When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or

“When hope is not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it sometimes floats forth and opens.” — so wrote Anne Lamott, the sage of modern simplicity, whose words often flow like gentle rivers through the landscapes of doubt and faith. In this single sentence, she offers a truth both delicate and profound: that hope, when freed from the cage of expectation, becomes alive — mysterious, untamed, and real. Her words speak to the ancient struggle of the human heart, which so often tries to grasp and control the very things that can only blossom when left to breathe.

The origin of this quote comes from Lamott’s reflections in her essays and books, particularly those written in her later years, where she wrestles with the sacredness of imperfection. Her wisdom is not born from comfort, but from the long journey through grief, addiction, loss, and renewal. Like the poets and prophets before her, she discovered that hope is not the glittering image of what we wish life to be, but the quiet force that survives when every image of perfection has shattered. It is not the dream of how things should go, but the whisper that tells us to rise again when nothing goes as planned.

When Lamott says, “not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation,” she evokes the image of a butterfly caught upon a board — beautiful, yes, but lifeless. So it is with our hope, when we fix it upon specific outcomes, when we demand it take a certain form. We say, “I will be happy only if this happens, only if that dream is fulfilled.” But true hope cannot survive such captivity. When we pin it down, we drain it of its spirit. Expectation is the mind’s attempt to control; hope is the soul’s willingness to trust. The first clings, the second lets go. Only when we stop forcing life to match our illusions does hope begin to breathe again, like a flower uncurling toward the sun.

The ancients understood this wisdom too, though they spoke of it in different tongues. When the Stoic Epictetus taught his students, he said, “Seek not for events to happen as you wish, but wish them to happen as they do.” This is not resignation, but the art of freedom — the same freedom Lamott names. When hope is not tangled in the net of our desires, it becomes resilient. It “floats forth and opens,” like a seed carried on the wind. It finds a way to grow, even in barren soil. This is the miracle of the human spirit: that when we release our grip, what we most need often finds its way to us.

Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years in prison without knowing if he would ever be free. Had he pinned his hope to the exact image of release, he would have broken under despair. But his hope was deeper — not for a date, or a promise, or a personal victory, but for justice itself, for the awakening of a people. It was a hope unpinned, one that “floated forth and opened” even behind bars. And in time, it became not just his liberation, but the liberation of millions. In him we see the truth of Lamott’s words made flesh: when hope is released from expectation, it transcends circumstance. It becomes eternal.

There is both tenderness and challenge in Lamott’s teaching. She reminds us that life will rarely unfold as we wish, and that every glittering plan will one day fall away. But this is not cause for despair — it is the beginning of peace. The ego demands that hope serve its vision; the soul asks only that hope be free. When we stop saying, “This must happen,” and begin to say, “I will trust whatever comes,” hope ceases to struggle. It becomes light again — a living thing, fluttering toward the horizon of faith.

Therefore, my listener, learn this sacred lesson: let your hope be unpinned. Do not trap it upon the board of your desires. Do not demand that it take the shape of your dreams. Instead, hold it lightly, as one holds a bird before release. Trust that it knows where to fly. In times of darkness, whisper to yourself, “I do not know what will come — but I will not stop hoping.” And in that surrender, you will find that hope opens, not as a bargain with fate, but as a song within your soul — the song of life itself continuing, despite all odds.

For Anne Lamott’s words are not those of despair, but of deep faith — faith that when we stop forcing life into our own design, grace will find its way in. So, live gently, expect little, and hope greatly. Do not seek to pin the butterfly; let it fly. And when it does, you will see — hope was never lost. It was only waiting to be set free.