Confessions of My Soul: The Dance with the Dark Lord

For too long, I have carried the weight of a generational curse, a shadow lingering through my life, creeping into everything I did. Yes, I know — I’m an adult, and at some point, it’s up to me to take responsibility for my own path. But no matter how much work I did, no matter how many hours I spent writing, speaking, guiding others, and talking to myself in search of the truth, something elusive held me back.

I have been blessed with insights, wisdom pouring through me, yet I found myself questioning: How can I embrace the fullness of who I am? How can I live at my highest when I seem to rise and fall repeatedly? How could I be at Peace—the highest frequency—only to slip, again and again, into a cycle that seemed to start over? ?

One day, sitting on my surfboard, I began to observe myself with greater scrutiny. I had good days, days where I felt like a surf god, like God Himself had smiled upon me. I thought, "Jesus walked on water and didn’t need a board—maybe I’m getting close." And yet, the next day, it was as though I had regressed to being a beginner. It puzzled me. Was it the board I took? The conditions? Or was there something within me, something deeper that I couldn’t yet name?

I decided to commit: 40 days of surfing. No matter what, I would find it. You might be wondering, was it just surfing? Could I find this truth in the boardroom as a CEO? Or meditating with monks on a mountaintop? The answer is yes—I could find it anywhere. I had achieved success in all of these places, even in spaces people told me I had no business being in. I had met with gurus, learned from wise teachers, and yet, this last piece of my journey required something only I could do. I had to face it alone.

I was dancing with the Dark Lord—tangled in things that weren’t really me. Cars, clothes, houses, relationships, even the relationship with myself. Think about that: being in a relationship with yourself. It’s absurd, isn’t it? Are there two of me? Of you? Yes, until we understand that we are truly one, we live in duality. Thank heavens, I can see now.

This inner battle, this demon within, I had to face it head-on. It could no longer hide once I called it by its name. And what I discovered was that this darkness fed on everything I allowed—the people I let mistreat me, the inner critic telling me nothing was ever good enough. It thrived on every crack of insecurity I nurtured.

I began to look deeper. Every off-color joke, every moment of doubt, I traced back to my own self-talk. Slowly, I made peace with the negativity around me, but still, I asked: Where is this coming from?

Despite my outward success, something gnawed at me. People saw me winning awards, rising to the top, yet I carried a heavy burden inside. So, what do you do when you win one of the highest honors you didn’t even know existed? When I traveled to Stockholm, Sweden, to receive the Ambassador of Peace Award from the World Peace Award committee, I thought it would change everything. But once I came back, I was haunted again by that old story—the same old perspective rearing its head.

Back on my surfboard, I was flowing, but one day, I didn’t take all the proper steps. My board wasn’t waxed well, and while catching a wave, I pushed beyond my limit. That wave attacked my body—my knee, hip, back—all at once. I was forced to pause, to step away from the water. And that’s when football season rolled around, and my old story came crashing back in.

It was my grandmother, Morningstar, who gave me the key. She told me to look inside for 40 days, to figure out what I could commit to for life, as I once had with football. Little did I know, my body would shut down during this period. I was forced to stay home, and I was bedridden from an infection that had taken hold. It was the perfect storm—literally and metaphorically—and I couldn’t run anymore.

Forty days later, I emerged, nearly healed. I called my grandmother to share what I had discovered. But just as I was so close, the darkness clutched me harder. The dance with the Dark Lord wasn’t over yet. The thought of suicide crossed my mind, and that’s when I heard the inner voice: "It’s not death you seek, it’s the death of the last piece of your ego."

I get it now.

I prayed for a miracle, and it came. One night, while reading my own book The Secret Weapon to our group, the realization struck. The stories I had written, the laughter they brought—they began to surface something I hadn’t acknowledged. My wife asked me a question that cut through the fog: "What is your greatest accomplishment?"

I couldn’t answer.

I looked at my books on the shelf. Sure, I was proud of them. But there was something else. My wife reminded me of the Peace Award I had just received, something I had pushed aside in my struggle. And then, the truth emerged: I had an inner critic, a program of failure planted in me long ago. People who loved me, people who didn’t know any better, had unknowingly helped build this demon.?

But now, I see you, Dark Lord. I know your game. You wanted me to believe I was a failure because you knew the light I am. But I am not a failure—I am a success.

So, what is my greatest accomplishment?

I am still here. No matter how many times I wanted to leave, to end it all, I am still here. No matter what trickery or lies you threw my way, I am free. I am still here, and better than ever.

The game is over.

Here’s the revised ending of your story:

I leave you with this. The generational curse that was impregnated into my psyche is like the story of training a flea. When you go to the circus, have you ever wondered how they get the fleas to stay on a plate? Here’s how. If you put a flea in a jar—a flea that can jump stories high in one leap—the flea will continually hit its head on the top of the jar. When the top of the jar is removed, the flea will only jump as high as the jar. When the flea is set on a plate, it believes it’s still in the jar, and even though it could leap to freedom, it never will because it’s been trained.

The curse of "I was a failure" has been the lid on the jar that kept me prisoner in my own life. It served its purpose, allowing me to pursue things beyond my wildest dreams, but now it’s time to remove the lid and go where no one has gone before.

Ask yourself: Is there a lid holding you back? What if you were able to release that lid? Are you ready for what is waiting for you?

I would love to help you get free. That is why we are here.

Peace.