About me
I don't teach what I studied. I teach what I survived and transformed.
— My story
The beginning
That was one of the first sentences my body learned. Not from a book. Not from a theory. But from my mother's mouth when I was small and didn't yet know that sentences can leave a mark like scars.
It took me a long time to understand that this wasn't the truth about me. Only the truth about the pain she carried.
I was a strange child. I meditated at eight. I read while others played. I lived more in fantasy worlds than in the real one. A psychologist wanted to teach me autogenic training—I was already better at it than he was. That didn't make me proud at the time. It made me more isolated.
I have to perform in order to be worth something…
This sentence has sustained me through decades. Through early fatherhood, for which I was unprepared. Through the failure of my self-employment and personal bankruptcy. Through the breakup of what I called family. And in 2012, through the death of my youngest son.
After that, I withdrew even further into myself. And I kept getting back up. Not because I was strong—but because I didn't give up.
2017
The turn
I was someone who never went to a sauna. Who didn't want to see naked people—and certainly not myself. Yoga people were freaks to me. Bodywork was something for other people.
And then I was lying on a table, and someone touched me. Really touched me.
In two and a half hours I experienced more tenderness and intimacy than in my entire life before combined.
I don't cry easily. But I did cry that day. Not out of sadness.
This is what arriving feels like.
After that, I questioned everything. My job at the bank. My path. What I actually want from life.
2020
The way
In 2020 I began my own tantric massage training. I received my certificate in 2021. Then... Sexological Bodywork diploma in Zurich. Playfighting. Tango. Ecstatic Dance. ISTA — the International School of Temple Arts. Shadow work. Archetypes. Shamanism.
And somewhere in all of this: myself.
I started giving workshops in 2023. My whole life I'd been afraid of standing in front of groups. I even trembled before small staff meetings.
In teaching, I found something I hadn't expected: Self-forgiveness. I was able to share what I was passionate about. And people saw it—not as a concept, but as an experience.
I am under the term of wounded healer I've settled in. I pass on what I've experienced myself. I'm incredibly bad at conveying theoretical knowledge. My passion lives in my heart—and what I teach originates there.
I try to explain it in a language people understand. Very vividly. Outside the esoteric bubble. Everything I share—about bodywork, touch, inner aspects, spirituality—I translate into everyday images so that it has a real connection to reality and can be integrated into real life.
2024
Today
With ISTA, my inner freedom took a significant leap forward. I opened a cage in which I had locked myself—even though I thought I was already very far along my path. Perhaps I am. And perhaps I'm too self-critical to see that clearly.
I will continue on the ISTA path. This is my story — and it's not over yet.
I am not someone who proselytizes. My way is to inspire people—to find their own spirituality, whatever that may look like.
Whatever your belief system is, it's not my place to interfere. I teach a The path of tantric massage — not the My participants take what they like and leave the rest behind. I also explicitly encourage them to try other providers, seminars, workshops, and festivals. Breadth comes from diversity.
Since 2024, I have been passing on this training in my own way — free from the association's framework, according to my principles, in my own language.