Life of St Teresa of Jesus by Teresa of Avila (e ink epub reader TXT) 📕

anything of the kind knowingly. I am resolved never to leave

undone anything I may consider to be the more perfect, or more

for the honour of our Lord, if he who has the care of my soul and

directs me tells me I may do it. Cost me what pain it might, I

would not leave such an act undone for all the treasure of the

world. If I were to do so, I do not think I could have the face

to ask anything of God our Lord, or to make my prayer; and yet,

for all this, I have many faults and imperfections. I am

obedient to my confessor, [5] though imperfectly; but if I know

that he wishes or commands anything, I would not leave that

undone, so far as I understand it; if I did so, I should think

myself under a grievous delusion.

10. I have a longing for poverty, though not free from

imperfection; however, I believe, if I had wealth, I would not

reserve any revenue, nor hoard money for myself, nor do I care

for it; I wish to have only what is necessary. Nevertheless, I

feel that I am very defective in this virtue; for, though I

desire nothing for myself, I should like to have something to

give away: still, I desire no revenue, nor anything

for myself. [6]

11. In almost all the visions I have had, I have found good, if

it be not a delusion of Satan; herein I submit myself to the

judgment of my confessors.

12. As to fine and beautiful things, such as water, fields,

perfume, music, etc., I think I would rather not have them, so

great is the difference between them and what I am in the habit

of seeing, and so all pleasure in them is gone from me. [7]

Hence it is that I care not for them, unless it be at the first

sight: they never make any further impression; to me they seem

but dirt.

13. If I speak or converse with people in the world—for I cannot

help it—even about prayer, and if the conversation be long,

though to pass away the time, I am under great constraint if it

be not necessary, for it gives me much pain.

14. Amusements, of which I used to be fond, and worldly things,

are all disagreeable to me now, and I cannot look at them.

15. The longings, which I said I have, [8] of loving and serving

and seeing God, are not helped by any reflections, as formerly,

when I thought I was very devout, and shed many tears; but they

flow out of a certain fire and heat so excessive that, I repeat

it, if God did not relieve them by throwing me into a trance,

wherein the soul seems to find itself satisfied, I believe my

life would come to an end at once.

16. When I see persons making great progress, and thus resolved,

detached, and courageous, I love them much; and I should like to

have my conversation with such persons, and I think they help me

on. People who are afraid, and seemingly cautious in those

things, the doing of which is perfectly reasonable here, seem to

vex me, and drive me to pray to God and the saints to make them

undertake such things as these which now frighten us. Not that I

am good for anything myself, but because I believe that God helps

those who, for His sake, apply themselves to great things, and

that He never abandons any one who puts his trust in Him only.

And I should like to find any one who would help me to believe

so, and to be without thought about food and raiment, but leave

it all in the hands of God. [9]

17. This leaving in the hands of God the supply of all I need is

not to be understood as excluding all labour on my part, but

merely solicitude—I mean, the solicitude of care. And since I

have attained to this liberty, it goes well with me, and I labour

to forget myself as much as I can. I do not think it is a year

ago since our Lord gave me this liberty.

18. Vainglory [10]—glory, be to God!—so far as I know, there is

no reason why I should have any; for I see plainly that in these

things which God sends me I have no part myself; on the contrary,

God makes me conscious of my own wretchedness; for whatever

reflections I might be able to make, I could never come to the

knowledge of such deep truths as I attain to in a single rapture.

19. When I speak of these things a few days after, they seem to

me as if they had happened to another person. Previously, I

thought it a wrong to me that they should be known to others; but

I see now that I am not therefore any the better, but rather

worse, seeing that I make so little progress after receiving

mercies so great. And certainly, in every way, it seems to me

that there was not in the world anybody worse than myself; and so

the virtues of others seem to me much more meritorious than mine,

and that I do nothing myself but receive graces, and that God

must give to others at once all that He is now giving unto me;

and I pray Him not to reward me in this life; and so I believe

that God has led me along this way because I am weak and wicked.

20. When I am in prayer, and even almost always when I am able to

reflect at all, I cannot, even if I tried, pray to God for rest,

or desire it; for I see that His life was one of suffering, and

that I ask Him to send me, giving me first the grace to bear it.

21. Everything of this kind, and of the highest perfection, seems

to make so deep an impression on me in prayer, that I am amazed

at the sight of truths so great and so clear that the things of

the world seem to be folly; and so it is necessary for me to take

pains to reflect on the way I demeaned myself formerly in the

things of the world, for it seems to me folly to feel for deaths

and the troubles of the world,—at least, that sorrow for, or

love of, kindred and friends should last long. I say I have to

take pains when I am considering what I was, and what I used to

feel.

22. If I see people do anything which clearly seems to be sin, I

cannot make up my mind that they have offended God; and if I

dwell upon this at all,—which happens rarely or never,—I never

can make up my mind, though I see it plainly enough. It seems to

me that everybody is as anxious to serve God as I am. And herein

God has been very gracious unto me, for I never dwell on an evil

deed, to remember it afterwards and if I do remember it, I see

some virtue or other in that person. In this way these things

never weary me, except generally: but heresies do; they distress

me very often, and almost always when I think of them they seem

to me to be the only trouble which should be felt. And also I

feel, when I see people who used to give themselves to prayer

fall away; this gives me pain, but not much, because I strive not

to dwell upon it.

23. I find, also, that I am improved in the matter of that

excessive neatness which I was wont to observe, [11] though not

wholly delivered from it. I do not discern that I am always

mortified in this; sometimes, however, I do.

24. All this I have described, together with a very constant

dwelling in thought on God, is the ordinary state of my soul, so

far as I can understand it. And if I must be busy about

something else, without my seeking it, as I said before, [12] I

know not who makes me awake,—and this not always, only when I am

busy with things of importance; and such—glory be to God!—only

at intervals demand my attention, and do not occupy me at

all times.

25. For some days—they are not many, however—for three, or

four, or five, all my good and fervent thoughts, and my visions,

seem to be withdrawn, yea, even forgotten, so that, if I were to

seek for it, I know of no good that can ever have been in me. It

seems to have been all a dream, or, at least, I can call nothing

to mind. Bodily pains at the same time distress me.

My understanding is troubled, so that I cannot think at all about

God, neither do I know under what law I live. If I read

anything, I do not understand it; I seem to be full of faults,

and without any resolution whatever to practise virtue; and the

great resolution I used to have is come to this, that I seem to

be unable to resist the least temptation or slander of the world.

It suggests itself to me then that I am good for nothing, if any

one would have me undertake more than the common duties. I give

way to sadness, thinking I have deceived all those who trusted me

at all. I should like to hide myself where nobody could see me;

but my desire for solitude arises from want of courage, not from

love of virtue. It seems to me that I should like to dispute

with all who contradict me; I am under the influence of these

impressions, only God has been so gracious unto me, that I do not

offend more frequently than I was wont to do, nor do I ask Him to

deliver me from them, but only, if it be His will I should always

suffer thus, to keep me from offending Him; and I submit myself

to His will with my whole heart, and I see that it is a very

great grace bestowed upon me that He does not keep me constantly

in this state.

26. One thing astonishes me; it is that, while I am in this

state, through a single word of those I am in the habit of

hearing, or a single vision, or a little self-recollection,

lasting but an Ave Maria, or through my drawing near to

communicate, I find my soul and body so calm, so sound, the

understanding so clear, and myself possessing all the strength

and all the good desires I usually have. And this I have had

experience of very often—at least when I go to Communion; it is

more than six months ago that I felt a clear improvement in my

bodily health, [13] and that occasionally brought about through

raptures, and I find it last sometimes more than three hours, at

other times I am much stronger for a whole day; and I do not

think it is fancy, for I have considered the matter, and

reflected on it. Accordingly, when I am thus recollected, I fear

no illness. The truth is, that when I pray, as I was accustomed

to do before, I feel no improvement.

27. All these things of which I am speaking make me believe that

it comes from God; for when I see what I once was, that I was in

the way of being lost, and that soon, my soul certainly is

astonished at these things,