08/31/2026
Thirty years ago, for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to follow what I wanted — a spark, so to say.
I remember seeing people in Stadtpark in 1995 simply being there. Present. Living in the moment. Comfortable in themselves and with each other. There was something about that which I wanted deeply, even though at the time I didn’t really know how to live that way myself.
People who know me know that my upbringing was difficult. For a long time, following what I wanted did not come naturally. But somehow, that spark was there anyway.
And now, thirty years later, I understand how important it was that I followed it.
Over three trips this year, I found myself reconnecting with people from different parts of my life — in some cases after thirty or even forty years. I revisited places that mattered. I had conversations I never thought I would have again. I laughed with old friends, made new memories, and allowed myself to simply be present for what was actually happening rather than trying to force it into a particular story.
At one point, following that spark literally meant running through an airport to catch an airplane.
And I’m very glad I ran.
Because what came from all of this was something much bigger than any single meeting or moment. It was the chance to understand my own life differently. To let old experiences become integrated and processed rather than unfinished. To realize that I was never as alone as I once thought I was.
There were people who cared deeply about me then.
There are people who care deeply about me now.
And there always were more of them than I understood.
Thirty years later, I can look back and say that I’m grateful I followed that first spark. Grateful that I eventually learned to trust what matters to me, to follow what feels aligned, and to stay present enough to see where life actually leads.
Sometimes it leads you across an ocean.
And for all of it, I’m deeply thankful.
Now I am here, standing on a bridge in Zürich by the Hauptbahnhof before sunrise, looking back over thirty years of your life and realizing that the things that once felt unfinished have finally found their place.
Integrated. Processed. Understood.
And standing here now, I know something I wish I could have told that younger version of myself in 1995:
You did okay.
You really did okay.
