Making it Up as We Go Along

revjaneblackall
Jul 5
23 min read

Updated: 7 days ago

Sunday Service, 6 July 2025

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Musical Prelude: Evergreen - Yebba (performed by Georgia Dawson and Toby Morgan)

Opening Words: ‘We Pause This Hour’ by Bruce Southworth

We gather this hour to pause; to honour the spirit and to accept

ourselves as fragile humans, equally full of nobility and strength.

We gather, weary – perhaps – of life’s many trials,

yet cheered by infinite possibilities for love’s grace.

We meet with smiles and glad voices for old friends and new –

every stranger a gift of potential friendship and mutual consolation.

We rejoice in the keen mind and the warm heart.

We remember those whose opportunities and needs our society thwarts,

and we give thanks for the blessings that are ours, even in the midst of struggle.

We praise all who extend a hand in service and whose vision of justice commands action.

We pause; we gather; we meet; we rejoice; we remember; we give thanks; we praise;

We proclaim our community – as we gather this morning to worship together. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction:

These words from Bruce Southworth 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 us via Zoom, and anyone tuning in at a later date via YouTube or the podcast. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.

Our service today is all about ‘Making it Up as We Go Along’. I often say that one of the main things we’re doing here together at church is reflecting on how best to live – what to make of our lives – what to do for the sake of the common good, and the betterment of the world. But relatively few of us are living our lives according to a masterplan – life throws all sorts at us – and generally we just have to adapt and cope with each curveball as best we can. In life there is a lot of improvisation – making something out of what we’ve been given – the circumstances we happen to find ourselves in.

So we’ll be thinking about improvisation today. And I found two quotes which speak to this, which I’ve put on the front of the order of service, the first is from the comedian Stephen Colbert: ‘Life is an improvisation. You have no idea what’s going to happen next, and you are mostly just making things up as you go along.’ The second quote, perhaps a more spiritual and more uplifting view, which gives us plenty to think about, is from the violinist Yehudi Menuhin: ‘Improvisation is not the expression of accident but rather of the accumulated yearnings, dreams and wisdom of our very soul.’

Chalice Lighting: ‘With Hearts Open’ by Julianne Lepp (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)

We seek our place in this beautiful, heart-breaking, world

and we search for answers to our hearts’ deep questions.

As we seek, may our hearts be truly open –

open to complex and unexpected answers,

open to the wise insights of others,

open to forming new and ever deeper connections

within, between, and beyond our selves.

And may the light of our chalice remind us that this is

a community of warmth, of wisdom, and of welcome.

Hymn 62 (purple): ‘Here We Have Gathered’

Our first hymn this morning is number 62 in your purple books, ‘Here We Have Gathered’. For those on zoom the words will be up on screen for all our hymns. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.

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.

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. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.

So I invite some of you here in person 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 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 if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.

(zoom 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 Miklós Székely

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Miklós Székely. You might want to adjust your position for comfort, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever works for you. Do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present here and now, in this sacred time and space – 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)

And be with us each new day as we wake.

Let us know the comfort of your presence

and the revitalising power of your calling.

Whatever we have to face, be it joy or sorrow,

give us strength to carry through the new day.

Give us to know that when we arise in the morning

we must give thanks for the morning light,

for life and strength, for we are still here.

We give thanks for the persistent gifts of living;

our food and our friends and so many small joys,

which might go unappreciated in the struggle of our days.

Give us hope – in doing your will – in aligning ourselves

with the promptings of peace, justice, and love.

May the warmth of the fellowship we share here

stay with us through this coming week and all it brings.

May we draw strength from the faith we hold and this

beloved community we are an indispensable part of.

May we show our faith by extending our compassion and care

to those we find challenging and those we struggle to understand.

May we find strength in humility, courage in adversity,

joy in diversity, and a true sense of purpose in our prayers.

And so, in the coming week, may our ears and eyes be open to

tidings of joy and gladness, to hints of new possibility.

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, bless and prosper the work of our hands,

for our life, and for the larger life, as you would see it,

the realm of love that is yet to come. (pause)

So in a few quiet moments let us take some time to pray inwardly the prayers of our own hearts;

calling to mind all those souls we know to be suffering this day, whether close to home, or on the

other side of the world. The world’s troubles can feel overwhelming; for now, let us focus on the

causes which call most strongly to our heart, and hold these sacred beings in the light of love. (pause)

Let us also pray for ourselves; we too are sacred beings who face our own struggles and muddle

through life’s ups and downs. So let us take a few moments to reflect on our own lives, and ask for

what we most need this day – maybe comfort, guidance, insight, or forgiveness – in order to

flourish. Let us offer up both our sufferings and our tender hopes to the One That Holds All. (pause)

And let us take just a little longer to remember the good things in life and give thanks for them.

Those moments in the past week where we’ve encountered generosity, kindness, or pleasure.

When others have reached out to us, helped us to get by, or the world’s beauty has overflowed.

Let us cultivate a spirit of gratitude as we recall all those moments that lifted our spirits. (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 88 (purple): ‘Let it Be a Dance’

Let’s sing again – our second hymn is number 88 in your purple books – ‘Let it Be a Dance’. This used to be a regular hymn but I don’t think we’ve sung it this year so maybe we can hear it through before we sing. Hymn 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.

Learn to follow, learn to lead,

feel the rhythm, fill the need

to reap the harvest, plant the seed.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 the sun shine, let it rain;

share the laughter, bear the pain,

and round and round we go again.

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.

In-Person Reading: ‘Leftovers’ by Gordon McKeeman (read by Hannah)

I sometimes enjoy cooking. I’ve discovered that one of the greatest of culinary skills is making new creations out of leftovers. It takes imagination. It takes a little skill with spices, herbs, and sauces. The achievement of a satisfying and palatable meal from leftovers can be a model of how one might conduct one’s own life in a creative way.

The first thing you need to do is to open the refrigerator door. You’ll see an assortment of things: containers, jars, bags, boxes, and things wrapped in foil, waxed paper, or plastic.

Now I invite you to open a different door, the door of your past. What you find there will be leftovers, too. You will probably find your parents’ voices, their admonitions, perhaps their praise, maybe their blame, their warnings, some expression of their love, their anxiety. You may find traces of their uncertainties, problems, and hopes.

You will rediscover some decisions that you have made without thorough understanding of the consequences: about leaving home or not leaving; about when you decided to be married or not to be, or both, and to whom. You will probably remember some of the jobs you took, some of the jobs you wanted but didn’t get, and some of the ones you thought about and turned down. You will also find some circumstances, accidents, diseases, and the times you were born into and lived through. You will find your family and some of its ways, its customs, the habits that were funny or odd and are somehow deeply ingrained and make other ways seem even odder than your own. You will find people who touched your life in a thousand unaccounted and unexpected ways, who were there at special moments and changed you or made you a gift: the gift of a smooth stone, a happy day, or an unforgettable experience. And there will be all the ruins, sorrows, guilts, regrets, along with the fears and the hopes, dreams and doubts, forgivings and forbiddings. Don’t we have crowded refrigerators! Every one of us, such a collection of leftovers.

In making a life, we’re all cooking with leftovers from childhood, even infancy. The longer we’re at it, the more leftovers there are. Of course, people are always looking for the “big answer”... and there is one big answer to cooking with leftovers. You open the door, and you are faced with the problem, “What can I make of it?”

I take that to be the secret ingredient for dealing with leftovers. A scriptural version is “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” You might consider attaching it to the refrigerator door – either the internal one or the external one – since it’s a description that fits both. What is that secret ingredient? It is, of course, faith. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Welcome to the world where we all cook using leftovers – some of us with imagination, some with creativity, some merely resenting the task, some thinking there is no possibility in it. Add the secret ingredient. Something will come of it that will be at least edible… probably even quite palatable.

Words for Meditation: ‘Improvisation’ by Jared Carter

We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share a short poem – a villanelle, I think it is, a poem with lots of echoes and repetition in it, which I love – the poem is simply called ‘Improvisation’ and it’s by Jared Carter. The poem will take us into 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 – maybe adjust your position if you need to – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, so feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘Improvisation’ by Jared Carter

To improvise, first let your fingers stray

across the keys like travellers in snow;

each time you start, expect to lose your way.

You’ll find no staff to lean on, none to play

among the drifts the wind has left in rows.

to improvise, first let your fingers stray

beyond the path. Give up the need to say

which way is right, or what the dark stones show;

they will show nothing till you lose your way.

And what the stillness keeps, do not betray;

the one who listens is the one who knows.

To improvise, let all your fingers stray,

out over emptiness is where things weigh

the least. Go there, believe a current flows

each time you start; expect to lose your way.

Risk is the pilgrimage that cannot stay;

the keys grow silent in their smooth repose.

To improvise, first let your fingers stray.

Each time you start, expect to lose your way.

Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell

Interlude: What a Difference a Day Makes - Stanley Adams / Dinah Washington (performed by Georgia Dawson & Toby Morgan)

In-Person Reading: ‘Tell them about the Dream’ by Stephen Nachmanovitch (read by Roy)

This reading comes from a book called ‘The Art of Is: Improvising as a Way of Life’, by Stephen Nachmanovitch, and the piece is titled ‘Tell Them About the Dream’.

On August 28th 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, during the climax of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, the great gospel singer Mahalia Jackson was sitting on the platform near her friend Martin Luther King. Dr King had begun reading his prepared address. Seven paragraphs into the speech, Jackson broke in and shouted, ‘Tell them about the dream, Martin! Tell them about the dream!’

King pushed aside his notes and began improvising.

His written text did not mention dreams. As he looked up at the crowd and rolled into the rhythmic majesty of ‘I Have a Dream,’ Dr King was riffing on part of an earlier speech he had given at Cobo Hall in Detroit but that he felt had not worked very well; he was riffing on bits from the Bible, from Shakespeare, from Lincoln, from the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. The ghost of Gandhi was never far. Though we can identify the deep roots of King’s words, the innumerable strands and influences had been collectively digested, absorbed, and integrated. The interbeing of many is expressed in the voice of each of us. We recognise King’s courage and brilliance, but he was not some solitary genius spinning ‘creativity’ out of whole cloth. For there are no such geniuses. This is what it is to be human: to learn and assimilate the patterns of culture, community, and environment, both conscious and unconscious, and alter them as needed, make them ours, such that the voice spontaneously emerging is our voice, interdependent with the human world in which we live. Thus we breathe life into art and art into life.

Improvising means coming prepared, but not being attached to the preparation. Everything flows into the creative act in progress. Come prepared, but be willing to accept interruptions and invitations. Trust that the product of your preparation is not your papers and plans, but yourself. Know that no solo is solo: even one of the greatest speeches of all time was helped into existence by a good friend’s blurted reminder.

Words from Stephen Nachmanovitch; ‘Tell them About the Dream’ from ‘The Art of Is’.

Reflection: by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

I feel I should begin my reflection with a confession: I am the last person who should be talking to you about improvisation. The idea of being spontaneous, speaking off-the-cuff, or – God forbid! – doing a role-play has struck terror into my heart for most of my life. I like to have a script, or a plan, and (more-or-less) stick to it. I need time to think things through and at the very least sketch out contingency plans for all the most likely ways that a situation will unfold. I expect that will always be my preference (as an autistic person) and I suspect I’m not alone, though I’m sure there are plenty of free-spirits amongst us this morning too, who tend to lean more the other way. So, if you’re anything like me, you might need a bit of convincing about the idea of embracing improvisation. But, the thing is, whether you – or I – would choose to improvise for fun, or not – over the course of our lives the need to improvise occasionally is pretty much unavoidable. We’re repeatedly going to find ourselves in situations where the unexpected happens and we need to respond creatively to whatever new reality we suddenly find ourselves in.

Plans are, of course, still very much worth making. They can help us to live more intentionally, to act out of our principles and values, rather than following the crowd; plans can give us a sense of agency, rather than feeling we’re drifting through our days, at the mercy of chance; and plans can keep our spirits up, by giving us things to look forward to, hopes on the horizon. At the same time we can (and we must) be clear-eyed and realistic about the possibility – perhaps the likelihood – that our grand plans won’t entirely survive contact with reality. That refrain from the Jared Carter poem says it all: ‘Each time you start, expect to lose your way.’ The world we’re living in seems ever more turbulent and unpredictable, doesn’t it? So it helps if we can hold our plans lightly, with a certain openness-of-mind-and-heart, and be ready to respond and adapt to whatever unexpected curveball life might throw at us next. As per the quote from Stephen Colbert we heard earlier: ‘Life is an improvisation. You have no idea what’s going to happen next, and you are mostly just making things up as you go along.’

When you hear the word ‘improvisation’, I wonder what first comes to mind? Comedy, perhaps? Certainly I remember watching the Channel 4 improv panel show ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ as a teenager back in the nineties and going to see the Comedy Store Players a few times. Or there’s theatre: some of you might be aware of the ‘Austentatious’ collective who have improvised a parody of Jane Austen novel live on stage in the West End every week for the last eight years. Or indeed our own much-missed congregation member Veronica Needa who was a pioneer of Playback Theatre and improvised in response to audiences’ life stories. Our former warden Jenny, as some of you may remember, was a keen practitioner of a form of dance known as contact improvisation. Or, on a rather different tack, improvisation in the kitchen – who remembers ‘Ready Steady Cook’ on TV? – good old Ainsley Harriot! – that show where celebrity chefs are presented with a carrier bag of random ingredients by contestants and have to rustle up something edible out of it in just 20 minutes (with the help of a reasonably well-stocked store-cupboard of basics). Or you might think of improvisation in music, especially jazz – I don’t know if we’ve got any jazz musicians lurking in the congregation – though I know we’ve got some jazz enthusiasts here.

It’s no coincidence that a lot of the commentary I found on improvisation came from musicians. The Catholic writer Edward Hays has said: ‘Those who love life enjoy "playing it by ear," engaging life without a printed score, simply flowing with its melody. By keeping our agendas flexible and minimizing our demands, life can be a melodic song. Whenever circumstances interrupt the normal rhythm of life, those who cultivate patience and inner freedom are able to improvise with a life situation like jazz musicians, making up music as they go along. And the emphasis in "playing it by ear" is on playfulness. Those who use that gift of the Holy Spirit make their way gracefully through life.’ Similarly the singer Bobby McFerrin has said: ‘Improvisation means coming to the situation without rigid expectations or preconceptions. The key to improvisation is motion – you keep going forward, fearful or not, living from moment to moment. That’s how life is.’

So we might usually think about improvisation in these specific spheres – comedy, theatre, dance, music, cooking – but what unites all these different expressions? In her book, ‘Improv Your Life – An Improviser’s Guide to Embracing Whatever Life Throws at You’, Pippa Evans writes this:

‘Improvisation is a mystery to many people because it is so tied up in its identity as a comedy show, rather than a skill in and of itself. So I would like to use the following definition of improvisation: Improvisation is the art of using what is available to you in the moment. This definition works for me because the strongest improvisers are the ones who have unlimited access to everything they possess. ‘What is available to you’ means the people around you, the props on the table, and the treasure trove that is yourself. Your thoughts, your words, your responses, your presence in the moment. The best improvisers are not loud show-offs (not all of them, anyway) – they are curious and interested in the world around them. They want to expand their general knowledge, to be equipped for every scenario.’ Words from Pippa Evans.

I would call this ‘Improvisation as a Way of Life’: ‘the art of using what is available to you in the moment’. Think back to that piece that Hannah read for us earlier on, by Gordon McKeeman, about ‘Leftovers’. He uses that metaphor – of improvising something more-or-less edible out of the random bits and pieces we happen to have left in our fridge – to get us thinking more deeply about the process of improvising a life that is liveable out of the random bits and pieces – material, psychological, or spiritual – we have accumulated over the course of our lives so far. Given who you are, the resources you have at your disposal, and the situation you find yourself in, however sub-optimal, the way of the improviser is to ask, in the moment: ‘what can I make of it?’

Paradoxically, it actually takes a fair bit of preparation, in order to improvise skilfully and well. Preparation can increase ‘what is available to you in the moment’, enhance your metaphorical store-cupboard, by stocking you up with resources to draw on. But as Stephen Nachmanovitch succinctly put it: ‘Improvising means coming prepared, but not being attached to the preparation.’

The spontaneous delivery of ‘I Have a Dream’ by Martin Luther King illustrates perfectly how – despite appearances – the very best improvisation doesn’t just conjure brilliance out of thin air. It takes a huge amount of groundwork. Dr King had given many speeches before that day, none of which had seemed to work so well, but he had learned a lot through all that experience. And he was thoroughly steeped in so many crucial influences: the Bible, and Shakespeare, political pioneers and justice activists, all of which he had ‘digested, absorbed, and integrated’. Dr King ‘used what was available to him in the moment’: in his case a huge wealth of inner riches, which he drew on, riffed on, and remixed in real-time, in order to articulate his powerful vision. We can learn from his example when preparing ourselves to improvise in daily life. All the wisdom we are exposed to, that we can digest, absorb, and integrate, becomes part of our ‘treasure trove’. It shapes our way of seeing and responding to the world in each moment. Again, as Nachmanovitch puts it, ‘trust that the product of your preparation is not your papers and plans, but yourself.’ Many forms of improvisation – certainly in music, dance, theatre, and comedy – involve two or more people playing off each other – which requires some ‘tuning in’, sensitivity of perception, to allow responsive, constructive collaboration in the moment. This often involves some sort of framework or ‘rules of engagement’ to structure the interaction; it’s rarely a complete free-for-all.

Musicians might structure their improvisation by basing it on certain scales. Dancers – I know this much from my own experience of ballroom dancing – social dancers will have a repertoire of basic steps that they can join together in different combinations in response to the music. And we practice our scales or moves so they come more easily to us and are ‘available in the moment’. Again, the same principles might come in useful when thinking about improvisation in daily life, as we’re never truly living in isolation, and will face constraints and opportunities as a result. We’re part of an interdependent web with every other being in the universe, so the dance-that-is-our-life will always involve other people…. which inevitably complicates matters!

And perhaps the final thing to mention about improvisation is that it’s guided by some sort of vision of what it is we might hope to create – whether it’s an audience rolling with laughter, a beautiful and flowing movement across the dancefloor, a delicious curry – or maybe even a speech that will change hearts and minds and ‘bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice’ (perhaps the rest of us won’t have quite the impact that Martin Luther King did but all of our creative acts, however humble, play their part in nudging the universe in one direction or another).

So when it comes to Improvising as a Way of Life – well, what is it that we hope to create? What are the values and principles that guide us and shape our way of being in the world? What are the aspirations that we hold before us when we look at our life and ask ‘what can I make of it?’

In a way, coming to church each week is a bit like practising our scales, or our steps, in preparation for the everyday improvisation that is our life. Here we remind ourselves, over and over, of our shared values and principles, internalising them, so that they become habits of mind and heart, so that they are ‘available in the moment’ – ready so that, when we’re confronted by life’s latest plot twist, we stand a better chance of spontaneously responding in a way that aligns with our highest values, and ‘being our best selves’ And each time we meet, I hope, we each tuck a little bit more wisdom into our store-cupboards, and build up our resources and our inner strength for whatever it is we might have to deal with next. Don’t forget those words from Yehudi Menuhin: ‘Improvisation is not the expression of accident but rather of the accumulated yearnings, dreams and wisdom of our very soul.’

So I hope to see you back here next week – same time, same place, eh? – let’s keep on practising together as best we can. And, in so doing, let’s support each other in responding ever more creatively to this precious life. May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.

Hymn 125 (purple): ‘One More Step Along the World I Go’

Let’s sing one last time. Our final hymn is number 125 in your purple books: ‘One More Step Along the World I Go’.

One more step along the world I go,

one more step along the world I go;

from the old things to the new,

keep me travelling along with you;