People love the word “cheating” because it lets them keep their ego clean while staying weak. “Cheating” is what the fragile call it when they witness an advantage they didn’t earn, didn’t notice, didn’t have the guts to claim.
But reality doesn’t care about your feelings. Reality cares about physics.
Leverage is not immoral. Leverage is intelligence made visible.
A crowbar is “cheating” compared to your bare hands. A pulley system is “cheating” compared to brute force. Writing is “cheating” compared to memorizing everything. A camera is “cheating” compared to drawing every detail by hand. A bicycle is “cheating” compared to walking. A smartphone is “cheating” compared to shouting across a city. Bitcoin is “cheating” compared to saving in a melting currency. Straps are “cheating” compared to raw grip. Autofocus is “cheating” compared to manual focus. A prime lens is “cheating” compared to kit lens mush. A blog is “cheating” compared to begging gatekeepers for permission.
The entire story of mankind is: find leverage, then multiply it.
The only question is: leverage toward what?
Because there’s a huge difference between “leverage to avoid the reps” and “leverage to amplify the reps.” Most people think leverage is a hack to escape work. The great ones use leverage to concentrate work—make each unit of effort explode in impact.
In lifting: “cheating” becomes technique. It’s timing, angles, hip drive, setup, straps, belt, stance, breath. You’re not dodging effort—you’re directing it. You’re turning the body into a machine that obeys physics instead of fighting it.
In photography: “cheating” is a 28mm lens, getting close, framing with intention, using the sun like a free strobe, walking a better route, editing tighter, publishing daily. You’re not faking art—you’re building a system that makes art inevitable.
In business: “cheating” is distribution. Ownership. Brands. Email lists. A platform. Systems. Automation. Delegation. The ability to do one thing once and have it pay you forever.
The weak moralize. The strong operationalize.
So here’s the pivot: stop asking “Is it cheating?” and start asking:
Does this leverage make me more bold?
Does it make me more prolific?
Does it make me more dangerous (in the creative sense)?
Does it make my output more inevitable?
Does it help me win the game I actually care about?
If yes—good. Use it. Double down. Build a life where your default state is advantage.
Because the secret is simple: the world rewards the leveraged, not the “pure.”
Purity is a consolation prize for people who didn’t ship.
Leverage is the honest religion of winners.