Two Skills for Today and Tomorrow: Modern Mastery, Apocalyptic Grit

My recent book readings have been steeped in end-of-the-world tales, painting vivid pictures of what might come. Naturally, I’ve been mulling over what that means for me, my neighbors, and our way of life. Even the rosiest forecasts agree: turmoil—whether sparked by human error or nature’s wrath—will test us, pushing us to lean on “primitive” skills and trades. Technology and its resources may falter, but we’ll always need shelter, food, and tools to build them as best we can. It’s with this in mind that I propose a bold idea—one that could transform our society now and steel us for any apocalyptic tomorrow.

What if we all mastered two skills? One for today’s world—say, financial modeling or coding. The other, something physical, more body than brain—like me culturing yogurt strains to keep food alive, or maybe chopping veggies as a prep chef to clear my head. A CFO forging tools. A coder carving tables. Not hobbies, but equal halves of who we are. I’m not saying we ditch tech or build bunkers. I’m saying we can thrive—now, in our AI-flooded chaos, and later, if the world shifts—by balancing modern mastery with hands-on grit.

Why? Modern life’s overwhelming. AI spits out answers before we blink; information swamps us, leaving us lost. I coach leaders who feel outrun, their skills slipping as tech surges. Yet our human needs—food, shelter, connection—never change. Being only a digital pro makes us brittle, not just for apocalypses but for today’s noise. Life’s harder to manage when you’re a screen-bound cog, not a maker with calluses. A physical skill—like my yogurt jars fizzing, my garden’s quiet lessons, or bottling grape juice—anchors you. It’s real, timeless, chosen because it sings to you.

Picture your workweek: 70% on your modern skill, keeping you sharp. The other 30% on a physical trade that calls your name, backed by your employer. Maybe you’re a data analyst, analyzing breeds of animals. Or a lawyer weaving baskets, feeling the rhythm. It’s not about slowing down—it’s about owning your life. In those novels, survivors rebuild with their bodies—chopping, building, growing. They’re whole. We could be, too, even as tech races on.

Here’s how. Companies ditch “hustle harder” for “grow broader.” They fund 15 hours a week for you to chase a trade that fits—yogurt for me, carpentry for you, maybe prep-cheffing for someone who loves a kitchen’s hum. Every few years, a month-long sabbatical to dive in. A programmer might try leatherwork, crafting belts and bolder apps. A marketer growing herbs could pitch with a gardener’s instinct. My yogurt tinkering teaches me patience I bring to coaching. Your trade’s up to you—whatever feels alive.

This is personal. Burnout’s brutal—$1 trillion globally, says the World Health Organization. Digital overload leaves us frayed. A physical skill grounds you, whether it’s forging or slicing onions, letting your mind wander while your hands work. It’s yours, picked for your spark. Businesses win, too—a 2023 McKinsey study says diverse skills lift innovation 20%. That CFO-forger might budget with a smith’s focus. That coder-carpenter could code as sturdy as their tables. Synergies emerge—your personality shapes pairings, like a meticulous auditor finding flow in pottery. I’ve coached leaders whose physical side gigs, like tending to their fruit trees, unlock their best ideas.

Society’s stronger. If half of us can preserve food or build chairs, we’re not stuck when systems falter—think 2020’s empty shelves. Coders who garden keep us fed. Physical trades connect us, too. My neighbor’s a lawyer, but if we’re swapping yogurt tips, we’re a tribe. In those books, heroes rebuild together. We’d be ready.

Pushback? “No time!” So make it cultural—schools teach coding and crafts. Employers fund mentors, like wellness perks. Tax breaks for trade hours, like R&D credits. “Productivity sinks”? Nope. Your 70% modern time sharpens when you’re not lost in feeds—you’re grounded. Sabbaticals spark ideas. Leonardo’s anatomy sketches lifted his art. Magic pairings—your analytical mind meeting a chef’s knife—create breakthroughs.

This isn’t nostalgia—it’s balance. A one-skill world cracks under tech or chaos. A dual-skilled one thrives. For me, yogurt’s my primal pulse—gardening and grape juice, too—but yogurt’s where I’m digging in. What calls you? A kitchen, a forge, a loom? Leaders, would you back your team to find their trade? I love to have these types of conversations with our business coaching team because it’s part of Royal Council’s DNA to obsess about ideas that could help teams thrive, not just survive. Share your thoughts—I’m listening.