Stoicism, Yoga and Selling Real Estate Without Losing Your Soul

“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.” – Marcus Aurelius

A dozen years ago my yoga teacher started calling me ‘Marcus Aurelius’. I’d roll my mat out early, then pepper him with questions about breath-work, ego, and why human beings insist on making life so complicated. The nickname felt apt because Stoic philosophy written two millennia ago still guide my day job (selling houses) and my full-time job of trying to be a decent human.

I’ve been in real estate since 1991, spent almost 20 years on the yoga mat and a lifetime wondering how much is ‘enough’. That single question now shapes how I lead my team, price my fees, and measure success in a culture that shouts more from any billboard with my “mug” on it.

A Career Launched by Good Advice and Re-shaped by Better Questions

I entered property in 1991 on my grandfather’s counsel, “People will always need a roof”. He was right, but he didn’t mention that roofs come attached to people – each carrying a story, a fear, and a dream. Real estate is only partly about square metres; mostly it’s about transition and trust.

Early in my career a manager insisted I read philosophy, not just property manuals. He planted the seed that technical skill is empty without reflective skill. And that seed sprouted into a weekly yoga class – a room of housewives where I was the lone bloke, trying not to topple in tree pose.

It felt awkward, but something powerful hooked me: breathing, noticing, stripping away comparison. Yoga, like Stoicism, is selfish in the most useful way: you go inward so you can return outward calmer, kinder, and harder to rattle.

More recently my family structure changed. I took twelve months off, surfed as much as I could, kept up with my yoga practice and learned (painfully and beautifully) to live by a new checklist:

• Enjoy it or change it.
• Do it my way – thoughtfully and transparently.
• Recognise the moment I have “enough”.

That last one keeps me honest when the industry’s louder voices preach limitless growth.

Consumerism, Hollywood and the Myth of “More”

Modern sales culture borrows heavily from an American script: bigger, faster, louder, and be #1 above everyone else. Hollywood sells the myth superbly, but like many empires built on excess, cracks are showing. When more becomes the only metric, integrity is the first casualty.

I prefer to work on the “value proposition” and reward “loyalty”.

Stoicism calls that temperance; Buddhism calls it right livelihood. Both reject greed masquerading as success.

Tall Poppies and the Power of Thank You

Australians have a complicated relationship with praise. World-war hardship and British understatement mutated into ‘Tall Poppy Syndrome’ as we’re quick to cut down anyone who stands out. Yet sincere gratitude is potent and rare.

There’s a reason yoga ends with a quiet bow of thanks. Gratitude is the ultimate performance-enhancer as it loosens the jaw, softens the shoulders, widens the lens.

In business that’s palpable. I’ll text or call a vendor after each inspection or a spotless open home: “Thanks for presenting so beautifully. The buyers noticed.” It costs nothing and harvests trust. When you pair praise with honesty about what needs improving, people lean in instead of bracing for criticism. After all, when I am engaged to sell a home for a client…we are entering an agreement to work as a team with a common goal.

Purpose: Linking the Mundane to the Meaningful

My belief is, entering buyer feedback isn’t data-entry drudgery; it powers price calibration, protects vendor equity and, indirectly, keeps someone’s kids in their chosen school zone. Purpose is a silver bullet – but only when leaders bother to connect the dots.

Authenticity Doesn’t Mean Abrasiveness

“Be authentic” is fashionable advice – and badly translated. Some hear it as licence for unfiltered opinion and callous candour. True authenticity is frank and respectful, transparent and considerate. Stoicism stands the same test: say what is true, but ask whether it is helpful, necessary, and kind.

Western Australia fares better than many markets here: fewer 10-metre headshots screaming “I’m #1,” more straight talk about pricing, time frames and risk. Clients don’t crave theatrics; they crave trusted advisers who know when to speak and when to listen.

Practising “Enough”

Yoga teaches us the Goldilocks zone: enough stretch without strain, enough breath without gasping. Translate that to work: enough clients to serve well, enough revenue to live well, enough ambition to keep learning but not consume your soul.

Money solves some problems and introduces others. A guy in my yoga class handles nine-figure portfolios. He battles stress I wouldn’t trade for his salary. Money magnifies character; it doesn’t substitute meaning.

Define your enough. Write it down. Protect it. Because the wider culture will keep moving the goalposts.

Choosing Which Cultural Software We Run

America’s consumer engine, exported for decades, looks tired: reality-TV politics, surveillance capitalism, fame confused with virtue. COVID, climate shocks, and divisive media reveal how hollow “American exceptionalism” sounds when the social fabric frays.

Part of living thoughtfully is choosing which cultural software we run. I prefer Marcus Aurelius and mindful breath to 24/7 hustle. That choice may cost me fast fame, but it wins deeper peace.

Practical Stoicism for Modern Professionals

• Define your “enough.” Guards against scope-creep and burnout. Micro-practice: set revenue and time targets; review quarterly.
• Invite public feedback. Catches faults early; models humility. Micro-practice: end each planning meeting with “What did we miss?”
• Reward initiative not titles. Unlocks hidden talent; prevents stagnation. Micro-practice: praise juniors who flag contract errors; bonus accordingly.
• Pair consensus with ownership. Stops groupthink becoming no-think. Micro-practice: agree together, assign one clear owner, diarise review.
• Practise daily gratitude. Lifts morale; tames the inner critic. Micro-practice: two sincere thank-yous (colleague and client) before noon.
• Breathe before speaking. Turns reaction into response. Micro-practice: five-second pause, then reply. Every phone call.

Leadership, Humility and the Quiet Power of I Was Wrong

We idolise leaders who radiate certainty, but my biggest credibility wins come after sentences like, “You were right; I wish I’d listened sooner.” When a principal owns a mistake publicly, the room exhales. It grants permission for everyone else to bring forward half-formed ideas, poke holes in plans, and learn collectively instead of privately.

Mistakes are inevitable; cover-ups are optional. We each get roughly 40 working hours (or more) a week to solve complex, shifting puzzles. No one sees every angle. Shared brains will always outperform lone genius – provided ego vacates the chair.

We talk of “human-centred design” in tech; why not human-centred commission structures, appraisal conversations, leadership pipelines? If you’re skilled, thoughtful and fairly rewarded, shouldn’t that suffice?

Empire builders answer “No.” Stoics answer “Yes.” I side with the ancients: commerce without conscience corrodes; profit with purpose endures.

Yoga, Stoicism and real estate sound like an odd trio, yet all pose the same question: Where is your attention? On external applause or internal alignment? On accumulation or contribution? On being loud or being useful?

I’m still learning. I still mess up. But most mornings I unroll my mat, swim in the ocean, have a coffee…then drive to a listing appointment and try again – slightly humbler, hopefully clearer, measuring success not by how loudly I proclaim I’m #1, but by how many people I help find home, inside and out.

Keep your thoughts pure, your words kind and genuine, your heart open.

Everything worthwhile follows.