Chapter 5: Becoming Who I Am

There is a lot to unload in this little package. My story consists of past life akashic records, current life trials and tribulations, and multidimensional timelines interwoven with Divine. Where shall I begin? I suppose I could just start with the basics. Born on a rainy spring Monday morning in April, during a Mercury retrograde in Pisces, and into the arms of an earth mama, I was never meant to live a normal life.

My parents, Nia Makeida and Reko Lion, two Rastafarian Midwesterners brought me into this world at home in a room painted gold for my arrival. My father migrated from Jamaica and gave me the names Princess Leah and his mother’s name Melita. My mom called me her “Golden Child,” and anointed me with the names Jael I. Tafari. These were no ordinary parents of mine, but pioneers of reggae music and West African dance in the heart of America. I was raised in Kansas City, but my bubble of familiar was tightly knitted within the crevasse of unorthodox traditions compared to western civilization.

Throughout my life, I fumbled in between worlds, looking for spaces where I belong. Nothing seemed fit. Was I Christian or Orthodox or Rastafarian? Was I bougie or poor? Was I normal or weird? No kid looked like me, dread headed and thin. No kid spoke like me, articulate and free-minded. I felt things in a way that seemed more dramatic than others, and they didn’t understand my deep reactions to little matters. As lonely as it felt, I loved this little bubble. It was all I knew.

I think that’s why my connection with Spirit is so sincere. As long as I can remember, I was tuning into a Higher power that I didn’t fully understand but knew always guided and protected me. We called it Jah. My childhood nickname was Jae, so it felt especially close to home. My mom would answer my questions of why we were struggling so much financially if my name was Princess and she called herself Queen by stating that I was the “Po’ Princess.” I never quite understood or favored that name. I hated being poor and compared to my rich friends at the private school I went to. I also hated comparing myself to my friends from my old neighborhoods and then say I was poor.

I always knew there was something more for my life and my family. I knew we were meant for better and bigger things than my mom working multiple jobs in healthcare and overnight hospital shifts. I knew I had a purpose for my gifts and love of music that was meant to bring healing and pull us out of poverty. I knew my tears were not falling in vain even when words couldn’t explain the feelings. I knew that if Jah was standing by my side then I shall not be afraid of the pestilence that crawleth by night.

I cried a lot as a child, and even more so as an adult. My mother wrote a song called “Crying Angel.” I’m not sure if it was written when I was born, but it definitely was for and about me. I have tears moving through me right now as I write. Her lyrics spoke, “Call me your crying angel. I cry for the world. Call me your tender-hearted angel. I feel all your pain.”

It makes perfect sense now that I’m aware of my spiritual gifts of being a lightworker and intuitive artist. I cry to transmute the pain into love. I cry to shift us out of darkness and into light frequency. I cry for the world. Many people don’t understand this concept when they ask me what I do for a living. To respond with, “I am a crying angel” would raise a lot of eyebrows and would actually probably be a lot of fun to watch their faces! Fortunately, this world is starting to prepare itself for people like me. Earth Healers.

I battled a lot of demons in my coming of age. I’ve learned now that when you are blessed and highly favored by Divine, you are also highly favored by its enemy. The devil threw a lot at me as a child and teen. I was molested by the dancers in my West African group at a very young age, and I didn’t know how to understand that. It didn’t dawn on me until 20 years later after I gave birth to my son, Indigo. My Root Chakra was wide open, and all the memories from age 0-8 came flooding in.

It actually made sense that I would’ve been molested, given the hyper-sexual curiosities I exercised. There had to be a reason behind the bisexual promiscuity besides the abandonment daddy issues. PTSD was the perfect answer to my college “ho” days and the STDs I brought home on holiday. I know it’s not very nice to degrade myself in this context, but sometimes I have to use dark humor to lighten the mood, as much of an oxymoron that might be.

Luckily, I’ve had enough come-to-Jesus moments to finally learn my lesson. You’d be surprised that what actually struck my heart chakra hard enough to change my ways was love. Sometimes we wake up by hitting rock bottom, and sometimes we wake up by falling in love. And sometimes we wake up after we hit rock bottom from falling in love. I’ve been on all three roads, and I even made a couple slippery slopes along the way. The love from being a mother has awakened my healing path in unmeasurable ways. I never thought I’d understand unconditional love the way I do when I look at my beautiful son. Giving birth to him was like giving birth to a whole new me. I had someone to live for beyond myself.

There were several occasions where I did not want to live, and I tried ending my life. Once when I was very young, maybe 6 or 7, I contemplated walking in front of a car because there was such inexplicable pain that I couldn’t articulate. In 8th grade, I tried to strangle myself in my closet with a belt after being a part of a middle school scandal that tarnished my innocent new girl reputation. And then my senior year of high school, I tried to OD on my uncle’s pills after leaving home because my mom took her boyfriend back, who I hated, and my boyfriend wouldn’t take me back, which I hated. I’m glad to say I haven't made any more attempts since then.

To be completely honest, there are still days where I don’t think I can make it through, and I remember that my son needs me, and that’s the only thing that keeps me alive. As a lightworker, the density of this earth can be so heavy that it truly feels impossible to bear. I pray for everyone who is on this path of healing the heart of a woman and the soul of mankind to continue having the strength to endure this journey. You are not alone. If you ever feel defeated and want to give up, please call a trusted friend or hotline. You don’t have to do this alone.

I give so much glory to God when it comes to the breaking points in my life. If it weren't for Divine protection, the devil would’ve taken me out a long time ago. The fact that I’m still here is a testimony to Conscious Love. I am forever grateful, and I hope to be an inspiration for someone who needs to hear this part of my story. I may not know you directly, but I love you and I am here for you. May God bless and keep you.

I know I am divinely protected by my ancestors and earth angels. I feel them every day. My lineage goes all the way back to ancient Egypt and even beyond to Lemuria. My DNA and light codes are sacred, and I will forever be guided amongst the royalties of Divinity. This is my legacy. This is my birthright. This is my road to Conscious Love.