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The Middle Man Problem

Kateryna Derkach

Do you find the system you live in a bit confusing sometimes? Do you wonder why there is so much polarization in this world? Do you consciously understand why we are unable to make our global system coherent at this moment in history? Why so many suffer, and why no one seems powerful enough to create meaningful change on a macro scale?

 

The idea of contemplating such 'philosophical' questions is not without purpose. The purpose of asking yourself deeper questions is to become wiser. Wisdom gives power. Power provides freedom. Freedom ensures systemic coherence and well-being for all of us.

 

Meaningfully understanding the interconnections and interdependencies within our reality teaches us how to develop discernment and be sovereign in our thinking. This, in turn, increases our ability to make clearer and more coherent choices or decisions about our lives.

 

If you want to feel powerful in our shared reality, you need to consciously comprehend where you are losing the power you already have. You need to logically understand how power flows within the system and why.

 

You need to see the architecture of the system and understand how energy, matter, and information circulate within it. You also need to feel it. The more familiar you are with these dynamics and mechanics—observing them across different layers of understanding and experience—the better you can co-create with any system in more efficient, harmonious, and meaningful ways.

 

Today, we’ll talk about something very logical yet highly misunderstood. Most conflicts and challenges in the business world revolve around this specific concept: The Middle Man. Ironically, our economy, wealth, and financial abundance also exist thanks to the same concept.

 

The Middle Man has a difficult karma. He is responsible for exponential human evolution, progress, technology, innovation, and the growth of civilizations. Yet, he is also the one we all end up blaming for poverty, war, hunger, climate change, and social injustice.

 

The Middle Man holds special power. He can enrich us or make us more successful, but he can also impoverish us or cause suffering. Sometimes, he does all of this simultaneously and with the exact same strategy.

 

 

Who is The Middle Man, and what is his problem?

 

In a very simple model of a transaction between two entities, there is an exchange of something—mental, emotional, physical, or creative energy, for example. Or it could be any other product or service you can think of.

 

In business transactions, we often talk about a Producer and a Consumer of something, usually an asset. Typically, a producer meets the needs of a consumer in some way, and the consumer gives the producer money in exchange. This is the most basic form of economy.

 

For example, the gardener gives me the vegetables he grows to satisfy my need for food, and I give him money in exchange. If I don’t have money, I would need to find something else the gardener wants or needs. This is logical. Not everyone is a reincarnation of Mother Theresa, and no one works to satisfy others’ needs without receiving something in return. It’s just common sense.

 

Exchanging money for what we do for each other is simple, easy, and convenient. In its essence, money is supposed to be neutral and serve as an intermediate tool in our exchanges. Money is just the invisible Middle Man that makes our transactions more multi-directional and diverse. It doesn’t limit us to one-on-one exchanges; it builds networks where people can trade more freely and in a more decentralized way.

 

At its core, money is a wonderful, super useful, and very powerful invention. It’s no surprise that money as a concept originated around the same time as civilizations (at least according to some history books). In fact, it makes sense that without money—or the strategy it provides to enable diverse multilateral transactions—the growth or expansion of civilizations as we know them today wouldn’t be possible.

 

If money is amazing, pure, and meaningful at its core, where did things go wrong? When did money become 'evil'? How and why did it become guilty of causing violence, abuse, and the destruction of our collective natural environment?

 

Where, how, and why did this specific Middle Man—money—gain more power and influence than both the consumer and the producer in the original transaction?

 

We now live in a world where a simple tool, invented by none other than ourselves (or the invisible, imaginary Middle Man), runs the entire show and even dictates the outcomes of our collective future evolution.

 

Isn’t it funny?

Wait for it. It gets even better.

 

 

The 'business' Middle Man

 

The "middle man" could also refer to an intermediary or broker who facilitates transactions between two parties. For example, if I want vegetables but there’s no gardener nearby, I would rely on someone else to deliver them to me. Essentially, I would need a middle man to bridge the gap between my needs and the farm's produce.

 

What I really want is food, but because the food is distant, I have to engage with another entity that ensures the supply chain between me (the consumer) and the farmer (the producer) functions.

 

Most of the things we consume daily don’t come directly from the producers. Often, we don’t even know who the producer is or where the product originated. Many of the products we use are mediated by countless middlemen—some necessary, many not. In fact, even with something as essential as food, there can be over 100 subsystems acting as middle men between the farm and your table.

 

Everything that happens between the original producer and the final consumer is part of the 'middle man' economy. A middle man can be an entire network of multinational industries.

 

Let’s pause and think about this.

 

You may not have fully realized it, but our current economy isn’t based on the authentic needs or desires of consumers. Nor is it built around the hard work or creativity of producers. Instead, it is centered around the middle man and how to grow this intermediary system exponentially. This economy isn't designed to empower or fulfill the genuine needs of people engaged in economic transactions to help each other.

 

The majority of jobs today involve some form of being a middle man. In fact, most professionals don’t even know where they fit in the entire value chain between producer and consumer. Many engineers, for example, don’t fully understand where their inventions end up or who ultimately benefits from their work. And, sadly, most don’t care.

 

But they should. Because if they took the time to trace the effects of their work, many would be shocked to see the nonsensical ends to which their talents contribute. It’s often disheartening to realize that the fruits of their labor may end up harming others or the planet, all in the name of creating more wealth and jobs for middle men.

 

...

 

Most of today’s innovations, technologies, and investments are geared toward the needs of supply chains—the in-between space—not toward the needs of real human beings or the original producers and consumers. The system isn't about efficiency. It’s about artificially enriching the middle man.

 

To make real money fast, the middle man often manipulates or exploits both the producer and the consumer. The middle man is the father of corruption, and corruption cannot exist without the middle man. That’s why those who occupy middle-man roles are often the wealthiest in today’s economy—and why many are deeply corrupted, even if they are unaware of it. Some genuinely believe they are doing the right thing.

 

But they can’t see the bigger picture. The system is too fragmented, too complex, and doesn’t make logical sense to them. They are so disconnected from both the end consumer and the original producer that they lose touch with authentic human needs, resource waste, or the struggles of producers. All they see are numbers, but the meaning behind those numbers is lost. They fail to grasp the environmental and human costs that lie behind their profits.

 

Their primary objective becomes increasing the numbers—KPIs or other performance metrics. However, what they don’t realize is that by boosting their numbers, they often impoverish both the producer and the consumer. When the economic middle man becomes too wealthy, greedy, and corrupt, we all lose. The entire system becomes poorer and more disempowered.

 

 

The 'green' Middle Man

 

Let me share a personal story to illustrate the point further.

 

A couple of months ago, I was stopped on the street by someone from Equiterre, probably the largest environmental NGO in Quebec. They were raising awareness about the sustainability emergency, specifically focusing on the responsible and organic food supply chain in the province.

 

As expected, they were asking for donations, and I was curious to understand exactly where this money would go. So, I asked some deep questions.

 

At first, the young and innocent-looking man used a cheap guilt-based marketing technique, explaining how much of a privilege it is to eat organic food. He said that everyone should have access to this privilege—healthy, non-toxic food. On the surface, everything he said made sense. It’s hard to disagree with the idea that everyone should have access to food that doesn’t harm them.

 

He then explained that Equiterre was asking for my money to help more people gain access to healthy food. A fair cause, right? But I wanted to know how exactly they planned to do that with my contribution.

 

This is where things got interesting.

 

"We have a great project," he told me. "We buy vegetables directly from producers, and because we’re so powerful, we pay them 30% less than the actual price."

 

I paused for a second. So, Equiterre buys organic vegetables at a 30% discount from farmers? I asked naively, "Then what?" How do you get this healthy food to the people who can’t afford it?

 

"Well," he said confidently, "we resell the vegetables to the existing distribution system, but a bit cheaper than what they would have paid to the farmers directly. So, consumers will pay less for healthy food."

 

In his mind, this was logical and fair. But he seemed oblivious to the fact that the distribution system would likely sell the vegetables at the same price to the consumer and pocket the extra profit. The end user wouldn’t actually have better access to healthy food, and the farmer would end up 30% poorer. Only Equiterre and the distribution network would truly benefit from my donation.

 

I asked him again, "Why should I give you my money for this project?"

 

I could see him getting more agitated, as my questions poked holes in his logic. He proudly said, "Well, we teach farmers how to make their vegetables organic and responsible. We give them access to trainings and certifications to help them offer healthier food. We ensure the end consumer knows what they’re eating is clean and safe."

 

What I learned from this naïve man is that, apparently, Quebec farmers don’t know how to do their own jobs and require overpriced experts and sophisticated scientists to tell them how to grow natural vegetables on their own land.

 

Farmers, who have been growing food since the beginning of agriculture, now suddenly need engineers, lawyers, computers, heavy administration, complex auditing procedures, and sophisticated scientists to produce vegetables that aren’t toxic to us, our water, air, or soil.

 

His arrogance and ignorance about the actual problem of sustainability and food security were mind-blowing.

 

 

I obviously didn’t give him my money, but what truly disturbed me was that he was the one responsible for raising social awareness about sustainability to people on the street. He had zero knowledge or understanding of the actual problems or solutions he was offering, yet he presented himself as an expert. Worse, he was shaming me for not giving him money to support his vague mission of providing people with healthy food.

 

The conversation ended with him yelling at me, tears in his eyes, admitting that he didn’t care or understand a thing about what he was saying. He just needed money to pay for medical school and didn’t know a thing about the environment or sustainability. He was simply good at talking and convincing people, so he took a summer marketing job at Equiterre.

 

He was doing what he needed to do to get where he wanted to go. Working for Equiterre looked great on a CV—it’s an amazing asset for a medical school interview. Raising public awareness, caring for the environment, and contributing to food security all sounded like impressive achievements.

 

I hope he did get into the medical school of his dreams, hopefully through more than just his marketing skills. And I also hope he stops advertising himself as a sustainability expert to people, on the street or anywhere else.

 

But it’s not his fault.

 

There are millions of people like him. Many individuals working in professional sustainability roles have no idea what they’re actually doing or why. They don’t understand the real logic behind the strategies they create and ask money for. They take these 'green' jobs because they pay well and look good on a resume. They feel good about themselves, and others respect them. But many lack the required expertise, experience, or knowledge to discuss true sustainability coherently.

 

They simply repeat what they’ve heard somewhere. They apply rules, laws, and certifications. They study, calculate, control, and manage endlessly. But they don’t understand the purpose behind what they’re doing. How does any of this help producers become more responsible or wealthy? How does it make consumers healthier?

 

These people, like the guy from Equiterre, are just the middlemen in the system. They need to justify their existence in the chain. If producers and consumers ever realize they don’t actually need middlemen to do business efficiently, these middlemen would lose their jobs.

 

It’s a zero-sum game.

 

Imagine you have one apple that needs to be shared equally between everyone involved in a transaction. If only the producer and consumer are involved, they each get half the apple. But if a third party—a middleman—steps in, they too take a portion of that apple. And if there’s an entire supply chain with multiple middlemen, each needing to be paid, what happens to the producer’s and consumer’s shares? How much of the apple are they left with?

 

Middlemen have no choice but to manipulate you in some way, to sell you something you don’t need. Because without this manipulation, they wouldn’t be able to stay in business.

 

 

Now, back to organic food for a moment.

 

 

Why exactly does naturally grown, local organic food cost so much more than chemically processed food from another continent? How do those economics work?

 

How is it possible that a product like Kraft Dinner, which requires multiple industries, chemicals, petroleum products, and factories, is more affordable than a few tomatoes grown with just healthy soil, sun, and water? How does that even make sense?

 

Tomatoes can grow almost anywhere and require minimal human resources. Since they don't need complicated chemicals or heavy machinery, they are essentially free to grow when done organically. There’s almost no supply chain required, making it the simplest way to shorten and simplify the food supply chain by bringing the producer and consumer closer together.

 

But Kraft Dinner requires a lot of energy, natural resources, and labor to produce. The supply chain is complicated, involving many economic agents, expensive marketing campaigns, and layers of management. All these players take a slice of the pie, and they all need to be paid.

 

There are also overhead costs—offices, business trips, and other operational expenses.

 

But who is really paying for all of that?

 

If they can go through such a complex process and still sell Kraft Dinner for cheaper than local tomatoes, who’s covering the difference? It’s clearly not the final consumer, since it costs them next to nothing, cheaper even than fresh produce. If you were truly paying the full price of Kraft Dinner, it would likely be one of the most expensive meals you’d ever buy. And it would still be unhealthy for you, but the price alone would make you think twice before eating it.

 

Yet, it remains cheap and widely available in every grocery store. Every poor person in wealthy countries can afford the luxury of Kraft Dinner. So, who is subsidizing it?

 

In most cases, it’s the government that covers the hidden costs. More than 90% of the real cost of producing Kraft Dinner doesn’t appear on your bill because it’s already been paid elsewhere, indirectly.

 

So, even though you’re paying less than five bucks today, you’ve already funded the full price in other ways. You’ve paid through natural resource depletion, taxes, exploited labor, and our shared communal wealth. We are all paying for it, even if you've never eaten Kraft Dinner or don’t even know what it is.

 

Now, back to organic tomatoes. They’re theoretically free to grow, but the farmers still need to be paid for their work. The people who deliver the tomatoes to your local market also need to be compensated. So yes, they come with a cost.

 

But if you only paid for the labor of producing and delivering the tomatoes, they’d be much cheaper than they are today. We could all have organic, healthy tomatoes in abundance for a fraction of the current price.

 

But here’s the catch.

 

You’re not paying for just the tomato. You’re paying for the entire supply chain, plus the administrative and logistical work surrounding that tomato. And when a local tomato wants to label itself as 'organic,' it incurs even more overhead costs.

 

For example, do you know how much it costs farmers to get organic certification for their crops? Who do you think is paying for that? While Kraft Dinner is subsidized by the system to keep its price low, organic farmers are burdened with extra costs imposed by the same system just to stay in business. This artificially inflates the price of a tomato for the final consumer.

In the case of Kraft Dinner, the production cost is X dollars, but the company receives Y dollars in funding or subsidies. So the final cost for consumers is Y - X, meaning they pay far less than the true production cost.

 

For an organic tomato, the production cost is X dollars, and there are additional overhead costs of Y dollars, meaning the consumer must pay X + Y, making the tomatoes more expensive.

 

This pattern applies to sustainability certifications, carbon markets, and many other green industries. These are massive middleman industries that come with hefty price tags. And guess who’s paying for them? You are, whether it’s with your money, time, energy, or even your health. You are still one of us, paying the real cost for all of it.

 

The 'Political' Middle Man

 

Before diving in, let’s ask: what are politics?

 

Politics refer to the activities and processes involved in decision-making for groups, organizations, or societies. It's about how power is acquired, exercised, and maintained, and how people influence these processes. Though we often think of politics in terms of government, politics exist wherever people with differing interests make collective decisions. It happens in workplaces, communities—anywhere power dynamics are at play.

 

Now, let’s talk about the political 'middle man.' These intermediaries exist everywhere, not just in governments. However, government is an obvious example, so let’s explore that.

 

Governments are about maintaining social order and stability. Their primary goal is to ensure the survival and well-being of the population. It’s about leadership, safety, fairness, and control. Governments exist to make sure resources are distributed responsibly and, ideally, fairly among the population. But they face a big problem: social disorder.

 

The quickest way to lose the trust of the population is through an economic crisis, especially when people lose their jobs and fear for their survival. Fear, at a systemic level, often leads to social upheaval. So the government’s real focus is on jobs, not money.

 

Why jobs? Because money isn’t the real issue for them. They can manipulate it, create it, even destroy it. National debt is unpayable, everyone knows that, but no one cares. What really matters to them is keeping people employed, because when people have jobs, they feel secure, and secure people are less likely to revolt.

 

Governments do everything in their power to create and maintain jobs—even if it means funding jobs that don’t actually produce value. Why? Because as long as people are employed, they won’t rise up out of fear for their own survival. Sometimes, this means creating artificial positions just to keep the wheels turning.

 

But what if, instead of just creating jobs, governments focused on creating well-being, happiness, and health? What if the success of a government was measured not by the number of jobs or amount of money in circulation, but by the number of healthy, happy citizens?

 

Imagine new KPIs for governments: How many people are systemically healthy? How clean is the air, water, and soil? How many children are eager to go to school? How low are the rates of suicide, mental health issues, and drug addiction?

 

Today, we judge success by how many hospitals a city has. But isn’t that backward? A country with many hospitals is not necessarily more advanced—it may just be sicker. More hospitals mean more illness. Shouldn’t we judge progress by how few hospitals are needed?

 

In this framework, asking for more hospitals implies we expect more sickness. If we want true health, we should ask for clean air, healthy food, proper education, and strong social networks. If we had those, we wouldn’t need so many hospitals.

 

It's the same logic with military defense: Do you want protection through force, or a natural safety that comes from peaceful relations? Do you want more jobs, or do you want a better quality of life? Do you want more money, or do you actually want something else entirely?

 

Clarity in what we ask for is key. If we truly want well-being, we need to ask for it directly. We must set coherent, reasonable goals that benefit the collective whole. And governments will follow.

 

We also have a part to play in this. Co-creating the reality we aspire to live in requires integrity and collaboration. No one is fundamentally against us—most people, including governments, are doing the best they can with the demands we place on them. We just need to ask for what we truly desire and be willing to work together to make it happen.

 

The challenge is that very few are straightforward about what they really want. Instead, we create layers of unnecessary middlemen between us, because we can’t articulate our desires or collaborate effectively. The 'political middle man' is often just a reflection of our own confusion and inability to clearly express what we need.

 

If we start asking for what we really want—health, happiness, sustainability, and meaningful lives—the system will follow. But it’s up to us to make that shift.

 

The 'Spiritual' Middle Man

 

Sometimes when people become too aware of the economic system's nonsense and the role of the economic Middle Man, they experience a mental or emotional breakdown. This awakening often leads them down a path labeled as 'spirituality.' They cut ties with the material world, become minimalists, and proudly declare themselves free from Middle Men.

 

And yet, here’s where things get even funnier.

 

The 'spiritual' Middle Man is often far more subtle—and even more convoluted.

 

Who, or what, is the 'Middle Man' in spirituality?

 

What is spirituality, after all? At its core, spirituality is about self-actualization. It's a deeply personal journey that reconnects you with your essence, with the eternal spirit that resides within. It's about bringing fragments of your being back into a harmonious whole, finding 'Home' within yourself, where your spirit truly belongs.

 

There should be no external person, no mediator, no middle ground. This process, by definition, involves only you. It’s your own self-discovery, your own path back to the heart of who you are.

 

And yet, the world of 'spirituality' is filled with Middle Men.

 

Think about it. Who else, besides you, could possibly lead you back to your inner self? Only you know who you are and how to navigate your way home. The truth is simple: no one else can do this for you.

 

But for many people on this spiritual path, the story is quite different.

 

Instead of going within, they turn to others to show them the way. There are countless creative ways the so-called 'spiritual' Middle Man shows up. For some, it’s religion or God. For others, it’s spiritual guides, dead ancestors, therapists, or mentors. The list grows: angels, gurus, crystals, sacred temples, church retreats, magic mushrooms, even tantric sex. I could go on forever.

 

Just look at the market. The spiritual and personal development industry is thriving—and it’s one of the most lucrative in the world. Much of it flies under the radar, tax-free and unregulated. Churches and spiritual 'experts' operate under their own financial rules, selling not products, but beliefs. They offer promises to help you find your true home, your inner peace, your divinity.

 

But here’s the thing: they don’t know who you are. They don’t know what you need. And yet, you give them your money, your time, and your trust—all in exchange for the belief that they can guide you toward your own self.

 

This is the genius—and the danger—of the spiritual Middle Man. In some ways, it’s even more powerful than the economic one. You willingly give your resources to those who don’t even ask outright. But what are you paying for? How, exactly, does it help you find your way home?

 

Is there truly any need for a Middle Man between you and your own inner God?

 

...

 

Selling invisible, intangible 'goods' doesn’t absolve the spiritual Middle Man of contributing to the world's deep confusion. On a subtle level, the spiritual system can be as harmful—if not more—than the economic one.

 

A guru who convinces you that they alone hold the keys to your spiritual awakening becomes a Middle Man. The moment you believe that your connection to the divine hinges on their teachings, their energy, their wisdom, you start losing faith in your own ability to find your way. You might even become dependent on their guidance, trapped in a cycle where you continuously seek their approval, their next insight, their 'blessing.'

 

And suddenly, you're pouring your time, money, and energy into their system, helping them grow more powerful while becoming further distanced from yourself. You might even begin to call yourself 'spiritual,' feeling enlightened by their presence, but deep down—have you found your way home?

 

And if you have, who really guided you there? Was it the guru, the practice, or was it you all along?

 

The question remains: is the spiritual Middle Man necessary, or is it just another distraction, keeping you from the truth that was always within you?

 

No Middle Man?

 

Is a Zero Middle Man World Even Possible?

 

Can we actually imagine a world with no Middle Men at all? A world where the entire economy is radically decentralized, fragmented into small, local ecosystems, with minimal space for the Middle Man? How would that look? Is it a utopian dream or something far more grounded than we realize?

 

Let's think about it: a minimalistic economic model, one that operates without the clutter of unnecessary intermediaries. A model where people engage directly with each other, creating, sharing, and exchanging what they truly need. Would we still be able to thrive, to enjoy the wealth and abundance we currently seek through traditional systems?

 

The answer is yes.

 

The funny thing is, we’ve had the tools all along. Humans are naturally wired for co-creation. We’re inherently collaborative beings, constantly looking for ways to share, exchange, and fulfill our authentic needs. It’s part of what makes life rich—not just materially, but in meaning, connection, and joy. We've always had the capacity to make our lives more coherent, resilient, and yes, more fun.

 

But somewhere along the way, we outsourced that power to the Middle Men. Instead of tapping into our inherent creativity and empowerment, we let someone else mediate our exchanges, someone else set the terms of the transaction. And over time, that space between creator and consumer—the Middle Man—expanded into entire industries that mediate every aspect of our lives.

 

Yet we don’t need to live like this. The process of decentralizing is not as extreme or radical as it sounds. It’s about reconnecting with our natural human impulse to create and share directly, without unnecessary barriers. We can minimize the Middle Man, make the economy smaller and more personal, without losing any of the richness that life has to offer. In fact, we’ll find more of it.

 

 

One of the great misunderstandings is that without Middle Men, or without a high-growth economy, there will be scarcity and poverty. But the truth is quite the opposite. Degrowth doesn’t mean we have less; it means we have more of what really matters—time, energy, connection, fulfillment. We reduce waste, optimize resources, and create an abundance that feels more genuine and satisfying.

 

Think of it this way: when you buy a carrot directly from a farmer you know, that carrot tastes better. Not just because it’s fresh, but because it’s tied to a relationship of trust and connection. You know who grew it, where it came from, and there’s joy in that exchange. That carrot nourishes you not just physically, but emotionally and even spiritually. It’s a carrot you can feel good about.

 

And isn’t that what we’re all craving?

 

We don’t want to be stuck in soulless systems where our work feels disconnected from real human need. We want to feel like our contributions matter, that we are true co-creators. The truth is, no one really wants to be a Middle Man. Deep down, we all long to serve others authentically, while fulfilling our own needs with integrity and ease. We want to be part of an ecosystem where value flows naturally, without the clunky mechanisms of an unnecessary middle layer.

 

 

When we minimize the Middle Man, we’re not just cutting out inefficiency. We’re reclaiming something essential to our humanity—our ability to co-create, to self-actualize. Each of us has a natural desire to express ourselves through what we produce, to bring our unique gifts into the world, and to meaningfully fulfill the needs of others. This is the core of self-actualization.

 

Without the burden of excessive intermediaries, we can focus on real, authentic exchanges. We get to be both creators and receivers in a continuous loop of co-creation. When we engage directly with the process of producing and consuming, we align more closely with our true selves. This, in turn, creates a more meaningful and joyful life.

 

It’s a natural evolution. As we realize that we don’t need as many Middle Men to mediate our lives, we begin to reconnect with our own power. We discover that we already have everything we need to thrive—our creativity, our capacity to collaborate, and our desire to exchange value with others. It’s a return to the essence of who we are.

 

 

So, is a Zero Middle Man World possible? Well, it depends on how far we’re willing to go.

 

The truth is, there will always be some form of mediation, some layer between us and what we want to achieve. But the question is: does it need to be that way? Does it need to be so complicated, so disconnected, so disempowering?

 

Maybe the Middle Man doesn’t have to disappear entirely, but they do need to evolve. If we are going to have any intermediaries in our lives, they must be transparent, accountable, and aligned with the real value they’re helping to create. They need to enhance, not hinder, the natural flow of co-creation.

 

And here’s the punchline: the biggest Middle Man between us and our own self-actualization has often been our own mind. We've been conditioned to believe we need someone else, something else, to show us the way. But if we're honest, the truth is simple: we’ve been holding the map all along.

 

So, the next time you feel like you’re stuck in a system with too many Middle Men—whether in the economy, in your spiritual journey, or even in your own head—just remember: the only real Middle Man is the one you let stand between you and your own power.

 

And maybe, just maybe, it's time to fire that guy.





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