Circles and Spirals
Sunday Service, 23 August 2026
Led by Jasmine Cooray
(video and audio to follow after the event)
Musical Prelude: Ronald Binge: The Watermill (performed by Abby Lorimier and Andrew Robinson)
Opening Words: ‘Come Into This Circle of Community’ by Andy Pakula (adapted)
Come into this circle of community.
Come into this sacred space.
Come as you are.
Dare to bring your whole self -
Bring the joy that makes your heart sing,
the moments that have carried you through the week.
Bring your kindness and your compassion.
Bring also your sorrow, your pain, your frustrations,
your brokenness and your disappointments.
Spirit of love and mystery; help us to recognize
the spark of the divine that resides within each of us.
Welcome all, whoever you are, whatever your beliefs,
Whatever fears and struggles you carry
Bring them here, so that we may know
the joy of wholeness, and of being together.
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These words from Reverend Andy Pakula welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining via Zoom, and anyone tuning in at a later date via YouTube. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jasmine Cooray, I’m a member of this congregation, and I’ll be leading our service this morning.
This morning’s service has the title ‘Circles and Spirals. Over the next hour we will reflect on the ways in which our lives move in circular motion, the challenges and opportunities of repeated experience, and what traditions across the world have to offer on the theme.
Chalice Lighting: ‘A Beacon of Hope’ by Erika Hewitt (adapted)
Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. It’s a moment for us to stop and take a breath, settle ourselves down, put aside any preoccupations we came in carrying. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.
(light chalice)
The chalice is a beacon of hope.
The chalice is a sign of promise
that the marginalized will neither be forgotten nor ignored,
because they are valued and precious, held in spirit and loving community.
This morning, we remember all of the people
who have been told explicitly or implicitly, that they’re
anything less than whole; anything less than beloved.
As we light this chalice,
may we make of our lives a beacon:
a symbol of our promise to draw the circle wide;
and extend our welcome to all.
Hymn 21 (green): ‘Come and Find the Quiet Centre’
Let us sing together now. Our first hymn is number 21 in your purple book: ‘Come and Find the Quiet Centre’. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.
Come and find the quiet centre
in the crowded life we lead,
find the room for hope to enter,
find the space where we are freed:
clear the chaos and the clutter,
clear our eyes, that we can see
all the things that really matter,
be at peace, and simply be.
Silence is a friend who claims us,
cools the heat and slows the pace;
God it is who speaks and names us,
knows our being, touches base,
making space within our thinking,
lifting shades to show the sun,
raising courage when we’re shrinking,
finding scope for faith begun.
In the Spirit let us travel,
open to each other’s pain;
let our lives and fears unravel,
celebrate the space we gain:
there’s a place for deepest dreaming,
there’s a time for heart to care;
in the Spirit’s lively scheming
there is always room to spare.
Candles of Joy and Concern:
Each week when we gather together, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents.
So I invite some of you to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us who or what you light your candle for – please keep it reasonably brief – be considerate of others. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak, as we want people to be able to hear you.
(in person candles)
And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud. (light candle)
Time of Prayer & Reflection: based on words by Lyn Cox
Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. The prayer is based on words by Lyn Cox. You might want to adjust your position, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever helps you get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – be fully present – with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us. (pause)
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, in whom we live and move and have our being,
we turn our full attention to you, the light within and without,
as we tune in to the depths of this life, and the greater wisdom
to which – and through which – we are all intimately connected.
Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the
silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (pause)
Spirit of Life, God of all love, ancestor of the stars and the sun,
you who embrace the vastness of space and us along with it, be with us today.
Hold us in our worry, our exhaustion, our grief.
Keep us close as we sit with our truth, whatever that may be.
Lead us to rest in the quiet, to find solace and renewal.
You whose arms open with the spinning galaxies,
help us to make room, as you do, for all that is.
Open our hearts to our loved ones, our neighbours,
the beings with whom we share this planet.
Lead us to reach out to others in compassion.
Turn us toward one another in mercy, right relationship, and reconciliation.
You who have seen the rising and setting of suns, of seasons,
of civilizations, remind us of all that we have learned
from the history of the world and from our own histories.
May we reach into our shared wisdom
to find what we need for this week ahead.
Give us the courage to face our mistakes,
and to repair them whenever possible.
Help us understand our interdependence, our relatedness
with all of the other spinning lives around us, and lead us
to treat those relationships with care. Remind us we are not alone.
In this space, filled with the people among us who shine like stars,
this space filled with the glimmer of love and care,
we give thanks for this moment to be together.
May our senses be open to the beauty of this day, this season, this world. (short-ish pause)
And in a few moments of shared silence and stillness now,
may we speak inwardly some of those deepest prayers of our hearts —
the joys and sorrows we came in carrying –
in our own lives and the lives of the wider world.
Let us each lift up whatever is on our heart this day,
give thanks for all the blessings we have been given,
and ask for whatever it is that we most need. (long pause)
Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer comes to a close, we offer up
our joys and concerns, our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,
and we call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.
As we look forward now to the coming week,
help us to live well each day and be our best selves;
using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen.
Hymn 62 (purple): ‘Here We Have Gathered’
Let’s sing again – our second hymn is number 62 – ‘Here We Have Gathered’.
Here we have gathered, gathered side by side;
circle of kinship, come and step inside!
May all who seek here find a kindly word;
may all who speak here feel they have been heard.
Sing now together this, our hearts' own song.
Here we have gathered, called to celebrate
days of our lifetime, matters small and great:
we of all ages, women, children, men,
infants and sages, sharing what we can.
Sing now together this, our hearts' own song.
Life has its battles, sorrows, and regret:
but in the shadows, let us not forget:
we who now gather know each other's pain;
kindness can heal us: as we give, we gain.
Sing now in friendship this, our hearts' own song.
Reading: ‘Going Around in Circles’ by Jennifer Flegg (excerpt) (read by Marianne)
If we are to accept a theory of linear progression then to admit to going round in circles as a sad statement of failure, but I suggest we look at it differently.
Why should we assume that the best way to go anywhere is by means of an endless forward touch with our destination forever dipping just over the horizon? If we adopt this metaphor for our life‘s journey then we are inevitably committing ourselves to concentrating on looking ahead, and so in these terms our focus must always be the future.
If on the other hand, we think in terms of going round in circles, then the emphasis changes. Now we have no ultimate destination because every point on our circle is a point of arrival. We are already there. Where we are at is our destination. Because every moment is a moment of arrival, we are constantly arriving. Our goal is not something distant, ahead of us, but here and now; we have already achieved it, and are in a continual process of achieving.
If we look at our lives in these terms then our whole time frame alters, and with this shift our attitude to many other things could correspondingly change quite radically too. We might find ourselves reassessing our whole value system and making adjustments to our attitude on all sorts of things that suddenly issue more, or less, importance on the scale of things. We might find that to go round in circles is the best thing that we could be doing.
Words for Meditation: ‘I Live My Life in Widening Circles’ by Rainer Maria Rilke
We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness, I’m going to share a poem from Rainer Maria Rilke, ‘I live my life in widening circles’. After that, we will hold a few minutes of shared silence, which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear music for meditation. So let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As ever, these words are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.
‘I Live My Life in Widening Circles’ by Rainer Maria Rilke
English version by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy
Original Language German
I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not ever complete the last one,
but I give myself to it.
I circle around God, that primordial tower.
I have been circling for thousands of years,
and I still don't know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell
Interlude: Jonathan Dove: Prayer Wheel (performed by Abby Lorimier and Andrew Robinson)
Reading: ‘The Theology School of Hard Knocks’ by Christopher Buice (read by ????)
I have a theme song for roller-skating. It is by the pop group Chumbawamba. The words to the chorus are, “I get knocked down, but I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down.” If you have ever seen me skate, you can appreciate why this song is so appropriate.
When I put on a pair of roller skates, I sometimes feel vulnerable. I become aware that I might fall and hurt myself. If I give into fear, I will never be able to experience the fun of flying around the rink. Of course, the vulnerability I feel on roller skates is only a heightened sense of the vulnerability I feel when I am in a pair of sneakers.
Roller-skating is not the only activity during which I get knocked down. I’ve been knocked down on many occasions: by the death of friends and members of my family; by disappointed hopes, broken promises, and shattered dreams. I think very few of us make it around the roller rink of life completely unscathed. Many of us have learned a lesson or two from the Theology School of Hard Knocks.
One of the most significant decisions anyone can ever make is how to respond when hurt or injured by life. When I am roller-skating I realise that I have at least three choices. One temptation is simply to remain sprawled out on the roller rink floor, wallowing in my misery, hoping for some pity. Another choice is to crawl off the floor, get on the bench, nurse my wounds, and sit out the rest of the session. Or I can get up again and say, “You’re never going to keep me down.” In my life it has been important to make the decision to get up once more, brush myself off, and try one more time to make it around the rink. This has not always been easy. And on more than one occasion I’ve needed a helping hand to get me back on my feet again. Yet I know I do not want to be a permanent spectator on the sidelines of existence. In the fullness of time I want to be back in the flow of things, to re-enter and move with the rhythm of the circle of life.
Hymn 88 (purple): ‘Let It Be a Dance’
Let’s sing again – our next hymn is number 88 – ‘Let it Be a Dance’.
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times and the bad times, too,
let it be a dance.
Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music, say the words,
and fill the sky with sailing birds.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Learn to follow, learn to lead,
feel the rhythm, fill the need
to reap the harvest, plant the seed.
Let it be a dance.
Everybody turn and spin,
let your body learn to bend,
and, like a willow in the wind,
let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
A child is born, the old must die;
a time for joy, a time to cry.
Take it as it passes by.
Let it be a dance.
Morning star comes out at night,
without the dark there is no light.
If nothing's wrong, then nothing's right.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let it be a dance.
Let the sun shine, let it rain;
share the laughter, bear the pain,
and round and round we go again.
Let it be a dance.
Reflection: ‘Circles and Spirals’ by Jasmine Cooray
I am sure everyone here has come to a situation and thought ‘not this again?!’
Even if our lives are governed by cycles; the orbits of the earth and the moon, the tides and the seasons, the day’s movement from dawn through to nightfall. Birth through to death. Endings and Beginnings. We live in constant circular motion. So if it feels difficult to find ourselves back in a familiar place, repeating a pattern, or getting knocked on the same wound, how can we come to terms with our cyclical nature, and what can it offer us?
Nature operates in cycles, and we too are nature. Our bodies contain an ecosystem of dying and regenerating cells. Each breath transports oxygen and CO2 in, out and around the body. And during sleep, our muscles repair, nutrients are digested and sent to wherever they are needed, and our brains are flushed through with fluid to eliminate the build up of waste. Without cycles, we grind to a halt. And we depend on the cycles of nature for everything that sustains us - the movement of water and nutrients around the food chain, the light and heat of the star we orbit. Circular motion, then, is everything, and everywhere. So in our lives, what can make it hard to embrace?
There might be things we just don’t want to come back to. Perhaps the idea of just moving forward, further and further away from ‘the past’, might be comforting. What if the past contained terrible and painful things; times of great hardship that we’d rather have as much distance from as possible? Why wouldn’t we want to be free of it especially if the pain of it feels disruptive?
But also, in what ways do we frame difficulty when it comes around again? Do we say, ‘I am doomed, I will never be free of this?’ It’s easy to be demoralised that way. But could we say, yes this happened before, and what is available to me now to help me face it? What information is there, who do I have in my corner? What wisdom do I have now that I didn't have previously, and how can the memory of my survival help me? Or in other, similar words, from the lyrics of 90s pop band Chumbawamba: ‘I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down’.
What about our own misdeeds that we don’t feel great about, and would like to banish to the past? There are versions of me, and perhaps in this room I am not alone in this, who I wouldn’t want anyone to meet now. Ways I behaved that I am not proud of. A compassionate view might be ‘ok, that’s what you were doing to get by at that time’. But sometimes I still want to do those things, act in those ways. It can be hard work to do things differently. We might not always have the support or wherewithal, or perhaps some contexts or people bring out habitual behaviours we’d rather be rid of. Later, we think ‘Damn I’ve done it again, I thought I had outgrown this.’
What do the circles of nature say about this? The trees, the onions, the artichokes, the candy-striped beetroot, the ripples from a pebble in a lake might say, each inner ring is part of the whole.
In her Ted Talk ‘Listening to Shame’, researcher Brenè Brown shares a saying from the American South ‘you gotta dance with the one who brung ya’. This is an old saying that can be associated with loyalty to people, a plan, or a strategy. But in the context of her work on vulnerability, I took it to also mean that whatever has shaped and driven you as a person deserves to be honoured - even if it is in parts uncomfortable, or embarrassing. That experiences have to be acknowledged for what they’ve taught us. But that's much more of a mouthful - so maybe we can go with Dance With The One Who Brung Ya. Or in the famous words from Jon Kabat-Zinn, ‘Wherever you go, there you are.’
Perhaps some of our modern concepts encourage us to think in lines rather than in circles. For example, with her 1969 book On Death and Dying, psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross popularised the idea of five stages of grief - five different states a person is suggested to ‘move through’ after a loved one has passed. The idea is that one eventually arrives at ‘peace’ or ‘acceptance’. At face value this model might seem harmless but if ten, twenty, thirty years on from their passing you suddenly find yourself overcome with emotion thinking about the person, how are you supposed to think about that? Does it mean you are not ‘over it’? Failed at ‘completing the stages’? Might you then judge yourself for ‘still’ feeling anything? Many times we might hear someone apologise for shedding tears over a loss, just because the event was not extremely recent. People around you might be encouraging you to ‘move on’. But if we are living in spirals rather than straight lines, we can expect to return to the same places again and again. And with things and people we care about, doesn’t that just mean we haven’t stopped caring? That we carry the unfolding story within us? That to still feel is testament to the impact and importance of each other, whether we still exist in physical form or not?
How much room, then, does Ross’ model of grief give us to be human, to love and be affected by life in all its mystery?
In the science fiction story ‘Tower of Babylon’ by Ted Chiang, a character spends decades building a tower to heaven. His whole life - and those of his fellow builders - is spent dedicated to finding heaven. It holds, in his mind, so much promise and intrigue, so much sanctity as a pursuit. Once he breaks through the barrier between this world and that, he scrambles through only to find himself once again on earth.
What I found beautiful and also wry about this story was the way it made me think of dogged pursuit toward something ‘over there’, perhaps unaware that what we seek might be closer to home, or already within us, our inner concentric circles. And to me it spoke to the Unitarian core value of living well on earth, for the earth and all those who live here. To live well by our own conscience and in the service of others - even if you have no guarantee that things will turn out the way you planned.
Circles contain us - bring us back into something. On considering this theme I thought about mandalas, the intricate, symmetrical images part of several ancient cultures, and often adhering to sacred mathematics. The website Spiritual Arts Dot Org explains that ‘in Hindu and Buddhist traditions, mandalas represent cosmic balance and the interconnectedness of all things. The central point, or bindu, symbolises the origin of creation, while the surrounding circles and intricate shapes reflect the expansion of the universe. The symmetry in these designs mirrors the harmony found in nature and the cosmos, reinforcing the idea that everything in existence is part of a greater whole.’ And we heard from Marianne about the combination of physics and spiritual oneness in the dance practice of Turning - and how that circular motion, the centrifugal force, holds all together. Perhaps the force of love in active and collaborative community is no different.
So, everything in existence is included in circles. A place for everything. At the round table, no-one is at the head - perhaps this is what the circle offers each of us to; equal importance - in the room, in society, in the universe. And space to be all of our selves, past and present, evolving but with nothing and no-one left behind.
Hymn 186 (purple): ‘We Are Travellers on a Journey’
Time for one last hymn now, it’s number 186, ‘We Are Travellers On a Journey’.
We are travellers on a journey
which brought us from the sun,
when primal star exploded
and earth in orbit spun;
but now as human dwellers
upon earth-planet’s crust,
we strive for living systems
whose ways are kind and just.
We are travellers on a journey
which grows from human seed,
and through our birth and childhood
goes where life’s path may lead;
but now we are delving deeper
in quest of greater worth
and reaching unknown regions
and planets of new birth.
We are travellers on a journey
through realms of inner space
where joy and peace are planets
that circle stars of grace;
and when we find the stillness
which comes at journey’s end,
there’ll be complete refreshment,
a resting place, a friend.
Announcements:
Thanks to Abby and Andrew for our music today. Thanks to Marianne and ????? for reading. Thanks to Brian for helping set up. Thanks to John for greeting and Pat (& Anna) for making coffee. If you’re in-person please stay for tea and cake (Juliet has made tea bread for us to enjoy).
After the service Margaret will be offering her ‘Finding Your Voice’ singing class – that’s free of charge, all are welcome – and she can help anyone to make a better sound with their voice.
This month’s Better World Book Club will be about ‘Upstream’ by Dan Heath, which we’ll be talking about on Sunday 30th August, sign up with Jane if you want to join her for that.
Next Sunday, we will have an online-only service, because it’s carnival weekend and people find it hard to get to and from the church with station closures. The service will be led by Jane, on ‘Thanking our Teachers’, and it’ll be an interactive service where we’ll be invited to share about the teachers we most appreciate. Even if you don’t usually attend online please do give it a go!
Looking further ahead, don’t forget we’ll have our ‘Gathering the Waters’ service in September, so if you’re travelling perhaps you can bring back some water with you to contribute to that. And we’ll have our Harvest Festival followed by a potluck lunch on 27th September. Save the date!
Details of all our various activities are printed on the order of service, and also in the Friday email. The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections.
Just time for our closing words and closing music now.
Benediction: based on words by Yvonne Aburrow
May our inner life be nourished by our community.
And may our community be strengthened
by each person’s unique gifts.
May we honour the diversity of our spiritual journeys,
And help each other on the path. Amen.
Closing Music: Michel Legrand: The Windmills of Your Mind (performed by Abby Lorimier and Andrew Robinson)
Jasmine Cooray
23rd August 2026