Auras

I'm a believer.
In most things.
Some kind of god.
Destiny.
That things happen for a reason.
Entropy.

Yesterday a healer read my aura as he diagnosed my health through my feet. Before I even saw him I was convinced.

He told me that my aura was orange. A bright blending of Red and Yellow.
I was wearing an orange scarf. And orange sandals.
Everyone knows Orange is my favorite color.

Instead of being happy, I felt strangely disappointed. I could have guessed my aura. Orange oozes out of my pores, and glows through the way that I talk, walk, dress and think.

Where is my blue thoughtfulness?
An indigo spirituality?
A green open heart.

He told me that my mind was too full of swirling thoughts to meditate. That my energy peaks like a tsunami rather than rolling along like a calm sea or a river. I am either awake with two eyes popped open, buzzing around like a hummingbird or off like a light. I should aim for a rolling brook, he suggested.

He told me that I was healthy. Inside-and-out. Because I don't believe that I will get sick. My pancreas told him, through my feet, that I like sweet things.

When I was younger, my diet consisted of gummi-orange-slices. I thought I had moved on?