Once, many years ago, he described me as a bit “ängslig” as a person. In English, maybe something close to anxious or worried. And perhaps he was right.

That is one reason why I was so curious about this conversation. I had always looked at Jonas almost as the opposite of me: calm in the storm, grounded, self-confident. But where did that come from? Had he always been like that?

As a child, Jonas struggled with both dyslexia and dyscalculia. Dyslexia is much better understood today, but dyscalculia still remains surprisingly unknown - even among many math teachers. It affects the ability to understand numbers and mathematical concepts, and it has nothing to do with intelligence. Yet many children go through school feeling stupid, broken, or lazy, simply because no one around them has the tools to recognize what is actually going on. At this very moment, many children are fighting this battle - and even being bullied, sometimes by teachers who simply don’t know better. We need to raise awareness of dyscalculia.

What struck me most in this conversation is how Jonas gradually transformed those difficulties into strengths that later came to define him. And that is only the beginning of his story.

We both left Ericsson in 2023. Some time ago, when we met for coffee, I asked him if he missed work. His answer surprised me:

“Heraldo, I don’t miss work at all. I worked hard my whole life. If I had to work today just to fill my time, I think I would like to be a dishwasher. Just having water on my hands and not needing to think.”

I did not expect that answer from someone I had always seen as so strong and composed. So during the conversation I asked him why.

What he said next was not what I had imagined.

Because even when you appear strong, calm, and self-confident, it does not necessarily come naturally. Sometimes it is something you build consciously, every single day.

I think you will love this conversation.

I often think back to my first years in Sweden. I had just arrived, deeply in love, and at the same time struggling to find a job and make ends meet. My wife Annika was working with Mia, helping to build a series of furniture stores across the country. I would follow along whenever I could, travelling to new cities and assembling furniture for the exhibition rooms. It also became a way for me to integrate and socialize, in a work environment, with people in a new country.

There was trust from the very beginning. And beyond that, it became an experience I still carry with me from a time that was otherwise uncertain.

That generosity has always been part of who you are. Socially, it shows in the same way. Warm, present, full of stories, a great sense of humor, and genuinely engaged in every conversation.

It was fascinating to hear more about your career, Mia. I knew parts of it, but not the full picture. You held several key roles in the creative area at IKEA, shaping how the brand came to life for millions of people around the world. Among many things, you were the creative responsible for the IKEA Catalogue, at the time the largest publication on the planet. Bigger than the Bible.

I still remember the mailboxes in Sweden:“Please no commercials, but welcome to the IKEA Catalogue.”

Like me, Mia retired a few years ago. But while I stepped into the Second Half with ease, hers began in a very different way. Just as she was leaving IKEA, she was diagnosed with cancer.

A difficult beginning. But the good news is that this chapter is now behind her.

It was also striking how much we have in common. We both come from big families. Mine from the start. Yours suddenly, when you and your sister moved into a home with five other siblings.

Before our conversation, I knew that Strong and Independent defined your first half. But I was curious about the Second Half.

And during our hour together, it became clear. Reflecting.

Not as a pause. But as a way of understanding. Of choosing more consciously what matters, and what does not.

It was from Henrik that I first heard the expression “Young at Heart.” Something he captures so well in the way he lives.

But if being “Young at Heart” were not enough, Henrik inspires us with something even deeper. Let me explain.

In The Moon and Sixpence by Somerset Maugham - one of my favorite novels, inspired by the life of the painter Gauguin - the narrator meets a man - Captain Brunot - who has bought a barren island in the Pacific.

Together with his wife, he slowly transforms it into a garden. They build a house, plant trees, raise their children there, and even have a piano shipped from France so the children can learn music.

At one point the narrator reflects something beautiful:

“I have often thought since that he was the only happy man I have ever known.He had made his life a work of art. He was an artist in life.”

Although I read this book long ago, this short passage has stayed vividly in my mind. All of a sudden the message of the whole book, as I remember it, was not about the later famous Gauguin, but about the contrast with this man - Captain Brunot - who lived life as if it were art itself.

Henrik reminds me of that.

Today he is helping transform an island in the Philippines into a paradise through connectivity, energy solutions, and innovative business models.

The way Henrik lives his life - and uses his time - is an inspiration.

During the interview I also learned about difficult moments in his life, including the loss of his son at the age of two. Seeing Henrik today as such a joyful person, I would never have imagined the depth of sorrow he has carried.

We both loved this conversation. I am sure you will too.

It is shared here in its full, uncut version - because it is worth taking the time to connect the dots of a life well lived, and the hurdles we all may encounter along the way.

Thank you, Henrik, for being who you are - young at heart and making life itself a work of art.

Enjoy our conversation.