Category Archives: Pilgrimage

On achieving closure

Leave a reply

*   *   *   *

Friday, February 13, 2015 – One prevailing theme in this web blog is the idea of a pilgrimage, and I’ve done a few of those myself.  This is a story from my latest pilgrimage:

In the spiritual literature of Christianity, the concept of pilgrim and pilgrimage may refer to the experience of life in the world (considered as a period of exile) or to the inner path of the spiritual aspirant from a state of wretchedness to a state of beatitude…

See “On St. James the Greater.”   (He’s the patron saint of pilgrims.)

*   *   *   *

I just got back from a quick – hopefully last – trip to Biloxi.  The mission?  “Achieve closure.”

Just to be accurate, I “e-searched” closure and got this:  1) “the act or process of closing something, especially an institution, thoroughfare, or frontier, or of being closed,” and/or  2) a “sense of resolution or conclusion at the end of an artistic work.”  Yup, that’s it!

The closure involved the canoe-trip noted in Home from a pilgrimage:

My brother and I took eight days to canoe out to some offshore islands … 10 or 12 miles offshore – including Half-moon Island, Cat Island and Ship Island [both East and West…  For that earlier trip]  I drove down to Biloxi on Sunday November 2 [2014], and we left Slidell [Louisiana] on Lake Ponchartrain on Wednesday November 5.  It took us eight days – through the morning of Wednesday November 12 – to get through the Rigolets (pronounced “RIG-uh-leez”) out to the Gulf islands noted above, and back to Biloxi. [E.A.]

Unfortunately, the end of the trip didn’t go as planned…

That November 12, we got up at 2:00 a.m. and hit the water at 3:00 a.m.   (We had camper lights that attached to the bill of a baseball cap.)  Our goal was the Beau Rivage Casino and Hotel.  We could see it shimmering brightly on the horizon, nine miles away over the open water.

Things went well until somewhere around 5:30, when a storm started coming up, threatening from the north.  (The weather forecast called for a bad line of storms the next day.  That was why we had to make Biloxi that day.  The alternative was spending two or three more days away from the comforts of civilization, like running water and not having to “dig a hole.”  The alternative was huddling in our tents on East Ship Island two or three more days…)

There was no real danger, yet.  But then all of a sudden there was no real horizon either.  And somehow, in the gathering wind and darkness and no horizon, the two intrepid canoeists got separated.  To top it all off, we learned that when we – or at least I – looked around in the darkness for my brother’s “beacon,” those camper lights weren’t all that helpful.

As I peered out into the darkness, the light from my brother’s cap – wherever he was – pretty much blended in with all the other navigation lights, the ones you could see “seaward.”

To make a long story short, my brother ended up calling 911.  (On his cell phone.  This was after he tried to call me on my cell phone.  My cell phone was safely tucked away in a dry bag, somewhere in the bowels of my canoe.  And it wasn’t turned on, for the simple reason that for most of the eight days out, there was no cell-phone reception.  Go figure.)

So anyway, we finished the trip by getting picked up by a boat from the Biloxi Marine Patrol…

Ever since then it has stuck in my craw that I didn’t do the whole eight days’  paddling on my own.  (To stick in one’s craw refers to something that causes one “to feel abiding discontent and resentment,” based in turn on something you “cannot swallow, based on the literal meaning of craw (the throat of a bird).”  See stick in craw – Idioms by The Free Dictionary.)

Here’s how I started figuring.  After I got picked up – in my little Rocinante of a canoe – the BMP boat traveled quite a distance eastward, heading back to the marina just east of the Beau Rivage.  (This was after the officers had picked up my brother and his canoe.)   I remembered too that most of that ride was close to the shoreline.  Thus I interpolated that in the pre-dawn no-horizon hours of November 12, I had drifted quite a way to the west of the Beau Rivage.

I also remember that just before the pick up, I’d been drift-paddling toward a piling with a bright red flashing beacon-light at the top. This was about 5:40 a.m.  I figured I’d wait for the sun to come up and burn off the fog.  (The fog-haze that blur-erased the horizon so well.)

So I wanted to get to the pole, but I didn’t want to get there too soon.  I didn’t want to be seen “clinging to the pole,” like some decrepit old geezer who had no business being out there at that time o’ day.  Also, the waves were rolling pretty well.  That meant it would be quite an effort to either hang on to the pole by myself, or tie the canoe up to the pole, only to see it being tossed up and down, and likely to snap the connecting rope.

This saga is continued in On achieving closure – Part II.

*   *   *   *

The original post had an upper image, a photo I took near dawn, the morning of November 10, 2014. I captioned it, “Here we are – 10 miles out in the Gulf of Mexico – at sunrise on November 10, 2014,” and noted that “those are clouds on the horizon, not land.” That day we got up and broke camp at 3:00 in the morning.  We hit the water at 5:00 a.m. and paddled 17 miles in 11 hours, not counting an hour break on Cat Island, before proceeding to Ship Island.  Not bad for a couple old geezers!

The full “mixed emotions” reference is Mixed Emotions – The Rolling Stones – YouTube.

The full “dry bag” reference is Dry bag – Wikipedia.

On achieving closure – Part II

Leave a reply

*   *   *   *

https://tmrichmond3dotnet.files.wordpress.com/2014/02/picture1_0.png

 

 

 

 

 

The feeling I had – a bit – setting off into utter darkness on the morning of last November 8…

*   *   *   *

Friday, February 13, 2015 – Back in “Part I” we left our intrepid travelers – or one of them – “drift-paddling toward a piling with a bright red flashing beacon-light at the top.”  He – I – waited for the sun to burn off the fog, but wasn’t in too much of a hurry, lest I be seen “clinging to the pole,” like a decrepit old geezer with no business being out there “at that time o’ day.“

In other words, I was in no hurry to actually get to the piling-beacon, on that misty, horizonless morning of November 12.  That’s why I was “drift-paddling.”

Besides, I was rather enjoying the sense of being somewhere, someplace that no one else in his right mind would ever be.  But my reverie ended when I saw a boat some distance away, near the edge of the limited-visibility horizon.  It was traveling fast at a right angle to me, and after a bit I noticed that it had some flashing blue lights.  Then – after another little bit of time passed – it swerved and made a beeline, straight toward me and my canoe…

Which brings us back to “achieving closure.”

My brother and I did eight days and 80 miles worth of canoe-paddling on our own.  We’d also camped in and on a salt marsh, and seen nature at her majestic best (and worst).  We’d seen dolphins capering, once just off our salt-marsh camp, and other times just off our bows.

I learned to live on a breakfast ration of one and a half granola bars and tepid instant coffee.  I learned to pitch a tent on a salt marsh, with water sloshing around my feet, only to find that the abundant bullrushes provided a most comfortable bed.  And I experienced that nagging feeling, in the back of my mind as we set off due south from Half Moon Island, noted above…

What “nagged me” was the feeling, as we set off into the utter darkness on the morning of November 8, that we would either fall off the edge of the earth, or “there be dragons.”

The high point of the trip was covering 17 miles in 11 hours in one long day of paddling.  (Not bad for a couple old geezers.)  But in that time I also learned that kayak-paddling is way different from canoe-paddling.  (I’d been practicing paddling a kayak in the year leading up to this particular pilgrimage.)   As I found out, canoe-paddling can be quite a bit more wearing on the abdominal muscles, especially when the paddling follows hour after hour and day after day.

Which meant that when the ol’ BMP boat picked us up, I had Mixed Emotions.  On the one hand I was relieved to get back on the mainland, away from skeeters and salt marshes and the endless rolling that permeated my dreams. (Urp!)  Yet I still had that gnawing feeling of “abiding discontent.”  And so, ever since then I’ve been planning to do something about it.

*   *   *   *

Last Monday morning, February 9, 2015, I did it.  The night before – after a seven-hour drive – I got a room at the Motel 6 on Beach Boulevard, four-tenths of a mile west of the Mississippi Coast Coliseum.  I woke up at 5:49 – 4:49 Central Time – and found a 24-hour IHOP right down the road, for a carb-heavy breakfast.  I then carried my kayak across Beach Boulevard, over and across the long beach itself, then set out to achieve closure.  It was still dark when I started paddling out, just like on that morning of November 12, 2014.

I set off paddling on a roughly south-southeast course, determined to make sure that the Coliseum stayed visible behind me.  (But then – too late – I realized that I’d left my cell phone back in the room.  That would have been a nice thing to have, “just in case…”)

In his Travels With Charley (“TWC”), John Steinbeck noted the map people, “whose joy is to lavish more attention on the sheets of colored paper than on the colored land rolling by.”  At one point, “knowing the passions of the mapifiers,” he threw in (as a sop) a detailed account of all his map-remembered travels from Houlton down to Millinocket, Maine.

And so – since a “Suggestion from the Master is a Command not unlike Holy Writ” – I too will give such a  brief sop.  After leaving the beach across the road from my motel, I shortly passed the Old Harbor jetty to my left, and close to the “Broadwater Harbor AR” (artificial reef).  Not to mention the Coliseum Pier (a citation that may or may not be redundant).

Incidentally, if you check the “Coliseum Pier” link, the Motel 6 is right at the intersection of Highway 90 (Beach Boulevard) and Briarfield Avenue.  And if you zoom out enough you can see the whole coast from Gulfport to Deer Island.  Deer Island is that long stretch of offshore land that ends right in front of the “Hard Rock” and the Beau Rivage.  That was the Plan B we had before setting off that morning:  If we get separated, head east to Deer Island, then hang a left.

(For purposes of completeness, we left that morning from East Ship Island, the one that isn’t all touristy.  To see the full scope, check Google Maps and type in “Ship Island MS.”)

But we digress…

I’m guessing I paddled two miles out in the first hour and six minutes of my mission to achieve closure.  (That November 11-hour stretch where we covered 17 miles actually amounted to roughly six hours of actual paddling, which was still plenty.  In turn that translated to a speed of 1.546 miles an hour, but much of that 11 hours of paddling happened when the sun was up and its heat roiled wind and tide.  But when I set out last Monday, the Gulf was smooth as a baby’s bottom, as it is wont to be at that time of day.)

At first I had that same nagging feeling, setting out in the complete darkness, of either going off the edge of the world or being eaten by sharks.  But after awhile I settled in quite nicely.  I watched the sun slowly come up, off to my left at about “10 o’clock.”  (See Clock position.)

And every once in a while I’d pause, turn off my stop-watch and just enjoy the feeling “of being somewhere, someplace that no one else in his right mind would ever be.”  I imagine the explorers back in the olden days had something of the same feeling.  (One good reason to take such a trip.)

So anyway, near the end of Travels With Charley, Steinbeck explored “the nature of journeys, how they are things in themselves, each one an individual and no two alike.”  One conclusion?  “People don’t take trips – trips take people.”  He’d known trips that were “over and dead before the traveler returns.”  Like in TWC, where his  trip ended long before he got home:

I know exactly where and when it was over.  Near Abingdon, in the dog-leg of Virginia, at four o’clock of a windy afternoon, without warning or good-by or kiss my foot, my journey went away and left me stranded far from home.

Then there’s the other kind of trip.  That’s the journey that continues “long after movement in time and space have ceased.”   Steinbeck remembered the town of his birth – Salinas – where a neighbor once took a trip to Hawaii.  Ever after, the  neighbor could be seen, rocking on his porch, “his eyes squinted, half-closed, endlessly traveling to Honolulu.”

This last pilgrimage of mine had a kind of in-between ending.  It didn’t end in “Abingdon,” metaphorically or otherwise.  There was too much paddling to do, right up to the end of the eight days.  And after the BMP boat dropped us off at the Biloxi marina, there was too much packing-up to do.  Then the luxury of a long hot shower.  Then the luxury of a big steak dinner…

Even on the long drive home back in November, I had planning to do.  I knew somehow, some time, I’d get rid of the nagging feeling, that “abiding discontent and resentment.”

It had hung over me for over two months.  Then, last Monday, after an hour and six minutes paddling out from Biloxi Beach, I started getting a feeling of at least a bit of peace…

But naturally the long trip back to shore had to be a pain.  Somehow the god of headwinds always seemed to find us intrepid canoeists, whether back on the Missouri near Judith Landing, or on Lake Ponchartrain in 2013.  (We brothers have done this before.)

And so it was for me last Monday morning.

The wind and tide got more and more against me the closer I got to shore.  Finally I headed straight for the west side of the Coliseum Pier noted above, four-tenths of a mile short of my goal, but still “mainland at last.”  After hours on the water, I figured it’d be easier and less stressful to either walk the canoe through the shallows, or drag it up across the beach.

I ended doing a little of both, in an effort pretty much like what would have happened that morning of November 12.  (Assuming the horizon stayed visible, no storm came a-brewing, or that I’d remembered to take my cell phone out of the dry bag and turn it on.)

So as I carried my kayak west along Beach Boulevard, I felt like I’d done what I’d come to do. “And that’s how the traveler came home again…”

*   *   *   *

I borrowed the upper image from The Blog, and in turn it is courtesy of tmrichmond3.net/2014/02/07/here-be-dragons.

Other full “Wiki” references: Half Moon Island (in St. Bernard Parish, LA), along with Houlton, Maine and Millinocket, Maine, from Wikipedia.  Also from Wikipedia, Mississippi Coast Coliseum, Deer Island (Mississippi) – Wikipedia, Ship Island (Mississippi), and Salinas, California.

See also smooth as a baby’s bottom – Wiktionary.

The “TWC” quotes are from Travels with Charley, Penguin Books (1980), at pages 70-71 and 272-73.  (For more on Steinbeck and TWC, see also On donkey travel – and sluts).  The “suggestion from the Master” quote is from pages 37-39, where Steinbeck spoke of Joseph Addison (1672-1719), the “English essayist, poet, playwright, and politician,” remembered as a founder of “The Spectator magazine.”  Steinbeck remembered Addison both for his use of capital letters for nouns and his observing that readers are often more interested in an author’s personal quirks and history than in the finished work itself;  “I have found many readers more interested in what I wear than in what I think.”  See Wikipedia.

I found the “Coliseum Pier” link at Biloxi piers provide great fishing opportunities.

The full citation for Judith landing is Judith Landing Recreation Area – Visit Montana.  See also Missouri River Fort Benton to Judith Landing | Trail Head.  The first pilgrimage taken by the “intrepid canoeist brothers” was also from Fort Benton to Judith Landing.

Travels with Charley ends with Steinbeck back in New York City.  (This was after his trip “left him” back in Virginia.)   He got stuck in a back street, collapsed in nervous laughter and was approached by an “old-fashioned cop with a fine red face” who thought he was drunk.  When Steinbeck explained that he’d gotten lost in his own home town, after driving “all over the country – mountains, plains, deserts,” the officer sympathized.  “Think nothing of it, Mac, I got lost in Brooklyn only Saturday.” Which brings up the last line of TWC, “And that’s how the traveler came home again.”

*   *   *   *

On Thomas Merton

Leave a reply

“Thomas Merton and the Dalai Lama, 1968. . .”

 

Thomas Merton was a Roman Catholic monk.  In his later years he found parallels between his orthodox Catholicism and those exotic Eastern religions that became all the rage back in the 1970s.   Near the end of his life – he died in 1968 – Merton traveled to India and Tibet and at one point interviewed the Dalai Lama, as shown above.

Merton also met with Chatral Rimpoche, “a Dzogchen master and a reclusive yogi known for his great realization and strict discipline.”  (See Chatral Rinpoche – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.)   Merton interviewed Rimpoche on the subject of meditation, and how difficult it was to reach the “perfect emptiness” that is one main goal of Eastern meditation:

“He said he had meditated in solitude for thirty years or more and had not attained to perfect emptiness and I said I hadn’t either.”

That brings up what might be called the ongoing Christian meditation, as it is practiced by most denominations.  One version begins each Sunday service with this summary:

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.  This is the first and great commandment.  And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

(See the Book of Common Prayer – “BCP” – at page 824, referred to in an earlier post as a “Cliff’s Note summary” of the entire Bible by Jesus.  See On “what a drag it is. . .”.)

But not too much later in this standard mainstream Sunday service, parishioners “confess their sins” by admitting candidly, “We have not loved thee with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.” (See the BCP at page 331, emphasis added.)

So what’s the point?

The point is this: both orthodox Christians and Eastern meditators like Chatral Rimpoche and Dalai Lama are – in their spiritual discipline – literally trying to do the impossible.

Both are trying to do what can’t be done, either meditating “perfectly” or loving God and all humanity with all your heart and soul and mind.  But to make a long story short, in practicing such  spiritual discipline you tend to become both a better person and closer to that “oneness” with The Force That Created The Universe that is the goal of true spirituality, as Jesus prayed:

I pray they will be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.  I pray that they also will be in us, so that the world will believe that you sent me.  I’ve given them the glory that you gave me so that they can be one just as we are one.  I’m in them and you are in me so that they will be made perfectly one.  Then the world will know that you sent me and that you have loved them just as you loved me.

See John 17:21-23, emphasis added.  (And before you get all huffy, Mr. or Ms. Orthodox Christian, I’m not saying all religions are equal.  But see the notes below.)

There’s another point.  One biographer said Merton was helped in his spiritual quest by both Christian mysticism and his “wide knowledge of Oriental religions.”  As noted, Merton became fascinated with Zen Buddhism and Zen writer D. T. Suzuki.  He studied Taoism, “regular” Buddhism and Hinduism.  But dallying in these exotic disciplines didn’t weaken Merton’s Catholicism; if anything, they strengthened his faith.  As the biographer wrote:

[B]y approaching the spiritual quest at unexpected angles, they opened up new ways of thought and new ways of experiencing that invigorated and released him. . .

 Which leads to my theory:  The Bible is for liberating the human spirit, not shackling it.

 

 

 

The upper image is courtesy of Thomas Merton in Pictures, which included the caption quoted.

The lower image is courtesy of the Thomas Merton Center website; http://merton.org/App_Master/home/2b.jpg.  “The Thomas Merton Center [at Bellarmine University in Louisville KY] is the official repository of Merton’s artistic estate, which includes over thirteen hundred photographs and nine hundred drawings in addition to his writing.  The Center archives more than fifty thousand Merton-related materials.  See also Thomas Merton Center (Pittsburgh) – Wikipedia, the free …, “a non-profit grassroots organization in Pittsburgh whose mission is to educate, raise awareness and to ask the moral questions that surround issues of social justice, poverty, workers’ rights, racial discrimination, environmental and economic justice, peace and nonviolence.” 

Sounds like a pretty radical guy. . .

 

As to “the real Good News.”  The term Gospel is from “the Old English gōd-spell . . . meaning ‘good news’ or ‘glad tidings.’   The word comes from the Greek euangelion.”  See Gospel – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.  Unfortunately these days that Good News seems to have been transmogrified into bad news, as in “How can we get political power so as to control other people?”  (That seems to be the perception anyway.  See e.g. Why are Christians so negative and judgemental? – RZIM Europe, Do Christians spend too much time being negative? – Christian …, and 5 Negative Effects of Complaining for Christians – Patrick’s ….)

Merton’s conversations about meditation and/or his interviews with Eastern “masters” were related in Monica Furlong’s Merton  A Biography, Harper and Row, 1980, at pages “xx” and 324-26. 

 

Finally, not all Roman Catholics are enamored of Merton’s spiritual explorations.  See for example, Can You Trust Thomas Merton? | Catholic Answers, which said that Merton was controversial and that some of his ideas were dangerous, then asked:  “where do his ideas become suspect?  Does he stray from Catholic orthodoxy?”

Which raises a good question:  If Jesus was “orthodox,” why aren’t we all still Jewish?

On the “Infinite Frog”

Leave a reply

Infinite Frogs

There actually IS a website for “infinite frogs. . .”

*   *   *   *

From the Scribe – 15 July 2014:

I just got back from a two-week vacation to New York City and Montreal, which included a round-trip on Amtrak’s Adirondack Route, “through the wine country of the Hudson Valley.”  (See On the Bible readings for July 13, “written in beautiful Montreal.”)

So anyway, last Sunday afternoon – July 13 – I was driving home on Interstate 81, through western Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, and talking on the phone* with Mi Dulce, who happened to take her two-week vacation at the same time (albeit in Cleveland Ohio).

This nice lady was saying something about getting some things back from her former life in Cleveland, which included what sounded like her Infinite Frog.    There followed a couple of definite say whats?   But as it turned out, this mi Dulce o’ mine was actually saying that she’d gotten her Infant of Prague back, which then became the seed thought for this blog-post.

The Infant Jesus of Prague . . . is a 16th-century Roman Catholic wax-coated wooden statue of child Jesus holding a globus cruciger, located in the Carmelite Church of Our Lady Victorious in Malá Strana, Prague, Czech Republic.  Pious legends state that the statue once belonged to Saint Teresa of Avila and allegedly holds miraculous powers, especially among expectant mothers.

See Infant Jesus of Prague – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.  (As was explained later, this statuette – also known as a “Child of Prague” –  was a gift from a former mother-in-law.)

As Wikipedia noted, thousands of pilgrims pay homage to the Infant of Prague every year, and statuettes of this “Infant Jesus are placed inside many Catholic churches, sometimes with the quotation, ‘The more you honor me, the more I will bless you.'”  Further, devotion to the “Child of Prague and belief in its power to influence the weather is still strong in many parts of Ireland. A wedding gift of a statue of the Child of Prague is particularly auspicious.”   (E.A.)

It further turns out that the basis for this adoration goes back four centuries:

In April 1639, the Swedish army began a siege of the city of Prague.  The frightened citizens hurried to the shrine of the Infant Jesus of Prague as services were held day and night at the Church of Our Lady Victorious in the Little Quarter.  When the [Swedish] army decided instead to pull out, the grateful residents ascribed this to the miraculous Holy Infant.  The tradition of the Infant Jesus procession and the coronation continues to this day.  This ceremony is the closing highlight of the annual Feast of the Infant Jesus in Prague.

All of which brings up the power of prayer (and there was no doubt a passel of prayer going on back in 1639 Prague).  It also brings up the different types of prayer.

As the Book of Common Prayer noted, “the principle kinds of prayer are adoration, praise, thanksgiving, penitence, oblation, intercession, and petition.”

Most people are more familiar with the petition type of prayer, basically translated, “Gimme, gimme, gimme!”   On the other hand, we’ve all had times in our lives when we’ve found ourselves in way over our heads, like those people of Prague in 1639, but that’s a totally different “petition.”  It also brings up the “thrilling drama” noted above, and Psalm 50:15:

Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall honor me.

Which is another way of saying that God loves drama.   So, if you expect to go from victory to victory when you begin your Christian Pilgrimage, you’re in for a big surprise.  (For one thing, drama makes a much better story to bore your grandchildren with.)

But all of this drama in your life can lead to the best, simplest and most appreciated-by-God type of prayer, adoration, “the lifting up of the heart and mind to God, asking nothing but to enjoy God’s presence.”  For more on that see On three suitors (a parable), and this prayer:

O God, if I worship Thee in fear of hell, burn me in hell;   if I worship Thee in hope of Paradise, exclude me from Paradise;   but if I worship Thee for Thine own sake, withhold not Thine everlasting beauty.

In the meantime, enjoy having learned about this Infinite Frog.

*   *   *   *

*   *   *   *

The upper image is courtesy of Infinite Frogs | Are We Full Yet? 

The lower image is courtesy of the article, Infant Jesus of Prague – Wikipedia, and includes the caption: “The elaborate shrine which houses the wax-wooden statue.  Church of Our Lady Victorious, Mala Strana, Prague, Czech Republic.”

The article includes a section on Vestments:

Several costly embroidered vestments have been donated by benefactors.  Among those donated are those from Empress Maria Theresa and Emperor Ferdinand I of Austria, which are preserved to this day.  A notable garment in the collection is an ermine cloak placed on the statue the first Sunday after Easter, which is the anniversary day of the coronation of the statue by the bishop of Prague in 1655.   In 1713 the clothing began to be changed according to the liturgical norms.  Other valuable garments worn by the image are vestments studded with various gemstones, embroidered with gold French bullion wire threading, and silk fabrics as well as handmade lace customised purposely for the statue.

The schedule includes Green for “Ordinary Time;” Purple for “Lent, Candlemas and Advent;” Red or Gold for Christmas and Easter; and Royal Blue for “Immaculate Conception / Feast of Assumption.”

*   *   *   *

As to Amtrak’s Adirondack Route, see Adirondack Trains Travel from New York City to Montreal, and/or Adirondack Route Guide – Amtrak.

*  As to “talking on the phone,” I was using the functional equivalent of Bluetooth.

As to adoration and the other types of prayer, see the Book of Common Prayer at pages 856-57, or The Online Book of Common Prayer, and/or The Catechism.