For three decades, I lived and worked around the world as an entrepreneur, consultant, marketing and technology expert. Thirty years of building, searching, and connecting. It was more than work. It was a life filled with constant motion, discovery, and the friendships that came along.
Now I'm here, where I am
My personal turning point.
At some point I began to feel a quiet shift. Not a sudden break, but a growing sense that it was time for something else. Something truer to me. A new chapter that leaves behind the endless chase for what’s next and begins to ask what truly matters.
The Journey
The Covid pandemic ended my trading and consulting business. I started new projects and explored fresh ideas. But they didn’t bring the kind of success I had known before. After the pandemic my focus has changed towards family and I started to explore opportunities for new homes.
I also discovered new possibilities abroad. Then I set out on long journeys to explore and realize these ideas.
And yet, in the middle of these travels, I found myself once more creating, shaping, and feeling the excitement of building something fresh and scaling it even further than ever before.
The quiet shift
In this time, I started writing my first book, reflecting on ideas and opportunities around new AI technologies and how they could support businesses. I also resumed my consulting work, helping American and Asian companies establish themselves in Europe.
It all felt very exciting until I reached a point I couldn’t ignore. Something inside me woke up, cleared my vision, and felt deeply true. It showed me how I had been letting something slip away during that time of shifting businesses.
And then I stopped.
I stopped the wheel.
I chose to pause.
I chose to pause.
I decided to stop chasing. To let go of expectations and simply experience what was there.
After all those years of setting goals for myself, for the businesses, for everything.
After all those years of setting goals for myself, for the businesses, for everything.
My family was a big part of that time. I gave them more space than ever before. It opened something in me and made me see what had real meaning.
No more goals.
I immediately began to rethink my goals, seeing how little I had listened to my inner voice and how much I had ignored it.
I realized that goals in general were a big part of what kept me driven and restless, pushing me to work endlessly without pause.
Goals that seemed to matter more than anything else, because achieving them was seen as the universal currency of success and happiness.
Waking up.
But when the rules break down, there is emptiness at first. A kind of hangover after all those years of full speed. A pull to be busy again, to jump back into business and hustle.
If you can hold still, you move past that first pull. Underneath is a deeper emptiness. And it is even more unsettling.
In that state, you can’t enjoy the beauty of the world because you feel you no longer have a place in it. But then, slowly, you begin to turn back to yourself.
Empty questions.
Questions come up. Now what? The money. The routines. The alarm clock. Business relationships. Family. Kids. All kinds of different expectations. Wife. Parents.
All the responsibilities I have taken on in life are brought into question. All the noise I once controlled grows even louder when I let go. Because I have no control anymore. I am out. Being separated from nature can be painful. A hollow emptiness that crushes me. Is this midlife crisis? Yes, what else?
The return.
But then, slowly, the inner breath returns. A breath that holds me up. A breath that lets me see. A breath bigger than anything before. It lets the colors come back, because I let everything be as it is.
Finally no more goals.
I promised to myself: No more goals. No more expectations. No more performance. Just what is. And that is something I had to learn to hold.
Learning everything anew.
Learning to accept that not everyone’s opinions align.
Learning to respect that.
Learning to trust more.
To bind more deeply. To myself and to others.
Becoming more real, more honest and grateful, even when the inner conflict kept roaring.
I didn’t just see it as an opportunity, I saw it as a calling: to go deeper.
Learning to respect that.
Learning to trust more.
To bind more deeply. To myself and to others.
Becoming more real, more honest and grateful, even when the inner conflict kept roaring.
I didn’t just see it as an opportunity, I saw it as a calling: to go deeper.
To ask: What lies on the other side of performance culture? What remains when I hand over the key and stop hungering for a new one?
Finding first Words.
One day I told my wife, “I’m on vacation now.”
“Oh? And where are you going?”
“I don’t know how far it is to get to the deepest part of my soul.
I don’t know how long it will take.
And will I come back?
No. But I’ll take you with me.”
“Oof.”
“Oh? And where are you going?”
“I don’t know how far it is to get to the deepest part of my soul.
I don’t know how long it will take.
And will I come back?
No. But I’ll take you with me.”
“Oof.”
Point of No Return.
I realized: the moment to turn back is gone.
It may never come.
But that’s okay.
It may never come.
But that’s okay.
Continuing.
I’m exploring inner landscapes, layer by layer.
I’m capturing images with a real camera and writing down my thoughts, unfiltered.
I have no formal training as a writer or photographer. I don’t do paid photoshoots.
I’m capturing images with a real camera and writing down my thoughts, unfiltered.
I have no formal training as a writer or photographer. I don’t do paid photoshoots.
I am continuing to observe what’s there and what resonates.
And leading dialogues in presence and clarity.
And leading dialogues in presence and clarity.