The Warrior and the Monk

As I often do, I was running on the canal the other day.

I had planned to run fairly slowly because I’ve been dealing with some soreness in my knee. Nothing heroic. Nothing fast. Just one of those mature, responsible, adult runs where you listen to your body and make good long-term decisions.

So naturally, that lasted about halfway, until some guy passed me.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t bump me. He probably didn’t even notice me. But in my mind, and I fully admit this did not actually happen, he looked back, smirked, and kept going.

At first, I told myself what any reasonable person would say - “Relax. You’re taking it easy. Your knee hurts. This guy has nothing to do with you. Let him go.”

That was quickly followed by - “Yeah, but who does this guy think he is? He clearly sped up just to pass me. He probably thinks he’s faster than me. I could dust this guy.”

Followed by a more reasonable voice - “Don’t be dumb. This doesn’t matter. Stick to what you set out to do.”

So what did I do?

Of course, I dropped the hammer, passed him back, and kept pushing until I got back to my house feeling an interesting mix of pride and embarrassment.

Very mature. Very peaceful. The knee loved it.

But it did get me thinking about a sort of modern version of the angel and devil on the shoulder. I don’t really think of it in those terms. For me, it feels more like the warrior and the monk.

The warrior wants to win. He wants to push, fight, improve, compete, close the deal, make the extra call, negotiate the last point, and prove there’s more in the tank. The warrior is useful. Without him, not much gets built. He is the reason we train when we don’t feel like it, make the uncomfortable phone call, ask for the business, and keep going after getting told no.

The warrior is not the problem.

The problem is when the warrior grabs the steering wheel all the time.

That version of the warrior turns everything into a contest. A casual run becomes a race. A disagreement becomes a battle. A negotiation becomes a personal test of strength. A business goal becomes a scoreboard that never stops updating.

That gets tiring. Worse, it can make you do stupid things.

The monk has a different job.

The monk says, slow down. Pay attention. You do not have to win every exchange. You do not have to respond to every slight, real or imagined. You do not have to prove your value today by running faster than a stranger on the canal who was probably just trying to get home.

The monk reminds you what actually matters.

Health. Family. Integrity. Peace. Long-term direction. The ability to enjoy the thing you worked so hard to build.

The monk is also useful. Very useful.

But the monk has his own downside. Taken too far, the monk can become passive. He can dress up fear as contentment. He can say, “Everything is fine,” when the truth is you need to make a decision, have a hard conversation, or get moving.

That is where the balance matters.

The goal is not to kill the warrior. I don’t want to live with no ambition, no edge, no drive, and no desire to get better. That sounds less like wisdom and more like a very comfortable rut.

The goal is also not to silence the monk. If the warrior is the only voice you listen to, you end up chasing things that don’t matter, winning arguments you should have let go, and measuring your life against people who were never even racing you.

The better answer is to let both voices have a seat at the table.

Let the warrior set the standard. Let him push you to prepare, compete, improve, and do the work other people avoid.

Let the monk set the context. Let him remind you which races are worth running, which fights are worth having, and which wins actually mean something.

I think this shows up in business all the time.

The warrior wants the listing. The warrior wants the deal. The warrior wants to win the negotiation and protect the client. You need that. In brokerage, passive does not usually get rewarded. The best opportunities often go to the people who are willing to make the call, ask the hard question, and stay with a deal when it gets messy.

But the monk matters just as much.

The monk says not every deal is worth your reputation. Not every client is worth the headache. Not every point in a purchase agreement needs to become World War III. Not every delay is a disaster. Sometimes the best move is patience. Sometimes the best answer is no. Sometimes the thing you are trying to force is telling you something.

Most of us probably swing too far one way or the other depending on the season.

There are times when I probably need more monk. I can turn small things into contests. Apparently, that includes imaginary disrespect from recreational joggers.

There are also times when I need more warrior. It is easy to call something “contentment” when it is really just comfort. It is easy to tell yourself you are being patient when you are actually avoiding the next hard step.

The sweet spot is disciplined ambition.

Push hard, but know why you are pushing. Compete, but don’t make everything personal. Build, grow, improve, and chase the next thing, but keep the real things in your primary field of vision.

That is the version I’m aiming for.

Some days I get it right.

Some days I chase down a random guy on the canal and then spend the rest of the morning pretending my knee does not hurt.

I’m still not sure whether warrior and monk is the perfect analogy, but it’s the best one I’ve found so far. If you’ve got a better one, I’d genuinely like to hear it.

Ramey Peru

Senior Vice President | Land

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