Start Where You Are
- Jun 6
- 18 min read
Sunday Service, 7 June 2026
Led by Jasmine Cooray
Musical Prelude: Morning has Broken - Cat Stevens (performed by Andrew Robinson)
Opening Words: ‘We, Whose Journeys are Always Beginning’ by Marni Harmony
We, whose journeys are always beginning
We, whose mission always awaits us
We, whose visions are bent on loving,
We gather together here.
We gather as a community drawn together
out of common need,
each carrying our own bundle of treasures and dreams.
We gather together seeking meaning,
yearning to understand life in all its dimensions—
as it challenges and expands,
as it burdens
as it consoles and heals.
We gather together with questions—
the kinds of questions that provoke us to the path of action.
We gather with hope,
the kind of hope that pulses on, through uncertain times.
We gather with tenderness,
the kind of tenderness that can only be born from knowing
human capabilities as well as human imperfections.
We gather wanting certainty, and having none,
but we are ever-wakeful to possibilities
as we seek discernment and gentle judgement.
We gather, then, unbounded—but close.
We gather, drawn to reconnect with the depths of life,
to turn our attention to the Spirit, which flows around and within us always.
We gather to join with others in building beloved community;
dreaming a realm of love and justice into being;
helping to create a better world for all. (pause)
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These words from Marni Harmony 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 ‘Start Where You Are’. Over the next hour we will reflect on the challenge of finding the drive to move forward after difficulty - what resistances we might be confronted with, and which reframings might be useful in getting ourselves unstuck.
Chalice Lighting: ‘The Chalice Lit Among Us is a Beacon’ by Debra Faulk (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 proudly progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.
(light chalice)
The chalice lit among us is a beacon:
A beacon of hope, for a fragmented world in crisis;
A beacon of possibility, made manifest in community;
A beacon of warmth, felt through our interconnections;
A beacon of light, illuminating our shared human wisdom;
A beacon of connection, sensed in this precious time together.
Hymn 43 (purple): ‘Gather the Spirit’
Let us sing together now. Our first hymn is number 43 in the purple book, ‘Gather the Spirit’. For those joining on Zoom the words will be on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer. Hymn 43.
Gather the spirit, harvest the power.
Our separate fires will kindle one flame.
Witness the mystery of this hour.
Our trials in this light appear all the same.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit of heart and mind.
Seeds for the sowing are laid in store.
Nurtured in love and conscience refined,
with body and spirit united once more.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit growing in all,
drawn by the moon and fed by the sun.
Winter to spring, and summer to fall,
the chorus of life resounding as one.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Candles of Joy and Concern:
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 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 for comfort, 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)
This morning we give thanks for the gift of renewal.
We give thanks for the ability to begin again, to start over;
after each time of trial and loss, each season of struggle and sorrow;
in the midst of upheaval and the endless tests of our endurance.
Grant us the courage to continue on the journey,
the courage to act and speak for the well-being
of others and ourselves and the planet we share.
May we forgive ourselves and each other
when our courage and care falls short,
and may we resolve to try again.
Grant us hearts to love boldly,
to embody our faith and our values
in living words and deeds.
May our hearts open to embrace
humility, grace, and reconciliation.
Grant us the ability to learn and grow,
to let the Spirit of Love and Truth work
its transformation upon us and within us.
Grant us the spirit of radical hospitality,
the willingness to sustain a dwelling place
for the holy that resides in all being.
Grant us a sense of being at peace in the world,
even as we are in perpetual motion,
tossed and turned by life’s tempests.
Let us cultivate – together – the strength
to welcome every kind of gift life brings our way
and all manner of ways to be on the journey together. (short pause – 5 seconds)
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 – 45 seconds)
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 11 (purple): ‘Blessed Spirit of My Life’
Let’s sing again now – our second hymn is number 11 – ‘Blessed Spirit of My Life’. Hymn 11.
Blessed Spirit of my life,
give me strength through stress and strife;
help me live with dignity;
let me know serenity.
Fill me with a vision;
clear my mind of fear and confusion.
When my thoughts flow restlessly,
let peace find a home in me.
Spirit of great mystery,
hear the still, small voice in me.
Help me live my wordless creed
as I comfort those in need.
Fill me with compassion,
be the source of my intuition.
Then when life is done for me,
let love be my legacy.
Reading: ‘The Art of Starting Over’ by Nidhi Malik (excerpts, adapted) (read by Roy)
At some point in life, almost everyone hits a wall. A business collapses, a job is lost, a relationship ends, a dream doesn’t come true, or everything just stops making sense. In those moments, one thought echoes louder than the rest: “I have to start over.”
But starting over is rarely as clean as it sounds. It comes with grief, guilt, confusion, and often, a lingering sense of failure. We look at where we are versus where we thought we’d be, and the distance between the two feels crushing. We compare ourselves to peers who seem miles ahead. We question past choices, regret wasted time, and worry whether it’s too late. And yet, the ability to begin again — to rise, realign, and rebuild — is one of the most powerful skills we can develop. It is not a sign of weakness. It is a quiet declaration of courage.
It’s not the “starting” that’s the hardest part. It’s the starting over. That phrase carries emotional baggage — disappointment, perceived wasted time, shame, and even embarrassment. When we restart, we’re not just building something new. We’re also battling the narrative in our head that says, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” There’s grief in letting go of a path we invested time, money, energy, and emotion into. Whether it’s a degree we no longer use, a relationship we thought was “the one,” or a career that stopped feeling right — walking away feels like admitting defeat.
But here’s a more compassionate truth: changing directions is not failure. It’s feedback. It means you had the courage to pursue something, the wisdom to realize it wasn’t right, and the strength to start again. That’s not weakness — that’s evolution. One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves when we pivot is: “All that effort was for nothing.” But that’s never true. You are not the same person you were when you began. Even if the outcome wasn’t what you imagined, you gained skills, experiences, insights, and resilience. You’re not starting from scratch. You’re starting from experience. And that makes all the difference. What if you saw failure not as a dead-end, but a detour? Not a judgment of who you are, but an update on what’s not working? This mindset shift is crucial.
Starting over means letting go of the outdated timeline and embracing the one that’s actually unfolding — the one that includes your detours, breakdowns, and breakthroughs. It’s not about being late. It’s about being honest with where you are and what you need now.
You will not always feel ready. You will not always feel confident. But if you have even a tiny spark inside you — a whisper that says “Try again” — honour it. Starting over is not an admission of failure. It is a declaration of hope. Of growth. Of refusing to settle for a life that no longer fits. You are not broken. You are becoming. And every chapter, even the messy ones, is part of a story worth telling.
Words for Meditation: ‘Just Beyond Yourself’ by David Whyte
We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness, I’m going to share a poem from David Whyte, ‘Just Beyond Yourself’, which is printed on the back of your hymn sheet to take away. 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.
Listen
Just beyond
yourself.
It’s where
you need
to be.
Half a step
into
self-forgetting
and the rest
restored
by what
you’ll meet.
There is a road
always beckoning.
When you see
the two sides
of it
closing together
at that far horizon
and deep in
the foundations
of your own
heart
at exactly
the same
time,
that’s how
you know
it’s the road
you
have
to follow.
That’s how
you know
it’s where
you
have
to go.
That’s how
you know
you have
to go.
That’s
how you know.
Just beyond
yourself,
it’s
where you
need to be.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell
Interlude: River Flows In You - Yiruma (performed by Andrew Robinson)
Reading: ‘Where Do We Even Start?’ by Anne Lamott (adapted) (read by Marianne)
I nearly called my last book ‘Doomed: Thoughts on Hope’, but my publisher wouldn’t go for it.
At any rate, a few years ago, I was traveling around the country giving talks at bookstores and churches and mosques on this book about hope, but everywhere I went, people were just so discouraged and defeated by the four years of Trump. And the UN climate change reports were just coming out — and those are just devastating— really end of the world. People just felt like, where do we even start? Will our kids wear gas masks? Just so many heartbreaking things were going on. We were all a little tenser than the average bear, and I wanted to answer that question of, where do we even start?
The answer to ‘where do we start?’ — whether it’s with getting sober, or starting a new book, or a new relationship, or getting over one — is you start where you are. You don’t start in the fantasy of what you hope it will turn out to be, or in a grudge and resentment about how difficult it’s been. You don’t start in the fear of how hard it’s going to be. You start where you are; you start where your bud is. You breathe. Breathing consciously or intentionally connects you umbilically to something greater than your own pinball brain. And then you do a little bit at a time, and you let yourself do it badly. You let yourself flail or fall or get stuck. You do it afraid. You do it kind of cluelessly.
With my writing students, I always had them put a one-inch picture frame on their desk, and kind-of squint through the empty picture frame and see a passage or a memory or a possible opening section. And then, of course, write a really god-awful first draft of it. Everything good springs from really terrible first drafts. You figure out one small thing you could do today that would be helpful, rather than more defeating, and you see how it goes. You just stick with it.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘Here in this Moment’s Song’
Time for a bonus hymn now, it’s on your hymn sheet, ‘Here in this Moment’s Song’.
Here in this moment's song
great symphonies are sung;
all people we contain,
ageless, though old or young:
in passing words and melody
we celebrate eternity.
Thus, in each moment small
we can contain all hours;
in everyone the All
expresses and empowers;
each person great, a living world
from whom uniqueness is unfurled.
Hope shall admit no bounds,
as love no limit knows;
each new-born dream made real
in our commitment grows;
the possible, the yet-to-be
is now, is here, is you and me.
Reflection: ‘Start Where You Are’ by Jasmine Cooray
I would guess that everyone in this room knows what it is to start again. To burn the cake and have to begin again. To leave the house for the second time after coming back for car keys, or umbrella or purse. To leave a field of work. To leave a marriage. To move to a new town. To once again clear an explosion of Lego from a living room floor. To change a nappy almost immediately after putting on the last one. To peel oneself out of bed, with a broken heart, and no desire to go to work.
In some moments it might be harder. We might think no, not again. I can’t do this again. Especially if we’ve been trying over and over to achieve something, build something, put in all our good faith only for it to crumble. Or we might long for the time before all the trying, when we were blissfully armed with an idealistic mind, and the uncautious step of inexperience. Or, some of us might find ourselves going around in circles, doing anything except begin.
So then, how and where do we find it, that impetus to dust ourselves off? To look around and say right, however I got here, I will not let that discourage me from moving forward? To say I am going to do this?
Those of us who know chronic illness or recurring health issues will be familiar with a life that flows in cycles, or in a kind of snakes and ladders game. We know that good periods are often derailed or interrupted by flareup, sometimes predictable, sometimes not. You end up having to let go of a conditional relationship with time. You learn to start the day even if it means going painfully slowly, vulnerable, exhausted and pissed off. You argue with your body and you learn to let it win, because it’s the only place you have to live. You learn to stop seeing incapacity as a failure, and start seeing it as a communication - that you’ve reached your limit, and that the body is a fact, not a concept that can be argued.
Starting where you are involves getting to grips with reality. Not as you would wish it, nor as it might have been in the past. In her book ‘The Psychology of the Climate Crisis’, psychoanalyst Sally Weintrobe questions the value of being protected from the challenges of life. Her argument is that if overly protected from disappointment, frustration, rejection, inconvenience and the like, we then don’t learn to cope, but also end up imagining we are entitled to a life without difficulty, perhaps even seeing difficulty as a sign of failure or worthlessness. She links this with modern culture’s addiction to convenience, at the cost of the earth. In her thinking, neoliberal society has become almost like a tantruming toddler, demanding to have what it wants at all times. It doesn’t want to be told ‘enough, or that the party is over.
And indeed, what if how we view challenge is part of a resistance to starting again? No I don't want to date again, what if I get my heart broken? If I apply for a job, will I once again have a horrible boss? Will my seeds fail again?
In Victor Frankl’s seminal book Man’s Search for Meaning, he writes of embracing suffering as just another form of reality, to be lived, and in living it, allowing it to become concrete. He says ‘instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy’.
And why would sufferings take that position? When I think of suffering, I think of something arriving that, usually, I had not chosen - a loss, an injury, a stressor - and I recognise that somehow I met it and lived it, even while protesting or distressed. Maybe what counts is not perfect grace in the face of the unknown, but a willingness to greet it as it is, rather than how you imagine it. In the piece we heard earlier by Nidhi Malik, they use the phrase ‘starting over’, but then acknowledge that you are never in the same place where you began. It is then, a misnomer. Perhaps to begin from where you are can also benefit from time taken to honour what came before, rather than erase it out of disappointment. If you look more closely, what were the unexpected vistas on that scenic route?
Sarah Tinker mentioned in her service a few weeks ago the experience of futility. A ‘what’s the point’ of trying, when we might just end up ‘at square one’.
Every spring, I watch as council workers mow down all of the flowers on our shared green spaces; daisies, dandelions, yarrow, green alkanet, ragwort, mallow’s purple trumpets, cow parsley, violets - all shredded to nothing, and then once again, growing, putting out new shoots, reaching again for the light. Sometimes I think that survival instinct uncomplicated by consciousness sounds like a more peaceful way to be. If I were a daisy, I perhaps wouldn’t need so much navel gazing to decide to get up and start again. I would just start again! But alas, I am, we are human.
In the 1990s film Jurassic Park, Jeff Goldblum explains Chaos theory to Laura Dern. He describes chaos theory as the multiple, unplottable routes for a raindrop to take down a windscreen. He takes the opportunity to flirt with her in an oily way but that’s beside the point. What he seems to be emphasising, shortly before being ‘confronted’ by a T-rex while in a toilet stall, is the value of not knowing, not being able to control how something goes. All the multiple possibilities beyond our imagining. As we heard in the Malik reading, ‘starting over means letting go of the outdated timeline and embracing the one that’s actually unfolding’.
The flowers on the lawn grow a different way each time. I imagine they do it without complaint. They are in, as Mary Oliver says ‘the family of things’. They play their part.
In Judaism, collaborating with God—often framed as being a partner in the work of creation, is a foundational concept. It shifts the human role from passive subservience to active, responsible co-creation. So then, each day, each challenge becomes something that requires your input, like a dance partner, like the other foot that turns the pedals.
Anne Lamott in the piece read by Marianne talked about looking through a tiny frame to see where the point of beginning might be. I liked this because it reminded me of trying to find the end of the Sellotape - pawing it clumsily or with frustration, you might not find it. It takes care, and perseverance. How many times, exasperated, and drained of all imagination, might we say ‘oh I just don’t know where to start?’. Lamott says, start where your bud is - that is, start where there is a glimmer of life, and go from there, allowing yourself to be clumsy, to fail, to stumble.’
I’ll end with this quote from the Malik piece earlier: ‘You are not broken. You are becoming. And every chapter, even the messy ones, is part of a story worth telling.’
Hymn 147 (purple): ‘Spirit of Earth, Root, Stone and Tree’
Time for one last hymn now, number 147, ‘Spirit of Earth, Root, Stone and Tree’. Hymn 147.
Spirit of earth, root, stone and tree,
water of life, flowing in me,
keeping me stable, nourishing me,
O fill me with living energy!
Spirit of nature, healing and free,
spirit of love, expanding in me,
spirit of life, breathe deeply in me,
inspire me with living energy!
Spirit of love, softly draw near,
open my heart, lessen my fear,
sing of compassion, help me to hear,
O fill me with loving energy!
Spirit of nature, healing and free,
spirit of love, expanding in me,
spirit of life, breathe deeply in me,
inspire me with living energy!
Spirit of life, you are my song,
sing in my soul, all my life long,
gladden and guide me, keep me from wrong,
O fill me with sacred energy!
Spirit of nature, healing and free,
spirit of love, expanding in me,
spirit of life, breathe deeply in me,
inspire me with living energy!
Announcements:
Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Aisha for co-hosting. Thanks to Andrew for lovely music and Edwin for supporting our singing. Thanks to Roy and Marianne for reading. Thanks to Patricia for greeting and Julia for making coffee. If you’re online stay for a chat with Aisha if you can. If you’re in-person please do stay for refreshments.
This week we’re starting a six part course online called ‘How to Be a Unitarian’ – that’ll be led by Jane and Charlotte – even if you’ve attended it before you can come again – we’ll be joined by friends from all over the country to explore questions of what it means to be a Unitarian and all the different forms it can take. Please do support this and sign up with Jane ASAP if you can.
For this month’s Better World Book Club we’re reading ‘Just About Coping’, that’s about mental health, written by London psychologist Natalie Cawley, and we have at least one copy of that to loan out if you’d like to come along. Email Jane to sign up for that.
On Friday at 7pm we’ve got our online ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on the theme of ‘Gardening’ – we haven’t got a Sunday one this week as Jane’s away.
Next Sunday Jane will be back with a service titled ‘The Age of Artifice?’ (about the rise of AI among other things).
Please sign up ASAP for a summer solstice labyrinth mini-retreat on Sunday 21st June. And have a chat with Vita who is offering a Sunday afternoon workshop on Indian Head Massage on 5th July.
Details of all our various activities are printed on the order of service, and also in the Friday email, so sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already done so. Our summer newsletter is out now – please do take a copy if you haven’t already got one. 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 Lindsay Bates
With faith in the creative powers of life,
With hope for the future of life in this world,
With love for all others who share this life with us,
Let us go forward together, in peace, to seek justice.
Our gathering has ended; let our service begin.
May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Closing Music: Pennies from Heaven - Burke/Johnston (performed by Andrew Robinson)
Jasmine Cooray
7 June 2026