Beyond the Stars
A Life's Journey
At the end of my school years, my path seemed clear: I would become an astronaut. My letter to Wernher von Braun at NASA resonated, and his recommendation was straightforward: join the Air Force, become a test pilot, then contact him again. I proudly collected portrait postcards with original signatures from all the astronauts, and the German military was delighted by my interest in becoming a career soldier.
Then, at 17, everything changed when I read two books by Italian journalist and author Oriana Fallaci. First "When the Sun Dies", original title “Se il sole muore” and then "We, Angels and Beasts", original title “Niente e così sia”). Her second book, about the Vietnam War, took me a long time to finish—I was deeply shaken by the suffering it portrayed. This deep impression couldn't remain without consequences. I wanted no part in that madness.
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A good book can change your life.
With a heavy heart, I refused military service.
The dream was over. Farewell, outer space.
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​Every end is just a new beginning. So, I trained as an electronics technician and later studied physics, naively believing I could truly understand something from the ground up. The studies turned out to be a relentless chase for academic credits—not what I had envisioned.
I later studied computer science and mathematics. My professional life began at Hewlett Packard, overall a wonderful experience. Drawn to the exotic, I became a specialist in artificial intelligence, a passion that would last my entire life.
As Germany transformed into a Cold War arsenal and seemed to surrender its soul to geopolitical forces, I set sail for New Zealand. There, alongside visionary colleagues, I birthed a software venture between DEC and Ernst & Young. The land offered breathtaking beauty, its people genuine warmth—yet home eluded me. The truth revealed itself slowly: I couldn't find home in any geography because I hadn't yet discovered it within myself.
Words became my companions. Poetry flowed from my pen. English wrapped around my thoughts with increasing comfort. Then, like a character unable to escape his narrative arc, I returned to familiar shores—Germany, Compaq Computers EMEA, quality management. For the third time, passion and profession aligned. Success followed, life's puzzle pieces clicking into place—until the corporate world's machinery began to grind against my spirit. I witnessed the slow erosion of souls around me: burnout's hollow eyes, alcohol's false comfort, marriages splintering, isolation deepening.
The hunger for transformation led me through doorways of psychotherapy, body therapy, and coaching. Seven years of learning reshaped my understanding of human potential. My wife and I clasped hands and leapt together from corporate certainty into the unknown territory of self-employment. We stepped outside conventions into work centered on human flourishing. I crafted a leadership development program and carried it into executive circles and training centers across continents.
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My mission became: To successfully facilitate human development and integration.
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Years of intense coaching and teaching exacted their price. Burnout crept in with silent persistence, darkening the world around me shade by shade. In those shadow-filled years, my writing turned as black as ink, pages filled with material too raw for any audience. Yet the act of writing—of transforming internal darkness into external form—became my salvation. I emerged from those depths to find the world transformed by three converging storms: climate change, biotechnology, and artificial intelligence.
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Three pivotal developments—climate change, biotechnology, and AI—inspired the concept for my novel, ‘The G.O.D. Machine,’ which I devoted five years to writing. Through this journey, I found inner fulfillment. Writing unexpectedly gifted me with resilience, a steadfast commitment to creativity, and profound satisfaction with each page I crafted.
I continue to teach Self / Life Leadership, Leading Others, Leading Organizations, and Embracing the Emerging Future. While few can sustain themselves solely through writing—and I am no exception—my seminars allow me to inspire both current and future generations. I empower many attendees by opening their eyes, instilling hope, courage, and a sense of freedom, which is deeply fulfilling. I hope that my writing will have the same power and impact.
What good would writing be if not for the people, if not for hope, despite all adverse circumstances?
