We’re taught to believe the next moment is where everything will finally begin —
when the timing is right,
when clarity arrives,
when life shifts into place.

But waiting carries a quiet weight,
and holding the future open
can become its own form of exhaustion.

In this episode of Expect Nothing, the illusion of the threshold is examined —
the fatigue of anticipation,
the habit of postponing presence,
and the relief that arrives
when the search for “what’s next” is finally allowed to fall away.

This is not a chapter about preparation.
It is about release.

A meditation on immediacy, rest,
and the freedom that returns
when life is allowed to happen
exactly where it is.

Expect nothing.
Begin again.
Glow anyway.

Lunar Phase: Dark Moon — release before renewal

Time is not the prison we were taught to believe in.

Urgency, regret, and anticipation fracture the self across an imaginary line —
past and future pulling attention away from the only place that holds power.

In this episode of Expect Nothing, the listener steps out of linear time
and into the density of presence.

The Persistence of Now explores the illusion of scarcity,
the psychological architecture of the clock,
and the moment the timeline ruptures —
revealing that the self being searched for
has never been lost or delayed.

This is not an episode about becoming.
It is about remembering.

A meditation on presence, sovereignty,
and the quiet freedom that arrives
when the line dissolves
and the self returns to Now.

Nothing is missing.
Nothing is late.
Nothing needs to be earned.

Expect nothing.
Glow anyway.

Lunar Phase: Waning Moon

What is spoken is rarely where the truth lives.

This episode explores the silent architecture beneath conversation —
the pauses,
the restraint,
and the unsaid truths carried in the name of comfort and belonging.

In the air between the words, it becomes clear how often voice is traded for peace,
truth for compliance,
and presence for approval.

The Air Between the Words examines the subtle moments of self-betrayal,
the energetic weight of politeness,
and the quiet power that returns
when the word finally matches the fire.

This is not about speaking louder.
It is about speaking anchored.

A meditation on silence, subtext,
and the moment a voice stops echoing
and becomes its own signal.

Expect nothing.
Glow anyway.

Lunar Phase: Waxing Moon — the threshold of voice

There are moments no one sees.
Battles fought without witnesses.
Hours survived quietly, without applause.

This episode is an offering to the parts of us that endured in silence —
the unwitnessed self who learned how to survive when no one was watching,
and the compassion we often forget to give ourselves afterward.

Through reflection, sound, and stillness, this chapter explores the private rooms we keep locked long after the danger has passed — and what happens when we finally return with mercy instead of judgment.

This is a meditation on self-forgiveness.
On releasing the internal judge.
On honoring survival without needing to explain it.

If this episode meets you in a quiet place, you may want to know that these themes continue on the page as well. Diana’s poetry collection, The Poet Who Forgot Her Name, was written for the selves that learned to survive without witnesses.

Available now wherever books are found.

Expect nothing.Begin again.Glow anyway.

Lunar Phase: Waning Crescent

Tonight, the moon wears her oldest name.

Under the Wolf Super Moon, this lunar letter honors the moment instinct returns — when softness learns its edges and survival remembers its song.

This is for the self who was taught to be smaller.
For the one who listened to the dark instead.
For the one who learned that gentleness and power can share the same body.

A whispered invocation for winter courage, embodied truth, and the wild intelligence that refuses to stay tame.

Stand in the moonlight.
Let it silver your scars.
Let the wolf inside you stretch.

Glow anyway.

Lunar Phase: Wolf Super Moon
Theme: Instinct reclaimed • embodied power • winter courage

No one was home — and for the first time, that felt like truth instead of loss.

Healing the part of you that learned to hide — inside the moon’s quiet chamber.

After the mirror cracks, truth does not rush in —