Discovering My Spiritual Practice: How I Survived Stage 4 Cancer
“Truth is a pathless land.” - Jiddu Krishnamurti
My journey to discover a spiritual practice (or life practice, as I now call it) has been tumultuous. Filled with false starts, grand illusions, and recurring moments of despair, I have committed and then quit so many times.
Something kept drawing me back.
Perhaps it was a need to discover meaning, experience peace, or finally learn to love and accept myself. Perhaps it was the loneliness, disappointment, and anxiety that permeated much of my life.
Or perhaps it was a growing awareness of some inexplicably mysterious force—a unifying principle or presence that creates everything and weaves our universe together.
Searching for Love
"Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know." - Pema Chödrön
I felt a connection to this mystery, along with an abiding peace, during moments of stillness in nature—gazing in awe at the starry sky or sitting alone in the mountains with the sun warming my body, still shivering after plunging into an alpine lake.
The glimpses were short-lived and infrequent, fading upon return to “normal” life within a society that valued, above all else, achievement, wealth, influence, and status.
My life had been dominated by seeking fulfillment in these delusions. Deep down, I just wanted to feel worthy, approved, and accepted. I wanted to feel remarkable.
I drove an SUV to Argentina, climbed glaciated peaks, launched multiple companies, and worked tirelessly to maintain an athletic appearance. I bounced from relationship to relationship, confused why I never felt peace.
The transient admiration and sense of belonging I felt from my achievements never lasted. My life was urgent and neurotic. I sought ever more exciting experiences and had to push my limits further and further. In the quiet moments in between, boredom haunted me.
I leaned into opiates, nicotine, and alcohol to fill the void.
The Final Wake Up Call
“The body is the last messenger of the soul” - unknown
I transitioned into my thirties, living fast and hard.
There were plenty of signs that my body was struggling, flashing red lights begging me to notice the growing toll of stress, inadequate rest, excessive training, substance abuse, and unresolved trauma. I didn’t listen.
Cancer crashed into my life in the form of a 7-inch tumor resting on my heart and lungs and wrapped around my esophagus. I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t swallow solids. I was emaciated. My resting heart rate was 120 beats per minute.
When I saw the x-ray—an enormous shadow loomed in the center of my chest where there should have been light—a deep sense of grief and suffering , unlike anything I had ever experienced, arose in me. I faced the collapse of everything I thought I knew about myself, including my body.
To ignore this would have been fatal.
This time, my body refused to let me carry on, demanding that I finally listen.
Long Before the Diagnosis…
My spiritual journey began in my 20s, shortly after graduating from college. Despite an outwardly successful and adventurous life, I wrestled with a profound sense of loneliness and disconnection.
Seeking answers, I initially turned to Western philosophy. The works I read were intellectually compelling but felt rigid and detached from the emotional and spiritual depth I craved. They offered beautiful theories, but none truly resonated with my lived experience.
While living in Italy, my brother and I hosted a couch surfer—an Indian climber on a sponsored tour of Europe. We shared conversations about spiritual seeking, and he recommended I look into the teachings of Jiddu Krishnamurti.
A few months later, I boarded a one-way flight to India. I spent several months at an Ashram, immersing myself in the teachings of Eastern philosophers and teachers. Carrying my tent, ukulele, and a backpack weighed down with philosophy books, I roamed across India, searching for meaning.
Sixteen months later, however, I felt more isolated than ever. Disillusioned and exhausted, I abandoned the books and returned home, resigning myself once again to the expectations and distractions of typical American life.
Returning Through Darkness
"The moment you accept what troubles you’ve been given, the door will open." - Eckhart Tolle
Ten years later, cancer shattered my life. The terror and confusion were overwhelming, and in my desperation, I turned back to the spiritual teachings I had abandoned years before.
I sank into a dark depression, convinced I would die within the year. My only solace was the thought that I could find peace in the warm embrace of an opiate haze.
My wife, Tash, never gave up hope. She continued to support me, gently encouraging me to explore alternative treatments. I had given up on my own life but couldn’t let go of the joyful vision of trekking with Tasha in the Himalayas—holding hands, crying with happiness as we gazed upon a towering ridge of rock and ice against a backdrop of blue sky and white light.
At that moment, I chose to place my faith in the mystery—the possibility of Tash and I trekking in the Himalayas, embracing something innately unknowable. My spiritual practice, combined with Tasha’s love and generous spirit, provided the foundation for this newfound faith.
Moving Into Mystery
“If you realize that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to." - Lao Tzu
I had always dismissed alternative medicine as hippy-dippy snake oil. But as my practice deepened and I became aware of the vastness of my blind spots and misunderstandings of life, a new perspective emerged.
I delved into the world of holistic and alternative healing and discovered that much of it is simply common sense for healthy living. I adopted a whole food plant-based diet, prioritized 7-9 hours of sleep each night, spent more time in nature, learned when to rest, reduced sources of stress and conflict, and created space and time to focus on healing.
Other aspects of the path felt at odds with my science-oriented upbringing. Supplements, energy healing, acupuncture, meditation, and deep emotional work didn’t seem related to my cancer.
But I stopped questioning and decided to try everything, releasing the need to verify their efficacy beyond my own direct experience.
Healing as a Practice
"When we get sick, we can see it as a gift because our illness has brought us back to ourselves, to our body, and to the path of healing." - Thich Nhat Hanh:
I began to notice changes, not just in my physical condition but also emotionally and mentally. As the cancer began to retreat, a new sense of peace and optimism began to take root. My faith in the practice deepened.
Over time, I saw that spirituality and healing were inseparable. The line between my meditation and mindfulness practices, the supplements I took each night, my vitamin infusions, and my therapy sessions blurred. They were all part of the same process, driven by the same energy.
Buddhist teachings provided the tools for self-inquiry and guided me to develop my own wisdom through direct experience. I learned to approach my health with curiosity, questioning long-held beliefs and remaining open to what could be known while also accepting what would remain unknowable.
I applied these principles to my healing. I let go of rigid expectations and began to experiment with treatments that didn’t always make logical sense. Some of these protocols worked, while others did not. The key was learning to trust my body—to listen deeply and allow my intuition to guide me.
I came to understand that my body, in all its profound mystery and complexity, communicates what it needs through intuition. All I needed to do was slow down, tune in, and truly listen.
Life as a Practice
“Enlightenment is ego’s ultimate disappointment.” -Chögyam Trungpa
There’s nothing glamorous about this path. It unfolds quietly during the ordinary moments of day-to-day life. “Awakening,” as it turns out, isn’t dramatic or mystical at all. It doesn’t happen once and then end. Instead, it’s the ordinary process of learning to remember who we are, where we are, and how to respond to life.
It occurs through every experience, not just the peaceful moments on the meditation cushion. Washing dishes, navigating traffic, sending work emails, comforting a friend in need, struggling with illness, grieving a deceased loved one, or caring for an aging parent—these are all part of it.
Part of me was disappointed. I had hoped spirituality would provide an escape from my problems. My ego, enamored with the idea of mystical revelations, was also disappointed. Spirituality wouldn’t satisfy its lingering desire for admiration and approval.
And so, I continued to settle into the mundanity of the practice—messy, imperfect, and unremarkable as it was.
How to Start
“You are perfect just as you are, and you could use a little improvement.” - Shunryu Suzuki
Embrace the questions you already carry—about yourself, your life, your faith, and what it means to live meaningfully. Inquiry is a natural and essential starting point.
This journey is highly individual, and no two paths look alike. It’s not about finding definitive answers or achieving perpetual joy. Instead, it’s about engaging with profound questions and observing how this exploration fosters a deeper understanding of truth.
Start wherever you are, with whatever feels accessible. Just 10 or 20 minutes a day can make a difference. Consider reading a book, listening to talks, visiting a spiritual center, meditating, praying, or talking with a wise friend.
Rest in “not knowing.” This openness creates space for genuine discovery, allowing your practice to take shape.
