Apophthegmata Patrum | Theodore of Pherme and Nisterus: Everything You Do As A Commandment Of God Is The Work of the Soul

“A brother questioned him saying, ‘What is the work of the soul which we now consider to be subordinate, and what is that which was subordinate and which we now consider to be our chief work?’ The old man said, ‘Everything you do as a commandment of God is the work of the soul; but to work and to gather goods together for a personal motive ought to be held as subordinate.’ Then the brother said, ‘Explain this matter to me.’ So the old man said ‘Suppose you hear it said that I am ill and you ought to visit me; you say to yourself, ‘Shall I leave my work and go now? I had better finish my work and then go.’ Then another idea comes along and perhaps you never go; or again, another brother says to you, ‘Lend me a hand, brother’; and you say ‘Shall I leave my own work and go and work with him?’ If you do not go, you are disregarding the commandment of God which is the work of the soul, and doing the work of your hands which is subordinate.’”

– Theodore of Pherme

“Abba Nisterus said that a monk ought to ask himself every night and every morning, ‘What have we done that is as God wills and what have we left undone of that which he does not will?’ He must do this throughout his whole life.”

– Nisterus

Apophthegmata Patrum | Anthony the Great: "If I Bend My Bow So Much"

 


“A hunter in the desert saw Abba Anthony enjoying himself with the brethren and he was shocked. Wanting to show him that it was necessary sometimes to meet the needs of the brethren, the old man said to him, ‘Put an arrow in your bow and shoot it.’ So he did. The old man then said, ‘Shoot another,” and he did so. Then the old man said, ‘Shoot yet again,’ and the hunter replied ‘If I bend my bow so much I will break it.’ Then the old man said to him, ‘It is the same with the work of God. If we stretch the brethren beyond measure they will soon break. Sometimes it is necessary to come down to meet their needs.’ When he heard these words the hunter was pierced by compunction and, greatly edified by the old man, he went away. As for the brethren, they went home strengthened.”


Even St. Anthony the Great had to take a break and B.S. with his boys sometimes.

Apophthegmata Patrum | Agathon: Too Much Asceticism


“At one time Abba Agathon had two disciples each leading the anchoretic life according to his own measure. One day he asked the first, ‘How do you live in the cell?’ He replied, ‘I fast until the evening, then I eat two hard biscuits.’ He said to him, ‘Your way of life is good, not overburdened with too much asceticism.’”

This quotation shows that there were different ways of life, and different philosophies surrounding how much asceticism was beneficial in the thought of the Desert Fathers.

Apophthegmata Patrum | Anthony the Great, The Desert Fathers, and Asceticism



“He also said, ‘Always have the fear of God before your eyes. Remember him who gives life and death. Hate the world and all that is in it. Hate all peace that comes from the flesh. Renounce this life, so that you may be alive to God. Remember what you have promised God, for it will be required of you on the day of judgment. Suffer hunger, thirst, nakedness, be watchful and sorrowful; weep, and groan in your heart; test yourselves, to see if you are worthy of God; despise the flesh, so that you may preserve your souls.”

Anthony the Great


The severe asceticism of the Desert Fathers and some of their harsh language about “the world” (although this is likely hyperbole, cf. Jesus’ similar clearly hyperbolic statement in Luke 14:26) is what is most commonly offputting to those with a modern perspective, including myself. Many of these solitaries completely rejected society and practiced severe renunciation of any worldly comfort, living on the bare minimum of food, sleep, and physical comfort – pushing their bodies to their absolute limits. The story of Siddhartha Gautama (“the Buddha”) living on “a grain of rice a day,” wasting away by practicing asceticism, comes to mind.

In a sense, I feel like the Christian tradition, as a tradition, followed the same experiment as the Buddha, beginning in extreme self-denial of all comfort and eventually moderating that perspective (the Buddha developed and finally advocated for “the Middle Path”). For instance, the author of the Cloud of Unknowing (14th Century) says the following:


“Now if you ask me what sort of moderation you should observe in the contemplative work, I will tell you: none at all. In everything else, such as eating, drinking, and sleeping, moderation is the rule. Avoid extremes of heat and cold; guard against too much and too little in reading, prayer, or social involvement. In all these things, I say again, keep to the middle path. But in love take no measure. Indeed, I wish that you had never to cease from this work of love…

Perhaps by now you are wondering how to determine the proper mean in eating, drinking, sleeping, and the rest. I will answer you briefly: be content with what comes along. If you give yourself generously to the work of love, I feel sure you will know when to begin and end every other activity.”

I don’t believe that asceticism is core to the contemplative traditions as a whole. But what is a core theme in virtually all contemplative traditions is non-attachment. From a theistic perspective, one should find their life solely in God and not look to the “things of the world” for ultimate satisfaction. From this perspective one can only properly interact with people and things in the world when we aren’t attached to them – using them, at least partly, to fulfill our own needs. From a Buddhist perspective, suffering is a direct consequence of “attachment” or "craving” the things of the world.

The Desert Fathers practiced non-attachment by simply removing themselves from the world.

For those of us in society, removing ourselves completely isn’t an option. Instead, the focus turns to having a right relationship with the people and things in it. Modern monastics from the Christian tradition have likewise developed a different stance towards bodily asceticism and the proper monastic attitude to the world at large.



Apophthegmata Patrum | "Sayings of the Fathers"


Although one can find traces of certain forms of mysticism in the New Testament documents themselves, the Christian Contemplative Tradition is typically seen as having more substantial origins in the deserts of 3rd Century Egypt. As Christianity became the official religion of Rome, martyrdom, often thought to be the “most perfect way of following Christ,” became a relic of the past. As an alternative to literally dying for the faith, hermits like St. Anthony the Great (usually seen as the “first Christian monk”) entered the desert to live lives of radical simplicity and seek God in nearly complete solitude. Desert spirituality was characterized less by official meditative practice and more by a way of life – asceticism, internal (sometimes referred to as hesychast) and external silence, solitude, unceasing prayer, battling temptation, and seeking absolute obedience to one’s conscience before God. Many of the Apophthegmata Patrum (“Sayings of the Desert Fathers”) seem harsh in retrospect, even to those of later developed Christian monasticism, but these original Christian monks were performing the first experiments in monastic and solitary life within their tradition. Many of their excesses, especially in regards to severe asceticism, would be moderated as the tradition developed.

The Apophthegmata Patrum have been passed down in multiple forms in both the Christian West and the Christian East. I will be sharing some quotations from The Sayings of the Desert Fathers (Alphabetical version). I don’t find everything in these sayings to be edifying, and they were people of their time just as we are people of our time, but I certainly resonate with the impulse of these original Christian monks towards the value of solitude.


"The Koran and the Talmud, the Bible and the Avesta, the Darshanas and the Analects praise silence. Religions are at one in teaching that, without quiet, the roots of piety will at best be shallow. The idea that God speaks not with the wind or the earthquake or the fire but with a still, small voice is a commonplace; it is general religious wisdom. In all places and at all times those longing to touch another world have instinctively known what to do – enter a desert, climb a mountain, join a hermitage."

– Dale Allison, The Luminous Dusk

Retreats

I recently went on a 48 hour silent retreat. This Catholic facility provides unstructured retreats, simply giving you a hermitage (a heated one bedroom cabin in the woods with a chair, a bed, a basket of bread, and some fruit) and a chance to be silent.

My experience on these types of retreats is that I tend to get “clear” on things I need to get clear on. Regardless of how one interprets it, in silence and solitude there is often a conscious experience of what many describe as a deeper, more authoritative, or clarifying voice. Maybe that’s the voice of God; maybe it is your own deepest self. Maybe it’s “the part of me that is in tune with The Ultimate.” I don’t know. But it heals and it directs. At least that has been my experience when I go off to be alone.

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: New Life


In this final quotation, St. Teresa begins to describe what the soul’s new life is like after the experience of Union. Other traditions have their own way of talking about the change that comes through unitive experience – Self-Realization, Buddha Nature, “selfless-self,” etc. The primary characteristic of the new, transformed self, is that it operates without a concern for fulfilling personal self-will. It lives for the Ultimate Good – the “will of God” – and is at peace, unconcerned with obtaining personal gain from anything in the world.

“As we are saying, then, this little butterfly has now died, full of joy at having found rest, and within her lives Christ. Let us see what her new life is like, and how different it is from her earlier one, for it is by the effects which result from this prayer that we shall know if what has been said is true. As far as I can understand, the effects are these.

First, there is a self-forgetfulness which is so complete that it really seems as though the soul no longer existed…”


I will leave the rest for you to explore in the Interior Castle.


St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: When Our Lord Brings The Soul Into This Mansion

 

“When Our Lord brings the soul into this Mansion of His, which is the centre of the soul itself, it seems, on entering, to be subject to none of the usual movements of the faculties and the imagination, which injure it and take away its peace.”


Yoga, Vedanta, “the stilling of the mind.” The parallels here (and throughout St. Teresa’s writings) are obvious.

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Seventh Mansion, Nothing But Water


In this passage, St. Teresa famously describes the Seventh Mansion, Union, as “water in water.”



“…here it is like rain falling from the heavens into a river or a spring; there is nothing but water there and it is impossible to divide or separate the water belonging to the river from that which fell from the heavens. Or it is as if a tiny streamlet enters the sea, from which it will find no way of separating itself, or as if in a room there were two large windows through which the light streamed in: it enters in different places but all becomes one.”

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Locutions


The term “locution” is typically used to describe supposed “messages from God” experienced through prayer. Monastics from the Catholic tradition interpret their spiritual experience theistically, thus “messages from God” are seen to be at least in the realm of possibility. This type of spiritual experience seems to me to be similar to Quaker Inner Listening. The language surrounding this type of experience is often nuanced, and many Quakers, for instance, are hesitant to speak of a “voice from God,” but may talk about a deeper voice or leading. This can be interpreted as coming from the depths of the individual, from the Divine, or in a host of other ways. Regardless, the experience of a leading or deeper/more authoritative voice in one’s conscious experience is a common part of the spiritual journey for those from theistic faiths. Personally, I have had similar experiences to what St. Teresa describes here during my practice of Centering Prayer. I don’t always know how I myself interpret these things.

In this passage, Teresa speaks about ways to determine if these locutions are authentic or not.

“There is another way in which God awakens the soul, and which, although in some respects it seems a greater favour than others, may also be more perilous. For this reason I will spend a short time describing it. This awakening of the soul is effected by means of locutions, which are of many kinds. Some of them seem to come from without; others from the innermost depths of the soul; others from its higher part; while others, again, are so completely outside the soul that they can be heard with our ears, and seem to be uttered by a human voice…

To return, then, to our first point: whether they come from within, from above or from without, has nothing to do with their coming from God. The surest signs that one can have of their coming are, in my opinion, as follows. The first and truest sign is the sense of power and authority which they bear with them. I will explain myself further. A soul is experiencing all the interior disturbances and tribulations which have been described, and all the aridity and darkness of the understanding. A single word of this kind – just a “Be not troubled” – is sufficient to calm it. No other word need be spoken; a great light comes to it; and all its trouble is lifted from it although it had been thinking that, if the whole world, and all the learned men in the world, were to combine to give it reasons for not being troubled, they could not relieve it from distress, however hard they might strive to do so…

The second sign is that a great tranquillity dwells in the soul, which becomes peacefully and devoutly recollected, and ready to sing praises to God. Oh, Lord, if there is such power in a word sent by one of Thy messengers what power wilt Thou not leave in the soul that is bound to Thee, as art Thou to it, by love.

The third sign is that these words do not vanish from the memory for a very long time: some indeed never vanish at all.”


The first of these signs – the authoritative nature of the locution – stands out to me. The word or phrase experienced seems to have the power in itself to effect change in the individual who experiences it, even if they have not been able to effect the change in themselves through logical reasoning or other methods. Teresa goes on to discuss locutions which are not authentic.

Different monastics place differing amounts of importance on these types of phenomena.

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Prayer of Union Changing Silkworm to Butterfly

 

“Chapter Introduction (from St. Teresa): Continues the same subject. Explains the Prayer of Union by a delicate comparison. Describes the effects which it produces in the soul. Should be studied with great care.”

“You will suppose that all there is to be seen in this Mansion has been described already, but there is much more to come yet, for, as I said, some receive more and some less. With regard to the nature of union, I do not think I can say anything further; but when the soul to which God grants these favours prepares itself for them, there are many things to be said concerning what the Lord works in it. Some of these I shall say now, and I shall describe that soul’s state. In order the better to explain this, I will make use of a comparison which is suitable for the purpose; and which will also show us how, although this work is performed by the Lord, and we can do nothing to make His Majesty grant us this favour, we can do a great deal to prepare ourselves for it.

You have heard of the wonderful way in which silk is made – a way which no one could invent but God – and how it comes from a kind of seed which looks like tiny peppercorns. When the warm weather comes, and the mulberry trees begin to show leaf, this seed starts to take life; until it has this sustenance, on which it feeds, it is dead. The silkworms feed on the mulberry leaves until they are full grown, when people put down twigs, upon which, with their tiny mouths, they start spinning silk, making themselves very tight little cocoons, in which they bury themselves. Then, finally, the worm, which was large and ugly, comes right out of the cocoon a beautiful white butterfly.

Now if no one had ever seen this, and we were only told about it as a story of past ages, who would believe it? And what arguments could we find to support the belief that a thing as devoid of reason as a worm or a bee could be diligent enough to work so industriously for our advantage, and that in such an enterprise the poor little worm would lose its life? This alone, sisters, even if I tell you no more, is sufficient for a brief meditation, for it will enable you to reflect upon the wonders and wisdom of our God. What, then, would it be if we knew the properties of everything? It will be a great help to us if we occupy ourselves in thinking of these wonderful things and rejoice in being the brides of so wise and powerful a King.

But to return to what I was saying. The silkworm is like the soul which takes life when, through the heat which comes from the Holy Spirit, it begins to utilize the general help which God gives to us all, and to make use of the remedies which He left in His Church – such as frequent confessions, good books and sermons, for these are the remedies of a soul dead in negligences and sins and frequently plunged into temptation. The soul begins to live and nourishes itself on this food, and on good meditations, until it is fully grown – and this is what concerns me now: the rest is of little importance.

When it is full grown, then, as I wrote at the beginning, it starts to spin its silk and to build the house in which it is to die. This house may be understood here to mean Christ. I think I read or heard somewhere that our life is hid in Christ, or in God (for that is the same thing), or that our life is Christ (the exact form of this is little to my purpose.).

Here, then, daughters, you see what we can do, with God’s favour. May His Majesty Himself be our Mansion as He is in this Prayer of Union which, as it were, we ourselves spin. When I say He will be our Mansion, and we can construct it for ourselves and hide ourselves in it, I seem to be suggesting that we can subtract from God, or add to Him. But of course we cannot possibly do that! We can neither subtract from God, nor add to, God, but we can subtract from, and add to, ourselves, just as these little silkworms do. And, before we have finished doing all that we can in that respect, God will take this tiny achievement of ours, which is nothing at all, unite it with His greatness and give it such worth that its reward will be the Lord Himself. And as it is He Whom it has cost the most, so His Majesty will unite our small trials with the great trials which He suffered, and make both of them into one.

Oh, then, my daughters! Let us hasten to perform this task and spin this cocoon. Let us renounce our self-love, and self-will, and our attachment to earthly things. Let us practice penance, prayer, mortification, obedience, and all the other good works that you know of. Let us do what we have been taught; and we have been instructed about what our duty is. Let the silkworm die – let it die, as in fact it does when it has completed the work which it was created to do. Then we shall see God and shall ourselves be as completely hidden in His greatness as is this little worm in its cocoon. Note that, when I speak of seeing God, I am referring to the way in which, as I have said, He allows himself to be apprehended in this kind of union.

And now let us see what becomes of this silkworm, for all that I have been saying about it is leading up to this. When it is in this state of prayer, and quite dead to the world, it comes out a little white butterfly. Oh, greatness of God, that a soul should come out like this after being hidden in the greatness of God, and closely united with Him, for so short a time – never, I think, for as long as half an hour! I tell you truly, the very soul does not know itself. For think of the difference between an ugly worm and a white butterfly; it is just the same here. The soul cannot think how it can have merited such a blessing – whence such a blessing could have come to it, I meant to say, for it knows quite well that it has not merited it at all. It finds itself so anxious to praise the Lord that it would gladly be consumed and die a thousand deaths for His sake. Then it finds itself longing to suffer great trials and unable to do otherwise. It has the most vehement desires for penance, for solitude, and for all to know God. And hence, when it sees God being offended, it becomes greatly distressed. In the following Mansion we shall treat of these things further and in detail, for, although the experiences of this Mansion and of the next are almost identical, their effects come to have much greater power; for, as I have said, if after God comes to a soul here on earth it strives to progress still more, it will experience great things.

To see, then, the restlessness of this little butterfly – though it has never been quieter or more at rest in its life! Here is something to praise God for – namely, that it knows not where to settle and make its abode. By comparison with the abode it has had, everything it sees on earth leaves it dissatisfied, especially when God has again and again given it this wine which almost very time has brought it some new blessing. It sets no store by the things it did when it was a worm – that is, by its gradual weaving of the cocoon. It has wings now: how can it be content to crawl along slowly when it is able to fly? All that is can do for God seems to it slight by comparison to its desires. It even attaches little importance to what the saints endured, knowing by experience how the Lord helps and transforms a soul, so that it seems no longer to be itself, or even its own likeness.”

The Age of Noise

 

"The twentieth century is, among other things, the Age of Noise. Physical noise, mental noise and noise of desire— we hold history’s record for all of them. And no wonder; for all the resources of our almost miraculous technology have been thrown into the current assault against silence. That most popular and influential of all recent inventions, the radio, is nothing but a conduit through which pre-fabricated din can flow into our homes. And this din goes far deeper, of course, than the ear-drums. It penetrates the mind, filling it with a babel of distractions— news items, mutually irrelevant bits of information, blasts of corybantic or sentimental music, continually repeated doses of drama that bring no catharsis, but merely create a craving for daily or even hourly emotional enemas. And where, as in most countries, the broadcasting stations support themselves by selling time to advertisers, the noise is carried from the ears, through the realms of phantasy, knowledge and feeling to the ego’s central core of wish and desire. Spoken or printed, broadcast over the ether or on wood-pulp, all advertising copy has but one purpose— to prevent the will from ever achieving silence. Desirelessness is the condition of deliverance and illumination. The condition of an expanding and technologically progressive system of mass production is universal craving. Advertising is the organized effort to extend and intensify craving— to extend and intensify, that is to say, the workings of that force, which (as all the saints and teachers of all the higher religions have always taught) is the principal cause of suffering and wrong-doing and the greatest obstacle between the human soul and its divine Ground."

 

Half of the battle is just turning off the radio, the TV, the podcasts. I’m really trying to drastically reduce all of that. Drive in silence. Read. Walk without listening to a podcast. Most of the time we can’t even hear ourselves think. The real solutions to our problems need to come from within. We usually already know what we need to know.

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Certainty of Union



In this passage, Teresa discusses the soul’s certainty after it has experienced the “Prayer of Union.” In Interior Castle, Teresa uses various terms to roughly describe deepening experiences of passive prayer – sometimes referred to as contemplation or infused contemplation in the Catholic Tradition. Up to this point in the work her progression has been Prayer of Recollection > Prayer of Quiet (also called “Consolations”) > Prayer of Union. Catholic mystics of this period do not seem to be systematic about their descriptions in this regard, and terminology can sometimes be interchangeable or hazy. It may be helpful to think of these authors as grasping for language to describe their experience, which they often claim is ineffable or indescribable.

“Turning now to the indication which I have described as a decisive one: here is a soul which God has made, as it were, completely foolish in order the better to impress upon it true wisdom. For as long as a soul is in this state, it can neither see nor hear nor understand: the period is always short and seems to the soul shorter than it really is. God implants Himself in the interior of that soul is such a way that, when it returns to itself, it cannot possibly doubt that God has been in it and it has been in God; so firmly does this truth remain within it that, although for years God may never grant it that favour again, it can neither forget it nor doubt that it has received it (and this quite apart from the effects which remain within it, and of which I will speak later). The certainty of the soul is very material.

But now you will say to me: How did the soul see it and understand it if it can neither see nor understand? I am not saying that it saw it at the time, but that it sees it clearly afterwards, and not because if it is a vision (sic), but because of a certainty which remains in the soul, which can be put there only by God…

How, you will ask, can we become so convinced of what we have not seen? That I do not know; it is the work of God. But I know I am speaking the truth; and if anyone has not that certainty, I should say that what he has experienced is not union of the whole soul with God…”

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: Prayer of Quiet/Consolations – Water from the Source

 

“What I call consolations from God, and elsewhere have termed the Prayer of Quiet, is something of a very different kind, as those of you will know who by the mercy of God have experienced it. To understand it better, let us suppose that we are looking at two fountains, the basins of which can be filled with water. There are certain spiritual things which I can find no way of explaining more aptly than by this element of water; for, as I am very ignorant, and my wits give me no help, and I am so fond of this element. I have observed it more attentively than anything else. In all the things that have been created by so great and wise a God there must be many secrets by which we can profit, and those who understand them do profit by them, although I believe that in every little thing created by God there is more than we realize, even in so small a thing as a tiny ant.

These two large basins can be filed with water in different ways: the water in the one comes from a long distance, by means of numerous conduits and through human skill; but the other has been constructed at the very source of the water and fills without making any noise. If the flow of the water is abundant, as in the case we are speaking of, a great stream still runs from it after it has been filled; no skill is necessary here, and no conduits have to be made, for the water is flowing all the time. The difference between this and the carrying of the water by means of conduits is, I think, as follows. The latter corresponds to the spiritual sweetness which, as I say, is produced by meditation. It reaches us by way of the thoughts; we meditate upon created things and fatigue the understanding; and when at last, by means of our own efforts, it comes, the satisfaction which it brings to the soul fills the basin, but in doing so makes a noise, as I have said.

To the other fountain the water comes direct from its source, which is God, and, when it is His Majesty’s will and He is pleased to grant us some supernatural favour, its coming is accompanied by the greatest peace and quietness and sweetness within ourselves – I cannot say where it arises or how. And that content and delight are not felt, as earthly delights are felt, in the heart – I mean not at the outset, for later the basin becomes completely filled, and then this water begins to overflow all the Mansions and faculties, until it reaches the body. It is for that reason that I said it has its source in God and ends in ourselves – for it is certain, and anyone will know this who has experienced it, that the whole of the outer man enjoys this consolation and sweetness.

I was thinking just now, as I wrote this, that a verse which I have already quoted, Dilatasti cor meum, speaks of the heart’s being enlarged. I do not think that the happiness has its source in the heart at all. It arises in a much more interior part, like something of which the springs are very deep; I think this must be the centre of the soul, as I have since realized and as I will explain hereafter. I certainly find secret things in ourselves which often amaze me – and how many more there must be! O my Lord and my God! How wonderous is Thy greatness! And we creatures go about like silly little shepherd boys, thinking we are learning to know something of Thee when the very most we can know amounts to nothing at all, for even in ourselves there are deep secrets which we cannot fathom. When I say “amounts to nothing at all” I mean because Thou art so surpassingly great, not because the signs of greatness that we see in Thy works are not very wonderful, even considering how little we know of them.

Returning to this verse, what it says about the enlargement of the heart may, I think, be of help to us. For apparently, as this heavenly water begins to flow from this source of which I am speaking – that is from our very depths – it proceeds to spread within us and cause an interior dilation and produce ineffable blessings, so that the soul itself cannot understand all that it receives there. The fragrance it experiences, we might say, is as if in those interior depths there were a brazier on which were cast sweet perfumes; the light cannot be seen, nor the place where it dwells, but the fragrant smoke and the heat penetrate the entire soul, and very often, as I have said, the effects extend even to the body. Observe – and understand me here – that no heat is felt, nor is any fragrance perceived: it is a more delicate thing than that; I only put it in that way so that you may understand it. People who have not experienced it must realize that it does in very truth happen; its occurrence is capable of being perceived, and the soul becomes aware of it more clearly than these words of mine can express it. For it is not a thing that we can fancy, nor, however hard we strive, can we acquire it, and from that very fact it is clear that it is a thing made, not of human metal, but of the purest gold of Divine wisdom. In this state the faculties are not, I think, in union, but they become absorbed and are amazed as they consider what is happening to them.

It may be that in writing of these interior things I am contradicting what I have myself said elsewhere. This is not surprising, for almost fifteen years have passed since then, and perhaps the Lord has now given be a clearer realization of these matters than I had at first. Both then and now, of course, I may be mistaken in all this, but I cannot lie about it: by the mercy of God I would rather die a thousand deaths: I am speaking of it just as I understand it.

The will certainly seems to me to be united in some way with the will of God; but it is by the effects of this prayer and the actions which follow it that the genuineness of the experience must be tested and there is no better crucible for doing so than this. If the person who receives such a grace recognizes it for what it is, Our Lord is granting him a surpassingly great favour, and another very great one if he does not turn back. You will desire, then, my daughters, to strive to attain this way of prayer…”

St. Teresa of Avila | Interior Castle: I Began to Think of the Soul

 


“I began to think of the soul as if it were a castle made of a single diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions. Now if we think carefully over this, sisters, the soul of the righteous man is nothing but a paradise, in which, as God tells us, He takes His delight…

Let us now imagine that this castle, as I have said, contains many mansions, some above, others below, others at each side; and in the centre and midst of them all is the chiefest mansion where the most secret things pass between God and the soul.”