Confronting terminal illness
In 2018, at 57 years old, I received a devastating diagnosis: smoldering multiple myeloma, a terminal bone cancer. For decades, I had searched for purpose, but it had eluded me. While I’d potentially developed a sound legacy vehicle within the Food Industry, faced with this life-altering news, I decided to retreat from the world to regroup.
My research led me to a 20,000-acre ranch in Montana's Centennial Valley. This remote location offered a complete escape from modern distractions - no TV, internet, telephone, or urban noises. My only companions would be my loyal dog Rupert, a few ranch workers, and a herd of cattle.
Since childhood, I had dreamed of visiting Big Sky Country after marveling at a National Geographic article. Montana seemed the perfect setting to reconnect with nature, confront my illness, shed unnecessary burdens, and finally discover my purpose. Never before had I experienced such vast, open space. At this crucial juncture in my life, I was stepping into the awe-inspiring landscape I had only imagined as a child.
After a ten-day journey from Phoenix, I finally arrived at J Bar L Ranch, having been captivated by the ever-shifting scenery along the way. Eager to explore, Rupert and I bolted from the car, adventuring until twilight. That night, as I settled into bed, I finished the last chapter of "Thunder in The Mountains," unaware of the historical significance of my new surroundings.
I would later learn that my summer home sat on one of North America's most crucial migratory routes, a land once teeming with Nez Perce hunters and fishermen. The day's excitement and the ranch's rugged beauty had consumed my thoughts entirely - for the first time since my diagnosis, it hadn't crossed my mind at all.
Soon after settling in, I met the landowner, Peggy Dulany - a fourth-generation Rockefeller renowned for her landscape restoration efforts and philanthropic endeavors across America. Over lunch, our conversation meandered through various topics. As I grew more at ease, I opened up about my illness, my search for purpose, and the significance of my stay at her ranch.
I shared my background: after leaving the corporate world in Australia, I'd spent seven years exploring a potential venture in the food industry, aiming to combat childhood obesity and Type II diabetes. I was on the brink of seeking venture capital when my diagnosis derailed those plans.
Peggy seemed intrigued. Most guests, I learned, found the ranch's vast solitude overwhelming, rarely booking for more than a few days. Yet here I was, extending my stay to six weeks almost immediately upon arrival.
As my time at the ranch drew to a close, Peggy surprised me with an invitation to her annual retreat for a select group of philanthropists, set to begin the very next day. The eight-day gathering would culminate in a unique challenge: three days of isolation atop a snow-covered mountain in grizzly territory. Our provisions would be sparse - a bag of nuts, a chunk of cheese, water, honey, bear spray, a journal, and a shovel. It was an opportunity as daunting as it was extraordinary.
During the retreat, we delved deep into our psyches, confronting our most haunting thoughts and celebrating our finest moments. The experience equipped me with valuable techniques to address long-standing issues: the anger I'd harbored towards my narcissistic family and those who had abused me in childhood.
Since the 1990s, my travels to developing countries had left me feeling burdened by the world's injustices. Here, I learned strategies to process these experiences without being overwhelmed. I realized how these unresolved emotional obstacles had prevented me from achieving balance, finding inner peace, and nurturing better relationships with partners and friends.
This transformative journey helped me begin to shed the weight of past traumas and global concerns, opening a path towards a more balanced and fulfilling life.
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.
