Volume I — Where the Map Begins
The journey opens inside an infant’s misty horizon—first in the United States, where life is new and bewildering, and then in Norway’s rugged beauty, which etches itself into my inner atlas. From there the story settles in Denmark, where a young gaze opens toward the world: fumbling, curious, brimming with life. The adventures and discoveries of childhood slide into youth’s explosion of dreams, experiments, and first understandings. Adulthood steps in—first a distant silhouette, then a lived reality of home and family, responsibility and deep bonds.
But the road doesn’t end there. As a grown man I throw my skills and experience back into play, trying to find foothold in a world that keeps shifting. With equal parts courage and the whims of fate, the path leads to new assignments and wider horizons—first to Holland’s creative, international crucible, then to Angola’s dramatic landscapes where the last tremors of civil war still shake the ground and every decision can prove decisive. In that borderland between reason and chaos, a life story unfolds in which the human and the unpredictable dance side by side.
Prologue
Who am I, really—and who are you? Is our deepest purpose to understand how we function—both in community and as singular beings—or is meaning simply to exist as biological creatures, adding our spark to the endless cycle of matter and energy, and let others wrestle with the philosophy?
I am Homo ludens—a playful human. I love crooked, funny, off-beat ideas. Creativity is my engine, imagination my constant companion. I live to make things and to find new angles. I am also shy and have never cared much for standing before large crowds—yet, paradoxically, I can at times perform with bright confidence, and even do it well. That contradiction has marked my life: the mind’s eternal duality.
Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention describes paradoxes common to creative people—energy that can look calm, intelligence paired with naiveté, playfulness with discipline, fantasy with hard realism, extroversion with introversion, humility with pride, rebellion with tradition, consuming passion with the ability to stand outside one’s work, and an openness so sensitive it hurts—and yet brings deep joy. I know exactly what he means. I live inside these opposites. I remember childhood in razor detail but often forget yesterday. I was painfully shy with girls—until I wasn’t. At times I’ve been fearless, throwing myself into breathless adventures.
Perhaps I had ADHD as a child; a lifelong self-medication with alcohol has—rightly or wrongly—let me sit still for hours and dive deep. I was tested often as a boy; later, as an adult, I wanted to know where I stood. Facing an intelligence test takes a certain courage. I did it—and it led to a great deal: Mensa, ISPE, and more within the often invisible world of intelligence. Not a popular topic, perhaps, but pivotal for me; it brought clarity about where I stand among others.
I have always been intent on my own development. My mind at times resembled my father’s, my grandfather’s—and a touch of my maternal grandfather’s—each struggling with themselves. To steer and grow a mind, I had to find the core of who I truly was. My mother tried to help, often urging me to temper my temper. I saw the world differently than most. My peers rarely understood my ideas; I sought friends much younger or much older, where I could shape the situation—or skip the argument.
As a child I was full of questions about the future: “What will school be like?” “What happens in seventh grade?” “Where will I be in ten years?” “Will I have a wife and children?” “When will I die?” I used the bad behavior of some elders as a reverse compass—examples of who not to become. At the same time I searched for my own ground state, my own footing, free of other people’s ideas about what I should think or believe.
I’ve been extraordinarily lucky. Life handed me a surplus of meaningful moments, strange coincidences, and the full roll of ups and downs. When excitement didn’t arrive on its own, I conjured it—with a vivid imagination and an unbroken hunger to understand and to experience. Along the way I learned languages and made art in many forms—visual, musical, architectural, and written. I have worn out the world’s runways—flying the equivalent of thirty-seven times around the globe, with the CO₂ to match, alas. I have held three citizenships, including Danish and American passports and a diplomatic one. My travels opened the door to the Los Angeles Adventurers Club, where I now share company with remarkable people—membership I wear with pride.
Most incredible—and what I’m most grateful for—I managed to build a family. My wife, Bente, and I have been married nearly forty-five years; she means everything to me. We raised four wonderful children who have since flown the nest to start families of their own. We have five grandchildren so far; I hope for more. Life is good.
And still the great questions remain. Have I learned who I truly am? How do I fit into the larger scheme? I set out to know myself, and to a degree I’ve reached that aim. But the journey is not over. I keep evolving—still curious, still playful, still learning. May it continue that way, right up to the final page.
Volume I invites you to step onto that road with me—into mist and sunlight, from fjords to family tables, from workshop to war-scarred horizons—where each contradiction becomes a compass and every mile writes a line of the story.