Andrew G Stanton - Nov. 13, 2025
Sometimes the hardest thing is to admit that you need more income now — and still keep your long-term convictions intact.
It’s one thing to talk about sovereignty, Bitcoin, open protocols, and building for the long game. It’s another thing entirely when the spreadsheet says, “Congratulations, you’re short again this month.”
In those moments, all the big theories shrink down to something very simple:
How do we cover rent, groceries, and basic life without selling out our souls?
Recently, that question has been pressing on me in new ways.
The kitchen table that turned into a tiny lab
Right now, one of the simplest, most tangible experiments in our world is Kiyomi’s kitchen table.
It started as what a lot of good things start as: something she was already doing anyway. Cooking. Making beautiful, thoughtful meals. Sharing food with people. There was no “strategy deck,” no business plan, no growth funnel. Just the idea that maybe her creativity in the kitchen could live beyond our apartment.
Enter: YouTube, Amazon affiliate links, and a whole lot of friction.
Trying to set up something as basic as, “Here’s my short video, and here’s a link to the exact thing I used so you can buy it,” somehow turns into an obstacle course:
- Some links are clickable; others aren’t.
- Channel “About” vs. video “Description” vs. “Links” section.
- Rules that seem arbitrary now and will probably change again later.
You find yourself thinking: This is absurd. I’m trying to send customers to Amazon and YouTube is still making it hard.
That’s the walled garden reality: even the small, honest experiments have to zigzag through someone else’s rules.
But you know what? We’re still doing it.
Because underneath the friction, something real is happening: we’re attempting to convert an existing gift into a tiny income on-ramp.
From “side project” to dignity stream
I’ve started thinking of these little experiments as dignity streams.
Not passive income. Not “crush it” hustle culture. Just tangible, honest ways to ease the pressure without surrendering the deeper work.
A dignity stream:
- Respects who you are. It doesn’t require you to pretend or fake expertise.
- Serves real people. Somebody actually benefits — they learn, they eat better, they get something useful or beautiful.
- Scales enough to matter. Maybe not to “quit your job tomorrow,” but enough to move the needle over time.
Kiki’s Kitchen can be a dignity stream. So can:
- dog-sitting for neighbors who actually appreciate you
- helping someone debug tech or set up their device
- offering specialized help (like translating or editing) for a fair rate
- building a tiny digital product that solves a real, narrow problem
The key is not whether it looks impressive. It’s whether it fits the person you actually are — and whether it moves even a small part of your life out of scarcity.
Fighting the voice that says, “This is too small”
When you’re used to thinking in big, systemic terms — monetary reset, sovereign identity, rebuilding infrastructure from the ground up — it’s easy to dismiss a little YouTube channel or affiliate link as trivial.
“This won’t change the system.”
“This is barely anything.”
“This won’t fix our finances.”
All true. But also: none of these experiments are meant to be the whole solution.
They are on-ramps.
On-ramps don’t need to be flashy. They just need to get you moving — from 0 to 10, from stuck to in-motion. Once you’re rolling, you can merge into larger lanes later.
The first affiliate sale is not just a few dollars; it’s a proof-of-concept. The first stranger who found you through a short video is not just one view; it’s evidence that your work can travel outside your immediate circle.
If you never let yourself start “too small,” you never get these proofs.
Building without becoming a slave to the algorithm
Of course, there’s a danger here too: you can trade one form of bondage for another.
Instead of being trapped in a nine-to-five that doesn’t fit who you are, you can end up trapped in a creator hamster wheel — chasing trends, optimizing thumbnails, and contorting yourself to please algorithms you don’t control.
That’s not the goal.
For us, the agreement is something like this:
- We use the platforms strategically, with eyes open, knowing they’re walled gardens.
- We don’t let them dictate our worth or our long-term direction.
- We treat them as distribution tools, not as our home.
The long game is still sovereignty: owning our work, our identity, our audience relationships, and eventually our income rails. But in the meantime, if YouTube and Amazon are willing to pay us something — we’ll accept it, as guests who plan to eventually leave with our bags packed.
The courage to iterate in public
Tiny on-ramps require a kind of courage that’s easy to underestimate.
It’s the courage to:
- publish something imperfect
- risk that almost nobody will see it
- risk that some people will see it and shrug
- live with the fact that income might be inconsistent for a while
It’s humbling to upload your first short and watch the view counter crawl. It’s humbling to meticulously set up your links and realize only a handful of people will click.
And yet, those little steps are how everything meaningful starts.
No one begins at scale. Even the creators you see living off their work started with awkward, low-view videos, improvised setups, and confusion about how the platform works. The only difference is: they kept going.
We don’t have to become “influencers.” We just have to become people who are willing to iterate in public long enough to see what sticks.
Letting small wins soften the pressure
Will Kiki’s Kitchen pay all the bills? No.
Will one affiliate link fix our financial stress? Obviously not.
But every little win matters:
- The first subscriber who isn’t a friend or family member.
- The first comment that says, “I tried this recipe and loved it.”
- The first time you see a month-over-month increase in views or clicks.
These are not life-changing in isolation.
But they help push back against that oppressive feeling of, “Nothing I do makes any difference.” They remind you that you’re not just spinning your wheels — you’re laying bricks.
Tiny, uneven, sometimes discouraging bricks. But bricks nonetheless.
And over time, tiny income streams can:
- cover one specific bill
- fund one regular grocery run
- pay for one subscription you need for your deeper work
That’s not nothing. That’s the beginning of breathing room.
Permission to be scrappy
If you’re in a season where you’re exhausted, under pressure, and still trying to build things that matter, consider this your permission slip:
You are allowed to be scrappy.
You are allowed to:
- run experiments that are half-tech, half-handmade
- use platforms you don’t love as a temporary scaffold
- celebrate tiny wins without despising them as “beneath” you
As long as you keep orienting your heart and your long-term plans toward sovereignty — and refuse to make the platform your god — you can use these tools without being owned by them.
Kiki’s kitchen table may never become a massive channel. That’s not the point.
The point is that we’re taking what’s already in our hands — the skills, the stories, the recipes, the lived experience — and giving them a chance to generate honest income, in however small a dose.
That’s not selling out. That’s faithfulness in the little things.
And sometimes, the little things are exactly what keep you going long enough to build the big ones.
Acknowledgement
This article was drafted with the help of Dr. C — GPT-5, which I use as a co-writer and collaborator in developing ideas around sovereignty, Bitcoin, decentralization, and theology.
I dedicate this work to the Holy Spirit, who continues to inspire me and open my imagination. If there is any light in these words, it comes not from me but from the Spirit who gives them. To Him be the glory.
Zaps Appreciated
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Lightning address: andrewgstanton@primal.net
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