Confronting Terminal Illness & Going Off Grid
In 2018, I received the diagnosis of contracting smoldering multiple myeloma - a terminal bone cancer.
At the age of 57, Purpose had been something that I’d searched for, but had eluded me for decades. I decided to go off grid to regroup, and a little research delivered a 7,000 acre ranch in the Centennial Valley, Montana. There would be no TV, internet, telephone, planes, helicopters, blowers or sirens. Just me, my trusty dog Rupert, a handful of ranch workers, and a bunch of cattle.
I’d dreamt of visiting Big Sky Country since marveling over a National Geographic article as a child. Montana would be the perfect place to get close to the land, come to terms with my illness, release the things that didn’t serve me well, and make inroads into finding Purpose. I’d never had this much space to myself before, and was stepping into NatGeo territory at just the right time.
After a ten day road trip from Phoenix, mesmerized by the ever-changing landscape, I arrived at J Bar L Ranch. Rupert and I jumped out of the car and rushed off to explore until the sun went down. As I lay in bed that night, I read the final chapter of my book “Thunder in The Mountains”. Little did I know at the time, my new home for the summer is situated on one of the most important migratory routes in North America, and was once a fishing and hunting ground for the Nez Perce. I hadn’t thought about my diagnosis all day.
Shortly after my arrival I was introduced to the landowner, Peggy Dulany. A fourth generation Rockefeller who has spent a lifetime restoring America’s landscape and focussing on her formidable philanthropic work. We talked about all sorts of stuff over lunch, and I eventually became comfortable enough to discuss my illness, lack of Purpose, and how pivotal my stay at her ranch was. Since leaving the corporate sector in Australia, I’d spent around 7 years investigating a potential entry into the Food Industry with the aim of reducing childhood obesity and Type II Diabetes. I was at the point of seeking venture capital when I received the diagnosis.
Nobody had booked the property for more than a few days before. Many guests had found the solitude, remoteness and expanse too daunting. Here was a man that had extended his stay to six weeks within a day or two of arrival.
Upon leaving, Peggy extended an invitation to attend her annual retreat for a small group of philanthropists - which started the following day.
The retreat was to last eight days, including three days of isolation atop a snowy mountain in grizzly country. The only supplies being a bag of nuts, piece of cheese, water, honey, can of bear spray, a journal and a shovel.
We confronted our darkest thoughts and shared our brightest moments. I learned some techniques that would help overcome a lifelong anger towards my family for their narcissism, and people who had abused me as a child.
I’d also carried the weight of the world on my shoulders since I started traveling to developing countries in since the 90’s, and found ways to compartmentalize the injustice I saw. These obstacles kept me from having balance, finding peace and being a better partner and friend.
In light of everything, the timing and company were perfection. A few months later, Peggy was interviewed by Worth Magazine, and I discovered that I’d been the first outsider to attend this event. I felt very special.