body be as healthy and strong as possible. Ever since I was a child I knew I came here to do something big, change and destroy this current messeged up system were in, but I've also been running from it all my life. Running from leadership too. But my guides keep telling me to have faith and trust them. I can do this and I've done it before. Just wondering if this resonates with anyone else?

I’ve posted to this subreddit before and it helped me find a book I’d been searching for FOREVER, so here we go again. Only this time, I have a little more clues to go off - but still, no Google results! When I was younger I’d frequent the local library and there was a series of childrens’ books about this girl. Here’s everything I remember:

• her name began with an i - Indigo, Immy, Imogen?
• her mum owned a dog rescue business / kennels
• the characters were drawn with these distinctive triangle shaped noses - I’d definitely recognise a picture of them if I saw it
• in one book particularly, (the book had an orange cover) the protagonist girl wanted to buy this cool abstract sort of cat statue which she believed was £40, so she went around trying to raise money and it turned out she’d been looking at the wrong label and it was actually £2

super specific i know, and surprisingly enough, Google still can’t help me! But i know this subreddit will! Reddit, do your thing. <3

Although the man himself is not necessarily a piece (at least imo), the voice he brings out in tracks like Indigo Children, Momma Sed, Rev 22-20 (Dry Martini Mix) and Vagina Mine is just so appealing and sexy to me, and I need more of it

I have a weakness for a really good male bass, exactly like the one MJK does in these tracks. Unfortunately for me, Puscifer reinvents itself all the time (which usually is a really good thing for me), so I don't hear much of his voice like this in the other albums or tracks.

Anything similar, preferably a male voice, something dark, something that would make a former goth girl swoon

And P.S.

Other bands/artists I already like too, but have not heard all of, if you know if they have anything in this alley:

KMFDM, Marilyn Manson, Perfect Circle, Tool (obv.), Rammstein, Pig

Hey there!

I've been looking more at Indigo children birth chart shapes which are considered to be bowls or buckets - but I am wondering if they could also be a see-saw with the majority of planets being in three houses (houses 1 thru 3), and two planets in the opposite 8th house (see-saw shape).

Buckets are characterized by a singleton planet that is in the opposite house of the "cluster" of planets in the Bowl. I am currently looking at a birth chart that has this shape, except the opposing house from the cluster has both Jupiter and Chiron in the "handle". Since neither Jupiter nor Chiron are "singleton" because they have each other in this opposing house, the birth chart shape is technically a See-Saw, albeit being very unbalanced (all the other planets are residing in houses 1 thru 3 as the "cluster").

Let me know if anyone has the answer as to whether this birth chart would still be considered an Indigo birth chart!

This was a big thing in the 90s and early 2000s. Parents of children with ADHD or other learning disabilities decided to label them as Indigo Children instead. They wanted to think of it as spiritual advancement, and believed that their children were born here to change the world. You don't hear about this any more. Were you an Indigo Child? How did your life turn out? Were you a parent of an Indigo Child? Did they change the world?

Indigo children were a hot topic in like the 70s apparently. I've read books about them recently because I crossed paths with a self professed medium who took one look at my l.o. and said "you have an old soul on your hands" My daughter has an IQ measured in the high 140s, low 150s and has been exceptional and, well, different since birth. Aside from that, she has a sense of empathy that just defies common sense.

So back to this lady's comment about my child being an Indigo kid and an old soul....Well, duh, yeah I know.
Then she talked of Indigo Children more and piqued my interest.
Anyways, I am wondering or musing really, if anyone knows a child who is claimed to be an Indigo Child and if you notice heightened comfort or awareness that they have with paranormal.
I know that my daughter has had several, interactions I guess I could call them as opposed to episodes. One in particular:
She was in and out of hospitals for a number of months. We eventually found out that she has two genetic conditions and her symptoms, seemingly odd and random were actually from those conditions. We were at the valet at the children's hospital waiting for our car when a woman walked by with her child in a wheelchair. The child was physically handicapped from the neck down and also had a number of cognitive challenges BUT the little girl was absolutely glowing and giggly, sweet and just a bundle of joy. My child stopped dead in her tracks, turned to face the girl in the wheelchair and cocked her head to the side. When we got into the car she was quiet for a bit and then all at once started blurting out random thoughts in her head. She talked about the girl in the wheelchair with the big smile "glowing" "shining" and then said that the "light" follows her in the form of a large white glowing bald man who doesn't leave her side. She described the person as being strong and not like us. She was the ripe old age of 3 when this happened.

What I realize now is that the energy of an entire room/building changes when my child walks into the room.
I hesitate to share the actual "supernatural" or "paranormal" or even coincidental stories at this time because I'm trying to find out if other Indigo kids see the world differently or not.

I recently confided in my mom about a spirit encounter I had recently, and she told me I was old enough to learn about some past experiences she had with me.

The first was one day at a community lake, a man approached her, and told her he was to deliver a message at the “sea of gold.” When he got to the lake, the yellow jacaranda tree flowers fell and covered the water. A “gold” sea. Then he saw me and felt compelled to tell my mom he was from some society with the name “unicorn” in it (she couldn’t remember but said he had some member card or ID) that he was to deliver a message, and would know it when he saw it. He said he had to tell my mom that I was a “volunteer” and essentially my soul was one that had completed its mission on earth and had volunteered to come back and try to make a difference. I was around 5 at the time.

5 years later, my mom struck a conversation with a woman at an animal rescue facility I was volunteering at, that told her she believed I was an “indigo child.”

Is anyone able to explain these concepts more in depth or what it means?

Edit: grammar

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The siren sounded three times. The first wail cut through the peace with vicious certainty of a guillotine. The second and third repeated the urgency of their predecessor, the high pitched warbles hammering home the warning song to all who lived in Mensen Ridge. Population 1034. That’s what the sign had said as he drove over the line of the town limits. Adrian never really saw the point in such disclaimers. If anything, he found them confusing. On one hand, he found it depressing. The human tally a stark reminder of the isolation out in these parts. A mere blimp of humanity lost in a sea of wilderness, cut off, adrift in its own time and place. And then, in that same likeness, he found it foreboding. There was something terrifying about a place so far removed. So, incestuous. They were worlds unto their own, mystic bastions where kings could still exist and outsiders were met with dubious looks and cast with suspicion. Good thing he was only passing through.

The heavy drone of the siren came as a relief, distracting the attention of the other patrons away from him. Sitting with a cup of coffee nestled between his hands, he could feel the locals’ prying stares crawl over his back. Dammit, he could see them in the mirror lining the back wall of the counter. Backwater eyes stuck to him like he was fly paper. Hushed whispers. Shaking heads. Ashes and dust, he hated places like this. But he knew better than to do anything about it. He didn’t need any more trouble. And he was only passing through. The sooner he finished his coffee, the sooner he could be on his way.

That was before the siren blasted through the air. And as the last of it echoed into the deep woodlands, the locals abandoned their tables and hurried out the diner. The parking lot outside turned into a vehicular O.K. Corral. Reverse lights illuminated the early evening air. Headlights scanned the surrounding trees, and tyres screeched against tar. In a matter of moments, the diner was empty. Quiet. He took a sip from his cup. Perhaps he’d get to finish his coffee in peace after all. “What was that all about,” he asked, lukewarm coffee rolling down the back of his tongue. “Tornado?”

The man behind the counter was the quintessential effigy of a diner host. Tall, balding and fat. All wrapped up in a worn apron like a grease-stained present. The man took slow measured steps and came to a halt before him, hands resting neatly on the counter top. A name tag sat lopsided on the lapel of his a