Lessons From the Land of Fire and Ice

I recently spent six days hiking in Iceland. It’s a huge privilege to travel for pleasure, and this trip was extraordinary in ways I’m still absorbing.

I do not think of myself as an outdoors-y person, nor as a hiker. My time in Iceland took me out of my comfort zone in many ways. I returned home with new perspectives, new thinking, and greater levels of inspiration.

Here are ten lessons (of many) I took from that trip. Each of them translates to life and to leadership:

Doing hard things is empowering — and recovery matters. 

We climbed up and down big rocks, crossed rivers, and hiked on a glacier. I pushed myself hard, and meeting these challenges was empowering! AND, I soaked my tired muscles in magical Icelandic hot springs at the end of each day. That formula [work hard + recover fully] meant that day 6 of the hike felt no more difficult than day 1. Doing hard things over and over requires real, intentional recovery, and I’ve since gotten curious about where else in my life that formula might serve me. What about you?

 

Belief is powerful — as is a helping hand. 

My group traveled with experienced guides who didn’t coddle us. They believed in us, often more than we believed in ourselves. AND, they were there to help when needed, offering a hand on a slippery passage or pointing out the best footing. This is exactly how the best leaders operate. They see the potential in the people around them, believe in their capacity, and then create the conditions for them to rise to it.

 

Awe and wonder are compelling course correctors. 

It’s pretty hard to remain wrapped up in ego and separateness when staring up at a huge night sky filled with dancing northern lights. Awe is a complex and mysterious emotion. It has the power to effortlessly shift us out of the sped-up, disconnected, distracted way so many of us move through our lives. I’m committed to creating opportunities to experience awe closer to home. What might that look like for you?

 

Experience shared with others deepens meaning. 

I hiked with a small group, and it wasn’t always easy to spend extended time with strangers. Yet time and time again I found inspiration and meaning in witnessing ourselves rise to the occasion, laughing when we stumbled, and cheering each other on. Many of us are conditioned to go it alone, but being seen and seeing others deepens our experience and meets that core human need of connection and community.

 

Genuine enthusiasm is contagious, as is kindness and mutual respect.

Authenticity matters, and after a week together it was clear that our guides’ enthusiasm (for the landscape, the culture, and for each other) was genuine. And because of this, it was infectious. As leaders, it matters whether we are being genuine. It’s up to us to take responsibility for our own inspiration — if we find ourselves faking it we need to do what it takes to find a more genuine version.

 

When the stakes are high, the right tools become more important.

Basic hiking boots worked for a lot of what we did, but on the glacier we didn’t fool around. We wore helmets, harnesses and some pretty terrifying-looking ice cleats. I love the flexibility to “make it work” with whatever is on hand, but when the stakes are high, the right tools help. (In our professional lives, the “right tools” aren’t usually things. They are more often systems, frameworks — and even people.)

 

Focus and presence are easier with fewer distractions.

There are no billboards along the roads in Iceland. Nothing to distract from the landscape, nothing to try to ignore or filter out. Clearing out the visual clutter made it a lot easier to stay present and focused. This isn’t news to any of us, but it was another powerful reminder that systems are better than willpower when it comes to focus. No billboards is a great system, and we can create other systems to support our ability to focus and pay attention. (Turning off alerts, putting our phones away during meals, closing those 400 open tabs before diving into deep work.)

 

Art and creativity are essential for health. 

Icelanders are serious about their mental health, especially during the long dark days of winter. No matter their profession or training, they all make a practice of creating some kind of art. They knit, paint, write books, and make songs. This isn’t just to pass time; it’s seen as essential to health, no different from a daily commitment to exercise. What would it look like for you to make creativity a daily essential?

 

Humor makes hard things easier.

On the subject of weather, I was told, “Iceland has two seasons: winter, and disappointment.” I love this so much! I love being able to laugh at myself, at a challenging situation, at the weather, and at the absurdity of what life dishes out. When choosing between laughing and crying, I pick the first. Where might it serve you to lighten up, to let it be funny?

 

New growth can be tender and deserves protection.

A gorgeous pale green moss is draped over the lava fields and rocks of Iceland. It grows just a centimeter or two each year. This fragile growth is so precious to the ecosystem that it is protected by law. It’s a visible reminder that new growth can be tender, that it sometimes requires a lot of patience, and that it deserves protection. What new growth is occurring in your life? Are you honoring it, protecting it, and staying patient?

 

ACTION:

Which of these felt most resonant for you? Pick two and look for ways to implement these universal lessons this coming week.

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