By: Boss Monkey
Thinkin’ with both hands—on the one hand, then the other—is the only way to make sure you don’t end up swingin’ a hammer at your own foot.
It’s an old-school skill, like knowin’ how to trap a possum without endin’ up in a slap fight with a trash panda at 2AM. It’s rare. Almost extinct.
See, you can’t be fully convinced ‘til you’ve fully considered.
And that don’t come fast.
It comes slow… like fixin’ up a busted woven chair seat with a spoonful of patience and a dash of profanity.
Most folks these days grab the first idea that feels good and ride it like it’s gospel. But if you only think with one hand, you’re liable to miss the part that matters. You’ll build shallow. You’ll reap confusion. And you’ll end up duct-tapin’ your mistakes instead of fixin’ ‘em right.
Now me? I’ve learned to sit in it.
To stir the pot and taste it twice.
To pause long enough for both hands to speak their piece.
One hand says, “Do it now.”
The other hand says, “Make dang sure it’s worth doin’.”
One hand says, “That raccoon’s a menace.”
The other hand says, “Yeah, but he’s just tryin’ to eat.”
And if you’ve ever dealt with the little bandits, you’ll know raccoon trapping tips don’t just involve traps—they involve strategy, patience, and sometimes, marshmallows.
That kinda thinkin’?
It don’t show up when you’re scrollin’ Facebook or shoutin’ at the news.
It shows up when you’re sittin’ by the fire, flippin’ through DIY homesteading ideas in your granddaddy’s shed, tryin’ to figure out if you can build a chicken coop and fix the mower before sundown.
It’s slow thinkin’. Porch thinkin’. Firewood-dryin’, coffee-sippin’ thinkin’.
The kind that shows up when you’re starin’ at the best trail camera for wildlife and realizin’ that the mystery critter in your backyard is just your neighbor’s tabby cat wearin’ attitude and war paint.
When you think with both hands, you ain’t just weighin’ pros and cons.
You’re invitin’ complexity to sit a spell.
You’re sayin’, “The world ain’t just black and white—it’s got layers like onion soup and an uncle’s old opinions.”
And the folks who think this way?
They’re the ones who show up when the barn’s flooded, the attic’s full of squeaks, or your favorite chair’s cryin’ out for antique chair repair after Uncle Bo’s fifth plate of biscuits.
Monkey Ranch Moral:
I ain’t got all the answers.
Not even most of ‘em.
I’m just a guy with a cracked thermos, a barn full of regrets, and a deep appreciation for humane animal trapping that don’t involve stressin’ out every critter within a mile.
But if there’s one thing I know deep down in the dirt—it’s this:
If we all spent a little less time shoutin’ with one hand…
And a little more time listenin’ with both…
We’d fix more than we break.
We’d mend what matters.
And we just might figure out how to turn those reclaimed wood crafts into somethin’ more than kindling.
So if you’re gonna think…
Think it all the way to the dirt.
Both hands. Every time.