He said, “You know, Shannon, depression is a spirit. It’s a seductive spirit. Because, while it’s tearing you apart, it’s also feeding you chemicals that feel good. Good enough to make you keep it around. Good enough to not cast it out… You can be free.”

Suddenly, I saw myself making my way thru LAX - prophetic, forward-moving, life-giving paintings in my right hand and Jermaine’s urn under my left arm - and heard:

‘NO EXTRA BAGGAGE’

boom loudly and clearly in my spirit. I knew what it meant instantly…

Yesterday Nipsey Hussle died. Rapper to some. Visionary to others. Father, son, brother, and friend to a few. Humanitarian and man of the people to most. We met a couple times, were from the same hometown on Los Angeles’ westside, and we travelled in some of the same circles in the LA entertainment orbit but I can’t say I ‘knew’ him. Still…I can feel it.

What do you even SAY to something like that? I’ll tell you… Nothing! I had no response to that. But the wheels were already turning and the examination of the deepest motivations of my heart had begun. How could loving someone work out to be something that was actually only benefitting me? What kind of kung fu WAS this?!

She’d gone out with this man several times and, try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to get into him. On paper, he was great. And she knew it. So did he. But she was a vibrant woman still ascending into her prime (btw…those old beliefs that a woman HITS her prime in her mid-30s are horribly misleading. if truth be told, sliding into the midpoint of your third decade signals the START of hitting your prime, ladies, and, from what I hear, it goes on and on and on from there... You’re welcome 😉) and he…well he was a guy who knew he looked good on paper.