When COVID started winding down, my best friend told me Iceland was open for tourism.
Tightly regulated, but open. It’s good to have that spontaneous friend who busts you out of your comfort zone and just says: LFG.
Crowds kill nature. Nothing ruins awe faster than Instagrammers posing with their arms in the air like they’re the spectacle, not the mountain or the waterfall. Shoot me. That’s why Iceland, wide open and uncrowded, felt like a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see something raw and real.
And as if the universe wanted to sweeten the deal, Fagradalsfjall—a volcano near Reykjavik—was erupting. Not apocalypse erupting. But alive, breathing, firing every 30 minutes or so.
Hiking Into Awe
We hiked up an adjacent mountain just to get close. Every half hour, the volcano would start slowly, oozing lava like someone tipped over a cauldron, then build until it was launching fire high into the sky. Chunks of rock that had been miles underground seconds earlier were now falling around us. You could hear them cooling, crackling into crystals. I picked one up — listened to it hiss, forming in my hand. Light as a feather. Born of fire. So amazing.
Public safety monitors hovered around, checking the air. Because here’s the thing about
volcanoes: they’re gorgeous, but they’re also trying to kill you. One wind shift and the gases flip from “exhilarating hot breeze” to “your lungs hate you.” Awe, danger, humility—all at once.
Definitely a mental highlight reel moment.
When the Wind Shifts
We watched eruption after eruption, each one unpredictable in its rhythm. And then one
reminded us—nature sets the terms, not us. During that blast, the wind suddenly changed. A second earlier, it was just thrilling heat. Then, hostile. Nobody waved us off, but our guts said: time to go.
That’s stress in a nutshell. You think you’re handling it—until the wind shifts and suddenly
you’re in over your head. No alarms, no monitors. Just that quiet internal voice telling you the balance is gone. The smart move is listening before you get burned.
The Creep of Fire
The danger passed, but the lesson wasn’t over. The hike down looked calm, almost too calm. Jagged black mounds of rock seemed solid, lifeless, inert. But up close, they glowed from the inside— ava runs between 1300–2200°F—alive, inching forward, crackling with hidden power.
Appearances deceive. On the outside, calm. On the inside, relentless energy, moving steadily forward. Don’t mistake how you look for how you’re really moving. Even if nobody sees it, the energy inside you can be formidable, inching you toward progress.
Stress as a Volcano
If you keep reading my blogs, you’ll see I tend to find lessons in nature. Sometimes it’s an old truth reinforced, sometimes something brand new. The volcano was no different—so here ya go: Stress is kind of like a volcano. Stay with me here:
- In bursts, it sharpens you.
- It pushes you to adapt, to act.
- Deadlines, workouts, the grind—that’s the fire shooting sky-high.
But camp there too long, and the same force that fueled you destroys you. Stress → cortisol → free radicals → inflammation → the diseases of aging we all fear.
Exciting becomes exhausting. Exhilarating becomes erosive. What feels like power eventually leaves scorched earth.
Don’t Build Beside the Eruption
Icelanders understand this. They don’t build houses next to active lava flows. They live with
volcanoes, not inside them. That’s balance. The grind? It’s basically pitching a tent next to an eruption and convincing yourself it’s fine. Sure, you’ll get heat, light, maybe a selfie. But stay long enough, and you’re toast.
Balance means using stress strategically—bursts of energy paired with recovery. Wins matched with resets. The rhythm of push and pull.
Connection Locks It In
Travel partners amplify awe because you relive it together later. Social connection isn’t just dinners and small talk. It’s sharing those holy f*** to oh f*** moments that burn into memory and become part of your story.
Awe as Reset
Nature’s the GOAT for resetting perspective. Up there, it was impossible to ignore the truth: everything we have is on loan. Careers, houses, plans—build them, enjoy them, but don’t mistake them for permanence.
That volcano had been erupting for millennia before me and will keep erupting long after. My part was simple: be there, feel it, and let it recalibrate what matters. I didn’t need photos to remember. I remember the heat on my face and the crackle of lava turning
to crystal in my hand. That memory is stronger than anything my camera could’ve captured.
Lessons from Nature (here come the metaphors)
Stress is the eruption — sharp, powerful, unpredictable. Balance is the lava field—slow, patient, formidable. You need both.
So grind if you want. Climb the mountain. Stand close enough to feel the fire. But know when the wind has shifted. Step back before it consumes you.
We toss around the word awesome like it’s a new latte flavor. But awe—real awe—is different. It’s the kind that shakes you, stays with you, rewires you a little. The kind that makes you say holy f**,* but not in passing. In truth.
That’s why I’ll keep chasing these Moments of Awe. They remind me what matters, and they reset everything else.
Burn bright. Not out.
Thrive on,
Brian
