Iceland had me under its spell. The raw, untamed beauty of nature. People who seem distant at first glance, only to surprise you with heartfelt warmth.
We were driving along a country road toward Akureyri when my partner began to tell me a story. She knows the island and its people well – two semesters at the University of Reykjavik, three summers on a farm in the north. Friendships that have lasted.
Farmer Einar had lived on his parents’ farm since childhood – to him, it wasn’t just a place, it was home. When he took over the dairy farm from his father, a dream came true. Working with animals and nature – there was nothing else he could imagine doing.
It was winter when a snowstorm rolled in. Nothing unusual in Iceland. As the wind picked up, Einar threw on a jacket and walked the short distance – barely 100 meters – to the barn. He just wanted to quickly check on the animals.
Within minutes, the storm became merciless – whiteout! He closed the barn door behind him and headed back toward the house. Just as he had done countless times before. But he never made it.
The story gave me chills. It unsettled me – and stayed with me.
Not long ago, a manager told me his company was undergoing a brutal phase of transformation. He said he loved his job, that his team meant a great deal to him, and that he knew every square inch of his department, figuratively speaking. And yet, he felt like he was caught in a whiteout – disoriented and unsure.
The story of Farmer Einar came flooding back to me . In a world full of ambiguity, complexity and rapid change, the ability to endure uncertainty and paradox has become a key leadership skill. It’s no longer about having all the answers – but about holding space for the unanswered. Where external clarity fails, inner clarity must take its place.
Warm regards,
Ralph Hubacher
