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Hudspith, Harri F
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Getting into her Habit/Practice-to-Practice
Mapping Teresa of Avila’s Mystical Landscape
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Getting into her Habit/Practice-to-Practice:
Mapping Teresa of Avila’s Mystical Landscape
Harri Hudspith
A dissertation submitted to the University of Bristol in accordance with the requirements for
award of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Faculty of Arts.
School of Humanities December 2022
Word count: 85,844
1
Abstract
This research explores how an emulative and practice-based approach can develop a closer understanding
of the mysticism of Teresa of Avila. Drawing upon her mystical practice of recogimiento and the inherent
visuality of her texts, this thesis seeks to map the psychological form and function of her soul and its
relationship with language, word, and image. To do it so presents an innovative methodology for reading
her texts which asks: what new vision of Teresa’s mysticism can be developed by approaching her texts
in an emulative parallel to the way in which she approached the Divine through Scripture?
Drawing upon the centrality of imitatio and meditative visualisation within Teresa’s practice of
recogimiento, this parallel emulation focuses upon her textual imagery as an interface for “entering-into”
and exploring the mystical topography of her soul and is performed through my artistic practice. This
practice weaves together feminist philosophy, visual culture, religion, language, and psychoanalysis into
an interdisciplinary lens through which to approach Teresa’s texts through drawing, performance,
dialogue, painting, and sculpture. This novel “practice-to-practice” approach draws together key aspects
of Teresa’s practice and the creative and interdisciplinary perspectives of my practice to navigate the
mystical landscape that lies beyond the threshold of her texts. From this embodied position the thesis
traces the function of language within her mysticism – both for Teresa the writer, and Teresa the reader -,
and looks to map the functional structure of her soul through notions of word, image, and vision. The
resulting map reveals a pattern of word and image that characterises both her practice of recogimiento and
the nature of the soul itself. In doing so this project demonstrates how Fine Art practice can function as a
methodology for interdisciplinary research.
2
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Prof. Carolyn Muessig and Dr David Leech for their (unending) insight,
expertise, and enthusiasm. Thank you for your support and guidance throughout the drawing of this
map, I could not have hoped for better supervisors. I am also greatly indebted to the University of
Bristol for their Faculty of Arts Scholarship, without which this PhD would not have been possible.
My thanks also go to my parents and friends for their confidence and support, and to Tom Finch for
tolerating the Teresian ‘third wheel’ in our relationship.
3
Author’s Declaration
I declare that the work in this dissertation was carried out in accordance with the requirements of the
University's Regulations and Code of Practice for Research Degree Programmes and that it has not
been submitted for any other academic award. Except where indicated by specific reference in the
text, the work is the candidate's own work. Work done in collaboration with, or with the assistance
of, others, is indicated as such. Any views expressed in the dissertation are those of the author.
SIGNED: Harri Hudspith DATE: 9 December 2022
4
Table of Contents
List of Figures ................................................................................................................................ 8

Introduction: Mysticism versus the Mystical: Practical Issues .................................................. 10
Mysticism and/in Language .................................................................................................................. 12
Mysticism as Practice ............................................................................................................................ 22
Defining female mysticism(s) ................................................................................................................ 26
Map Structure ........................................................................................................................................ 33
Chapter 1: Practice-to-Practice ................................................................................................... 37
“I never dared to begin to pray without a book;” .............................................................................. 44
Traversing the castle.............................................................................................................................. 50
Mapping the castle ................................................................................................................................. 52
Mapping through imitation .................................................................................................................. 57
Guides to follow...................................................................................................................................... 59
A practice-based approach ................................................................................................................... 63
Part 1: Getting into her practice .......................................................................................................... 72
Part 2: Getting into her habit ............................................................................................................... 74
Part 3: Mapping the habit ..................................................................................................................... 85
The Map and the Habit ......................................................................................................................... 89
Summary ................................................................................................................................................ 89
Chapter 2: Teresa the reader and the umbilical role of language ............................................. 91
Umbilical................................................................................................................................................. 95
A Language of Seeing ............................................................................................................................ 99
A Seeing of Language .......................................................................................................................... 108
A language of transformation ............................................................................................................. 109
Language and/of image ....................................................................................................................... 115
“A veritable twin of Christ”................................................................................................................ 122
Word-Image/Image-Word .................................................................................................................. 125
Umbilicoil.............................................................................................................................................. 129
A nod to the ineffable .......................................................................................................................... 132
Summary .............................................................................................................................................. 137
Chapter 3: Location, Location, Location: towards a si(gh)te of the soul ............................... 139
5
A Body of Architecture ....................................................................................................................... 141
The si(gh)te of the soul ........................................................................................................................ 145
Recogimiento as si(gh)ting the Soul ................................................................................................... 162
Summary .............................................................................................................................................. 171
Chapter 4: Made, or making, in the image: the structure of the soul ..................................... 174
Entendiendo Él sin el entendimiento.................................................................................................. 178
Memoria................................................................................................................................................ 188
La tuya por la Suya.............................................................................................................................. 193
Via Spiritus ........................................................................................................................................... 200
Summary .............................................................................................................................................. 212
Interlude: Deconstructing the castle, re-constructing the soul ................................................ 214
Summary .............................................................................................................................................. 230
Chapter 5: The senso-reality of Teresa’s mysticism ................................................................. 232
Paternal Reflections ............................................................................................................................. 232
In one sense (or two?) .......................................................................................................................... 238
A taste of understanding ..................................................................................................................... 245
Just a touch ........................................................................................................................................... 256
Analogy, metaphor, or more? ............................................................................................................. 267
Chapter 6: Speech and Writing: Teresa the Writer .................................................................. 271
Written from experience ..................................................................................................................... 275
Who is speaking? ................................................................................................................................. 278
“I is an amassment of others.” ............................................................................................................ 286
Writing as self-realisation ................................................................................................................... 294
An appropriate voice ........................................................................................................................... 301
Experience in, of and through language ............................................................................................ 310
Summary .............................................................................................................................................. 313
Conclusion: Reflections (and/on) Recollections ....................................................................... 315
Re-collecting the ‘map’........................................................................................................................ 315
Paths of Recollection............................................................................................................................ 319
The edge of the map ............................................................................................................................. 322
Final word............................................................................................................................................. 324
Glossary ...................................................................................................................................... 326
6
References .................................................................................................................................. 331
Appendix ..................................................................................................................................... 355
7
List of Figures
Figure 1: Gian Lorenzo Bernini, The Ecstasy of St Teresa, 1642-52, marble, Santa Maria della Vittoria,
Rome. Image credit: Liviano Andronico, Cornaro Chapel in Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome, 2015,
photograph. .................................................................................................................................................. 10
Figure 2: Practice Diagram .......................................................................................................................... 65
Figure 3: Practice-to-Practice Approach...................................................................................................... 71
Figure 4: Hans Burgkmair the Elder, Santa Croce, Mitteltafel: Christus am Kreuz, 1504, oil on board,
Bavarian State Painting Collection, Munich. One of the Augsburg Basilikabilder. ................................... 79
Figure 5: Getting into Her Habit Exhibition Map ....................................................................................... 88
Figure 6: Harri Hudspith, ¿Teresa, me oyes?, 2018, photograph. ............................................................. 355
Figure 7: Harri Hudspith, Lectio Divina, 2019, sketchbook...................................................................... 356
Figure 8: Harri Hudspith, Lectio Divina, 2019, sketchbook...................................................................... 357
Figure 9: Harri Hudspith, Cellular, 2019, ink on paper. ........................................................................... 358
Figure 10: Harri Hudspith, Crystalline, 2019, ink on paper. ..................................................................... 359
Figure 11: Harri Hudspith, Umbilicoil, 2019, ink on paper....................................................................... 360
Figure 12: Harri Hudspith, A Body of Moradas, 2020, ink on paper. ....................................................... 361
Figure 13: Harri Hudspith, Imitatio, 2020, graphite on paper. .................................................................. 362
Figure 14: Harri Hudspith, Árbol del Alma, 2021, graphite on paper. ...................................................... 363
Figure 15: Harri Hudspith, Árbol de la Vida, 2020, graphite on paper. .................................................... 364
Figure 16: Harri Hudspith, Words made Flesh, 2019, oil on canvas......................................................... 365
Figure 19: Harri Hudspith, Incar(cer/n)ation, 2020, clay and wood......................................................... 368
Figure 20: Harri Hudspith, Incar(cer/n)ation, 2020, clay and wood......................................................... 369
Figure 21: Harri Hudspith, Ávila, 2021, collage with oil and photographs. .............................................. 376
Figure 22: Harri Hudspith, Medina del Campo, 2021, collage with oil and photographs......................... 377
Figure 23: Harri Hudspith, Valladolid, 2021, collage with oil and photographs. ..................................... 378
Figure 24: Harri Hudspith, Toledo, 2021, collage with oil and photographs. ........................................... 379
Figure 25: Harri Hudspith, Salamanca, 2021, collage with oil and photographs. .................................... 380
Figure 26: Harri Hudspith, Alba de Tormes, 2021, collage with oil and photographs. ............................. 381
Figure 27: Harri Hudspith, Segovia, 2021, collage with oil and photographs........................................... 382
Figure 28: Harri Hudspith, 3D Collage, 2021, cardboard. ........................................................................ 383
Figure 35: Harri Hudspith, 3D Drawing, 2022, graphite on paper............................................................ 390
Figure 41: Harri Hudspith, Recollecting Recollection, 2022, reclaimed wood. Exhibited at Seething
Church, March 2022. ................................................................................................................................. 396
8
Church, March 2022. ................................................................................................................................. 397
Church, March 2022. ................................................................................................................................. 398
Figure 44: Harri Hudspith, Getting into her Habit, 2022, photograph. Exhibition at St James Priory,
Bristol, March-April 2022. ........................................................................................................................ 399
9
Introduction: Mysticism versus the Mystical: Practical Issues
Mystic. Writer. Reformer. Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) was a woman who not only spoke [wrote] in
a time and space in which her body precluded her from doing so, but who put her words into practice
and constructed a mystical landscape on the ground as well as on the page.1
Figure 1: Gian Lorenzo Bernini, The Ecstasy of St Teresa, 1642-52, marble, Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome. Image
credit: Liviano Andronico, Cornaro Chapel in Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome, 2015, photograph.
This map of Teresa’s mystical landscape unfolds from the threshold of an image. Although Gian
Lorenzo Bernini’s marble masterpiece is one of the most well-known images of Christian mysticism,
1 Harri Hudspith, Getting into Her Habit (Bristol: Harri Hudspith, 2022), 10.
10
it is one in which the presence of the mystic is hard to locate. Teresa of Avila the writer, the mystic,
the reformer is lost beneath Bernini’s baroque folds in his quest to encompass the transcendence of
her Divine experience. Nearly a century after her death, Bernini quotes Teresa in three-dimensions,
constructing an image of a women who was for the first twenty years of her profession a rather
“mediocre” nun, and yet who would ultimately become one of the most insightful mystical authors
within the Catholic Church.2
Though I may be cynical of this representation of Teresa, I draw upon Bernini’s sculpture for
two reasons: firstly, it was the interface through which I first came to speak to her; secondly, at the
core of its construction lies the very same relationship around which this thesis revolves: the
entanglement of word and image. Bernini’s image is drawn from Teresa’s text, from her words which
themselves seek to visually convey a visionary experience.3
This thesis proposes that Teresa’s mysticism is (con/de)fined by a similar pattern of
movement from word to image, image to word, and that which she sees/experiences of the Divine is
inextricably entangled with language and text. Such a pattern is revealed by approaching Teresa
through her texts in parallel to the way in which she approached the Divine through Scripture. This
imitative position offers an attention to the visuality of her texts, and the processes of reading,
thereby drawing upon the practical and textual foundations of her mysticism. It is a meeting of two
practices of images and words: Teresa’s as a mystic and mine as an artist. This reciprocity in practice
allows for an intimacy in language and image from which, I argue, it is possible to map the function
2 See Bernard McGinn, “‘One word will contain within itself a thousand mysteries.’ Teresa of Avila, the first woman
commentator on the Song of Songs,” Spiritus: A journal of Christian Spirituality 16, no. 1 (2016), 23,
https://doi.org/10.1353/scs.2016.0020.
3 Specifically, it is drawn from a passage of her autobiography which describes this mystical experience of
‘transverberation.’ See: Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” in Obras Completas de Santa Teresa de Jesús, ed. Efren
de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2018), 157-8.
11
of language within her soul. Yet, before we unfold the planes of this map, we must first sketch the
contours of her wider mystical landscape.
Mysticism and/in Language
In a Western Christian context, mysticism is often envisioned as the human soul’s unitive interaction
with the Divine, ecstatic visions, mystical locutions, or stigmatic secretions. 4 One hears the
(w/W)ord, and is tempted by this vision of the mystic writhing in ecstasy, head thrown back, body
(and soul) aflame as the cherub pulls his dart from her entrails.
Yet this is not the image to which most modern definitions allude, rather they prioritise the
notion of an interior, psycho-spiritual, and transcendentally unsayable and unseeable experience of
the supernatural, a vision largely attributable to William James’s ‘foundational’ Varieties of
Religious Experience (1902). 5 Though this privately experiential definition is not necessarily long-
standing nor accurate, James offers a glimpse of the terrain of this map: mysticism and language.
Though James seeks a universal definition, in a Christian context these supernatural encounters are
experiences of a consciousness of Divine presence, of He who is simultaneously the Word (Logos),
and yet ineffably beyond linguistic description. Thus, for James this ineffability is the “handiest
mark” by which an experience can be classed as mystical;6 the intensity of the Divine encounter
renders the pray-er (Teresa) speechless; human language fails and lies flaccidly emasculated in the
face of communicating an experience that can only be known by experience. Though mystics of
many traditions have turned to writing to share the wealth of such experiences, James claims that
their contents are “more like states of feeling than states of intellect.”7 The mystical authors’ use of
4 For example, see: Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, vol. 1 (New
York: Crossroads, 1992), xvii.
5 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 3.
6 William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2011), 380, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CBO9781139149822.

7 William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 380.
12
“paradoxical expressions” and “self-contradictory” statements reveals a fundamental speechlessness,
and, in an over-romanticised vision, the construction of their text is more like musical composition
than rational “conceptual thought.”8
James also calls upon three other marks by which to determine the mysticality of an
experience: transiency, passivity, and a noetic quality.9 Whilst all three are vital to his mystical
classification, this noetic quality also speaks to language. Such experiences of the Divine are
inherently illuminating, revelatory states in which knowledge or ‘Truth’ of the Word is divulged.
Whilst James highlights how the certainty and truth of these revelations exists for the mystic alone,
many – Teresa included – are moved to write, to share their experience and divinely inspired
knowledge in text.10
For James and the swathes of scholars who would follow his model in the following century,
mysticism is defined by mystical experience. And when they turn their perennial gaze upon Christian
theistic experiences, these must be inarticulable, revelatory, passive, and momentary encounters with
the Word for them to be worthy of such classification. In James’s mind, such characterisations are
not limited to the Christian Logos, a transcendent failure of language lies at the heart of each and
every religious tradition.11 His notion of a ‘perennial core’ conceives of the superficial similarities of
mystical accounts across traditions as proof that such experiences are in fact encounters with the
same unsayable universal Divine reality.12 For example, under this guise, both Teresa and the first-
8 William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 405, 417, 420-1; Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and
Christian Mysticism, 307. Interestingly, Evelyn Underhill (James’s contemporary and a mystic in her own right)
similarly compares the plight of the mystical author to both that of a musician, and of an artist who “tries to give
us in colour, sound or words a hint of his ecstasy, his glimpse of truth.” This is arguably a romanticised vision of the
artist, and by extension, the mystic. See: Evelyn Underhill, Mysticism; a study in the nature and development of
man’s spiritual consciousness (London: Methuen & co, 1911), 90.
9 William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 380-2.
13
century Jewish mystic Philo of Alexandria experience that same ultimate reality, yet they clothe their
experience in linguistic interpretation drawn from their own traditions; Teresa does not ‘see’ the
angel piercing her loins, it is only post facto that she interprets her experience in this form. In fact, it
is debatable whether Teresa’s vision would meet James’s mystical criteria at all. Therefore, not only
does this foundational definition reveal a preoccupation with language, but with text and
interpretation.
Even those who oppose James’s perennial endeavour find themselves entangled with
language. Stephen Katz may argue that such “unmediated experience” of some common mystical
core is impossible, but his constructivist vision of mystical experience is still similarly embedded in
linguistic concerns.13 For Katz, mystical experience is always already “encoded” by the socio-
religious context within which the mystic resides.14 Teresa’s vision of the angelic dart is not any
Catholic clothing of some ultimate unitive encounter but is itself the ‘reality’ of her experience
woven from her pre-formed expectations of what such rapturous union might involve.15 This
construction is fundamentally tied to language. Firstly, the sources of this construction (at least for
Teresa) are conveyed in language, texts, sermons, stories of what it means to experience the Divine.
Secondly, we may only know the mystic’s experience through text; to borrow from Bernard McGinn,
“experience ... is not part of the historical record.”16 Moreover, such texts are not clear or pure
accounts of experience, but as Katz argues, they are unavoidably “encoded” in layers of
interpretation.17 Teresa’s texts are not unmediated descriptions of unmediated Divine experience, but
13 Stephen T. Katz, “Language, Epistemology and Mysticism,” in Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, ed. Stephen
T. Katz (London: Sheldon Press, 1978), 26.
14 Stephen T. Katz, “Language, Epistemology and Mysticism 26, 33; Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Sacred Scripture
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 3. ProQuest Ebook Central; Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Language
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 5.
15 Stephen T. Katz, “Language, Epistemology and Mysticism,” 26-7.
16 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, xiv.
17 Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Language, 5.
14
rather always already involve her own interpretation of their significance, not to mention those of
(male) spiritual advisors and overseers. 18 She does not come to writing, nor experience, in a vacuum.
Whilst they may disagree on the source and formation of mystical experience, both sides of
this mystical discourse converge on this one fundamental characteristic: mysticism is defined by
mystical experience. In both instances, such experience is envisioned as interior; a passive, subjective
psycho-spiritual encounter with the Divine which by definition is an ineffable “insight into depths of
truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect.”19 To be a mystic (in the minds of most twentieth-
century scholars) means to have an experience of Divine presence that cannot be put into words, and
yet, paradoxically, most often is conveyed in text.
Whilst the search for a definitive definition of mysticism may indicate the centrality of
language to the phenomena, this quest is problematic. The very notion of ‘mysticism’ is not an
historically stable concept. As Grace Jantzen has demonstrated, mysticism is itself a “social
construction,” just who or what classes as a mystic/mystical varies even within the history of the
Christian tradition.20 Furthermore, the criteria are always defined by the small elite of/with
epistemological authority: from the monks, confessors, and Inquisitors who oversaw Teresa’s
writings, to the professors, theologians, and philosophers who define our current conceptions. 21 In a
patriarchal world this is inherently a question of gender, that definitive elite always already the realm
of men. Throughout the evolution of the phenomenon issues of education, literacy, and text have
practically excluded women from such defining roles. Furthermore, those – like Teresa - who did
seek to claim such mystical knowledge of the Divine automatically marked themselves as potential
18 Stephen T. Katz, “Language, Epistemology and Mysticism,” 26; Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Language, 5.
19 Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis, 49.
20 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 12.
21 Jantzen highlighting this particularly in relation to practices of Lectio Divina and the interpretation of the mystical
meaning of scripture within ecclesiastical context. See: Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism,
84.
15
threats to the patriarchal status quo: what greater source of authority can there be than to engage with
the Divine Himself?22 As we shall later see, woman’s ‘inherent weakness’ was reason enough to
discount their accounts of Divine encounter. Nor did they have access to the education, literacy, or
texts typically required to derive their own authority, nor, thanks to St Paul, did they even have the
right to write.23 As such, Jantzen argues that we cannot “legitimately assume that there is one thing
that is ‘mystical experience’” or mysticism itself, we cannot accurately examine any singular
definition across history, let alone religious traditions.24 Rather than arguing over any definitive
universal definition of ‘mysticism’ we should instead study mysticisms. Thus, what it means to be a
mystic varies across time and space (not to mention faith); what mysticism means for James is not
necessarily what it means to Teresa.25
Contesting such male epistemological authority, feminist scholars have argued that the
modern study of mysticism, with its focus on the private unsayability of mystical experience, is
largely disengaged from the practicalities and contextuality of mysticism itself.26 Just as Bernini’s
image removes Teresa from her authorial context and renders her passive, the twentieth-century
philosophical preoccupation with ineffable experience marks a “distortion” of the concerns of the
(medieval) mystics upon whom such discourse is founded. 27

23 “Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are
commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law. And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their
husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church.” 1 Corinthians 14:34-5 (King James
Version).
24 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 278.
25 In fact, the term ‘mysticism’ does not come into use until at least a century after her death. See: Amy Hollywood,
“Introduction,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, eds. Amy Hollywood and Patricia Z. Beckmann
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 6, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CCO9781139020886.
26 This is raised by several (feminist) scholars of religion, namely Amy Hollywood and Grace Jantzen. Here see: Amy
Hollywood, “Introduction,” 7.
27 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, xvi.
16
The Jamesian concentration upon ineffability arguably emblematises such divergence from
the mystical path. Whilst this unspeakable fascination brings the question of language to the fore, it
does not necessarily reflect the concerns of the mystical authors whose texts are mined for proof of
such a quality of experience. Although there is no doubt that the Divine’s transcendence of human
language is a central theme within both apophatic and kataphatic Christian traditions, such
ineffability was not necessarily a source of frustrated inarticulacy for mystical writers, rather, as
Jantzen states, an “invitation to experiment with language, to stretch it to its limits so that its very
articulacy may lead beyond itself to the silence of God.”28 Though Katz acknowledges the apparent
ineffability of many mystical statements, he argues that such linguistic negativity in fact reveals far
more about “the ‘truth’ they have come to know in language” than the unspeakable nature of the
experience itself.29 Like Jantzen, he views words as the very vehicle through which one may
transform consciousness in pursuit of the transcendent Divine. 30 Just “as God is made available to
humankind through the Word incarnate and through the words of scripture, so humans ascend to God
through the words which reveal and conceal the divine mystery.”31 This presents a marked contrast to
the Jamesian conception of mystical language as an always already doomed attempt to render the
mystic’s experience conveyable through metaphor and paradox. 32 As we shall see, for the mystic
language is a fundamentally fertile tool for transformation and transcendence.33
James’s ineffable fascination is, therefore, far more a reflection of his own (contextual)
concerns. Jantzen has shown James’s definitive ineffability and passivity reveals far more about his
allegiance to Victorian visions of femininity than an understanding of mystics themselves: the late

29 Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Language, 25.
30 Stephen T. Katz, Mysticism and Language, 5, 8.
32 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 307; William James, The Varieties of Religious
Experience, 380, 417.

17
Victorian period of James’s lectures seeing the development of a more secular state in which
mysticism becomes a domestic feature of the ideal woman.34 When religious experience no longer
functions as a source of knowledge and (political) power, it then becomes “safe to allow women to
be mystics,” “angel[s] in the house” responsible for the spirituality of the family, a socially
constructed gender role which promotes woman’s heightened spiritual consciousness. 35 In fact,
spectacularly (and publicly) verbose medieval mystics like Teresa, Hildegard von Bingen, or
Marguerite Porete would likely have been “baffled” by the ineffable designation. 36 Whilst none
would ever deny the transcendence of the Divine, the sheer quantity and quality of their textual
accounts raises suspicion regarding the distance (male) philosophical analysis of the phenomena has
diverged from the concerns of the mystics themselves.37
Arguably the root of this divergence lies in the removal of the study of mysticism from its
vitally practical and textual context. The modern philosophical focus upon mystical experience as
definitive of mysticism itself performs an inherent act of de-contextualisation. As we have already
encountered, mysticism or mystical experience can only really be known through mystical texts
which themselves are not pure sources of description, but complex inter-weavings of language,
knowledge, experience, and interpretation. Whilst James’s lecture is commonly perceived as
“authoritative” and well “anchored” in mystical source material, Jantzen argues that is not the case. 38
James’s definition was not grounded in an in-depth engagement with the mystical writers, but drawn
from a series of “culled” quotations “without any reference to their literary or historical context.”39
Not only does his focus on transient instances of mystical encounter lead him to exclude any
34 Grace M. Jantzen, “Feminists, Philosophers, and Mystics,” Hypatia 9, no. 4 (1994), 190.
35 Grace M. Jantzen, “Feminists, Philosophers, and Mystics,” 190.
36 Grace M. Jantzen, “Feminists, Philosophers, and Mystics,” 191.
37 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 306, 22.
38 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 305-6.
39 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 306; Ralph Barton Perry, The Thought and Character
of Willian James, 2 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1935).
18
consideration of the religious and socio-political context within which they occurred, but the very
source material from which he draws his definition is inherently divorced from its textual context.40
For example he repeatedly quotes from Teresa at length, yet offers no consideration of her Castilian,
Catholic, or sexed context, nor the nature of her individual texts.41 Consequently, those who turn to
James are likely to expand this pattern of distortion, taking his definition as “adequate description;” 42
such culling of “juicy quotations” to support a point of view serves to exile such statements from the
context of the text itself.43
McGinn raises a similar contextual issue. Such definitive endeavours not only disengage
“juicy quotations” from the texts within which their significance is embedded, and without which
they cannot arguably be understood, but also treats these sources like “phone books or airline
schedules: handy sources for confirming what we already expect.”44 Katz also critiques James’s
perennial pursuit of comparative similarities between all mystical experiences, arguing that this
removal of mystical statements from their context invalidates their very meaning. 45 These are not
illustrative sources from which specific statements can be prized above the whole, nor can they be
understood without consideration of the inherently mystical nature of their language. Much
philosophical discourse has overlooked the “special hermeneutics of mystical texts,” the function and
significance of which cannot be understood or even appreciated without a concern for their genre,
audience, poetics, or structure.46 To read a mystical text as a source to be mined for concrete
evidence of a mystical reality not only removes the words from the foundational context of the text,
40 Here Jantzen highlights his interpretations of passages from John of the Cross and Al-Ghazali as particularly
superficial. See: Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 305.
41 For example, see: William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 411-3.
42 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, xiii.
43 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, xiii.
44 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, xiii; Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History
of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xiv.

45 Stephen T. Katz, “Language, Epistemology and Mysticism,” 49.
46 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xiv.
19
but demonstrates a fundamental misunderstanding of the role of language within the phenomenon
itself.
Furthermore, such philosophical endeavours have also overlooked the contextual landscape
from which such texts (and by extension, experiences) are constructed. Mysticism is not simply a
question of Divine encounter, but encompasses a broader ocean of experience, knowledge, and
practice within which such experiences are situated. As McGinn argues, “mysticism is always a
process or a way of life.”47 For Teresa – the nun, the writer, the reformer – her experiences of Divine
embrace are not merely transient moments of loving revelation, but are fundamentally ingrained in
her “way of life;” 48 they are not odd, private, unsayable instances of something Other to her self, but
are inherently entangled with the very way she thinks and acts in the world. To isolate her accounts
of Divine experience from this practical context is to ignore the fact that mysticism is a lived/living
phenomenon, and a devotional process with a Divine goal in mind.49 This Divine goal is arguably of
far more concern to the mystical author than any transient experience.
Like Jantzen and McGinn, Amy Hollywood identifies another pattern of disengagement
within the realms of twentieth-century French philosophy. Whilst writers such as Jacques Lacan,
Simone de Beauvoir or Georges Bataille may have been drawn to the “emotional, bodily, and
excessive forms of mysticism,” often denigrated for their bodiliness and prevalence within female
mysticism(s), they tend to “essentialize” the subject.50 Though they may be more appreciative of the
corporeal and para-mystical manifestations of the phenomena, tears, bleedings, contortions,
contusions that may not otherwise meet (James’s) mystical criteria, they largely speak to “the
47 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xvi.
50 Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy. Mysticism, Sexual Difference, and the Demands of History (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 2002) 5, 280.
20
mystic” without any real consideration of “the varieties of Christian and non-Christian texts.”51
Again mysticism is excluded from the contextual concerns and specificities which mystics may mark
as mystical.
These contextual divergences call for a new approach to the mystical, one that “tries to
refocus on the concerns vital to the mystics themselves.”52 For Hollywood, this approach requires a
resistance to the gendering of hierarchical distinctions between affective and speculative
mysticisms;53 for Jantzen, a recognition of the contextuality of the phenomenon, its inherent
entanglement with questions of gender and authority, and an awareness of how often “the language
of the mystical” has been theologically and philosophically (mis)appropriated for the oppression of
women.54 For McGinn, it is an appreciation of the living practical context which inherently underpins
this phenomena.55 To overcome past sins, a new approach requires an appreciation of the context in,
and for which, these lives were written, an attention to the concerns of the mystical author alongside
those of the modern reader.
This research seeks to go some short distance to re-unite the study of mysticism with the
textual and practical concerns within which the phenomenon is so vitally entangled by asking: what
new vision of Teresa’s mysticism can be developed by approaching her texts in an emulative parallel
to the way in which she approached the Divine through Scripture? It seeks to draw upon notions of
text and practice in order to develop a more expansive understanding of the function of language
within Teresa’s mysticism, exploring the landscape of her mystical texts with a close appreciation for
their play on language, structure, audience, poetics, and function.56 With an imitative and intimate
51 Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy, 280.

53 Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy, 5-6.
54 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, xvi.
55 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xv-xvi.
56 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xiv.
21
appreciation for use of word and image, this map seeks to trace the function of text and language for
Teresa. However, before we outline the Teresian specificities of this approach, let us explore this
practical and textual context in greater detail in order to develop the lay of the land upon which this
map is drawn.
Mysticism as Practice
It is not until a century after Teresa’s death that the term ‘mysticism’ (la mystérique) emerges into
common parlance. 57 The notion of ‘(the) mystical’, however, arises far earlier and is entangled with
the roots of Christianity itself. The term emerges first in the mystery religions of Ancient Greece,
with particular reference to rites of initiation.58 ‘Mystics’ or ‘the mystical ones’ derives from the verb
muo (μύώ) meaning to shut (the eyes), to lie just beneath the surface, and spoke to those who “closed
their mouths” and “kept silent” on the nature of their initiation.59 The word also echoes the Sanskrit
mukha, meaning face, mouth, or entrance. 60 This inherent corporeality reflected the focus of such
rites on fertility, reproduction, and the female body.61
The next sense of the mystical lies entangled with early Christian conceptions of textual
interpretation and the search for the ‘mystical meaning of Scripture’. 62 The language of Scripture was
envisioned as enclosing some hidden Divine Truth submerged beneath His word(s) on the page.
Through the work of Origen of Alexandria, the term comes to speak to a multi-layered process of
scriptural interpretation. His First Principles describes a mystical method of exegesis performed on
three levels - literal, moral, and mystical -, just as (hu)man consists of three parts - body, soul, and
57 Amy Hollywood, “Introduction,” 6.

58 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 27, 59.
59 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 27; “μύώ,” Abarim Publications Theological
Dictionary, accessed December 6, 2022, https://www.abarim-publications.com/DictionaryG/m/m-u-om.html.

60 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love: an imagined life of the Saint of Avila, trans Lorna Scott Fox (New York: Columbia
University Press, 2008), 36.

22
spirit;63 the most significant or Divine aspect of each being the spiritual or mystical level. In this
orig(e)nal sense, ‘mystical’ signifies a process of uncovering the hidden Truth enclosed within the
words of Scripture and putting such ideas into practice;64 this process raises the human soul towards
the Divine, performing a quest for union through understanding inherently grounded in the text.
Whilst, as Jantzen outlines, the specific significance of this mystical meaning varies even within the
patristic period, it was always understood in Christological terms. 65 Scripture as the words of God
conceals Christ, the Word incarnate, the hidden meaning who is experientially revealed through
interpretation.66 This mystical meaning is uncovered not simply through discursive action in
exegesis, but through the fact that this process raises the soul towards the Divine, towards an
experience of the Truth of the Word beneath the words on the page. Here we see clearly how
language provides the vehicle for ascension through its mystical function. Thus, in its early Christian
orig(e)ns, mysticism “can be described in terms of a hermeneutic practice” and such Divine
experience cannot be divorced from this textual and practical context.67
Whilst there may exist a myriad of Christian mysticism(s), they are united by this
“continuous tradition of a distinctly exegetical character,” by a connection to reading, writing, and
praying the Bible. Both these textual and Christological orig(e)ns permeate throughout the medieval
period to which Teresa sits as “heir:”68 both aspects experience an intensification with the rise of
monasticism and its foundations in reading, prayer and scriptural interpretation. The orig(e)n-al
63 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:111; Grace M. Jantzen,
Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 69-70; Origen, On First Principles, trans. G. W. Butterworth (Eugene: Wipf
& Stock, 2012), 276-80, https://web-s-ebscohost-com.bris.idm.oclc.org/ehost/detail/detail?vid=0&sid=6c7b456f-
8e0d-4ab0-83c5-01a6f263c9ca%40redis&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ%3d%3d#AN=2616024&db=nlebk.
64 Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography: Authority, Power, and the Self in Mid-Sixteenth-Century Spain
(London: Legenda, 2005), 22.

67 Niklaus Largier, “Mysticism, Modernity, and the Invention of Aesthetic Experience,” Representations 105 (2009),
40. https://doi.org/10.1525/rep.2009.105.1.37.
68 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse in the Theologia Mystica of St Teresa of Avila: A
Wittgensteinian Analysis” (PhD diss., University of Durham, 2009), 11, http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/1931/.
23
notion that the words of Scripture “are just the outward shell of deep meanings hidden in the text”
comes to underpin a monastic “way of life” and the notion of Lectio Divina.69 Whilst Lectio Divina
does not necessarily designate one singular systematised practice, it commonly refers to a four or five
stage method for the prayerful study of scripture. 70 Through reading (lectio), meditation (meditatio),
prayer (oratio), and contemplation (contemplatio) one decodes the multiple meanings of Scripture
and ascends along the mystical path towards the Divine, towards the Truth of the Word. In the words
of the twelfth-century Carthusian Guigo II, “reading (lectio), as it were, puts the food [words] whole
into the mouth, meditating chews it and breaks it up, prayer extracts its flavour, contemplation is the
sweetness itself which gladdens and refreshes.” 71 His contemporary, Hugh of St Victor, also includes
a further stage of composition (operatio) before the soul moves on to contemplation, and his
definition of meditation is especially pertinent: “Meditation is sustained thought along planned lines
… it fixes its free gaze upon the contemplation of truth, drawing together now these, now those
causes of things, or now penetrating into profundities.72 As such, Lectio Divina speaks to the
development of an understanding of the Divine through making connections between scriptural texts,
commentaries, and one’s own experience. The notion of ‘the mystical’ comes to signify the very
heart of a practice of reading that moves the soul along a prayerful path towards union with, and
understanding of, the Divine.
Mysticism as movement, as the journey of the soul along the textual path towards the Divine,
lies at the heart of this research. In the words of Alain Cugno, mysticism functions “as the measure of
69 E. Ann Matter, “Lectio Divina,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, eds. Amy Hollywood and
Patricia Z. Beckmann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 148, https://doi-
org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CCO9781139020886; Mysticism as a “way of life” is a phrase from Bernard McGinn,
The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xvi. The phrase is also used by Rachel Fulton to
describe medieval monastic prayer, see Rachel Fulton, “Praying with Anselm at Admont: A Meditation on
Practice,” Speculum 81, no. 3 (2006), 721, http://www.jstor.org/stable/20463827.
70 E. Ann Matter, “Lectio Divina,” 147.
71 Guigo II, The Ladder of Monks and Twelve Meditations: A Letter on the Contemplative Life, trans. E. Colledge and
J. Walsh (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1981), 82-3.

72 Hugh of St Victor, Didascalion, trans. Jerome Taylor (New York: Columbia Uni Press, 1961), 92-3.
24
the distance between God and man.”73 The term does not simply signify momentary supernatural
phenomena, but a sense of unity or encounter between Divine and human which in turn speaks to the
estrangement between them. For Patricia Dailey, this “unity or closeness” is performative, the active
“calibrating [of] the outer according to the inner” through reading, interpretation, and imitation.74
Mysticism is a hermeneutic practice that moves the soul towards the Divine whom the mystic comes
to understand through their experience of Him. Whilst many mystics speak to this understanding in
union as immediate, Dailey highlights how most mystics perform interpretation upon their
experience, employing it as another instance of reading and exegesis.75 This mystical practice of
reading underpins either end of the unitive journey and as such, at its very core mysticism denotes an
interior movement, a pilgrimage of and through the self performed through a practice of prayerful
study, experience, and interpretation of Divine Truth.
In this thesis I use the term ‘mystical practice’ to designate these scriptural and devotional
processes, or in the words of McGinn, “all that leads up to and prepares for the [Divine] encounter.”76
In turn, ‘mystical experience’ is used only to signify those moments of unitive encounter. These
distinctions are artificial given the entanglement of Christian mysticism in scriptural interpretation,
yet for the sake of clarity they will be used to refer to these two sides of the mystical coin. Similarly,
drawing from Jantzen, I will also use the designation ‘mysticism(s)’ when referring to the broader
traditions of the phenomena as a whole.77
73 Alain Cugno, St John of the Cross (London: Burns & Oates, 1982), 17.
74 Patricia Dailey, ”The Body and Its Senses,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, eds. Amy
Hollywood and Patricia Z. Beckman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 266. https://doi-
org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CCO9781139020886.
75 For example, Hildegard of Bingen describes the Heavens opening and fiery light permeating her whole heart and
breast, and “immediately” instilling within her understanding of the entirety of scripture. See: Hildegard of Bingen,
Scivias, trans. Mother Columbia Hart (New York: Paulist Press, 1990), 59; Patricia Dailey, “The Body and Its Senses,”
267-8.
77 For example: medieval mysticism(s), female Christian mysticism(s).
25
Defining female mysticism(s)
The idea of ‘the mystical’ may underpin much of medieval monasticism’s textual and liturgical
practices, but the study of ‘the mystical meaning of scripture’ was an endeavour predominantly
reserved for men. Within the realms of early Christianity, whilst there was no explicit ban on the
female study of sacred text, women were discouraged from teaching and preaching under the Pauline
injunction on female speech and little of their writing survives from the period. 78 Women were
considered inferior and lacking, having no positive contributions to make to exegetical study;79 the
ever pervasive view of women’s supposed weakness, deviance, and heightened porosity rendered
them highly vulnerable to demonic persuasions.80 Many of the Church Fathers largely echo the
traditional Platonic conception that whilst the rational soul may inhabit the bodies of men and
women, woman’s association with their lesser bodies signifies their inferiority.81 For Augustine, a
mystical master beloved by Teresa, woman does not even assume that vital human nature as the
image of God in her own right; only when considered as “helpmate” alongside the male does she
embody that image.82 As Alison Weber underlines, such conceptions permeate the medieval period
through the ‘assimilation’ of medical and philosophical discourses “predicated on the idea of women
as defective men.”83 As such, medieval women were largely excluded from education, exegesis, and

80 This is a widely discussed topic, for example see Amy Hollywood and Patricia Z. Beckman, The Cambridge
Companion to Christian Mysticism (Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 2012), https://www-cambridge-

org.bris.idm.oclc.org/core/books/cambridge-companion-to-christian-
mysticism/57FBA0B8EA8C5CCDABCB9E08D8C6A915; Elizabeth V. Spelman, “Woman as Body: Ancient and
Contemporary Views,” Feminist Studies 8, no. 1 (1982), https://doi.org/10.2307/3177582; Grace M. Jantzen,
Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism.
81 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 72-3; Elizabeth V. Spelman, “Woman as Body: Ancient
and Contemporary Views,” 115-6.

82 Augustine, Augustine: On the Trinity, trans. Stephen McKenna, ed. Gareth B. Mathews (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2012), 89-90, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CBO9781139164658.

83 Alison Weber, “Gender,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, ed. Amy Hollywood and Patricia Z.
Beckman (Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 2012), 326-7, https://doi-

26
ecclesial authority, the direct study, teaching, and interpretation of the scriptural texts being reserved
for the monastic male elite.
Yet “this is the only place in the history of the West in which woman speaks [writes] and acts
so publicly.”84 The same openness and porosity which made them more susceptible to demonic
deception also left them open to Divine penetration and a wealth of textual material survives to
proclaim women’s authority on the soul’s interaction with their Beloved.85 Such female (medieval)
mystics vary greatly in intent, allegiance, style, and literacy, and, as Jantzen argues, it would be
wrong to consign them all to one “monolithic” grouping.86 The latter half of the twentieth century has
seen a rise in scholarly attention to the question of gender and mysticism(s), particularly in terms of
issues of authority and writing, affectivity, and asceticism, “charismatic graces,” and erotic
language. 87 None of these are entirely specific to female mysticism(s), they colour the works and
experiences of their male counterparts; such issues, however, are largely more problematic or
influential for female mystics and as such offer a framework through which to navigate their texts
under two broad themes.
Firstly, such mysticism(s) inherently imply a question of authority: she who sees the Beloved
entangles her self in a direct connection with the Absolute, and speaks to and of a power which
potentially subverts the (male) authority of the Church. For male mystics, often more widely
educated, claiming the authority of their Divinely inspired visions was far easier than for their female
counterparts, whose supposed porosity brought into question the source of such visionary
experiences. Furthermore, they largely lacked the education necessary to express their mysticality in
the accepted forms, and as such were required to prove the validity of their experience whilst also
84 Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,” in Speculum of the Other Woman, trans. Gillian C. Gill (Ithaca: Cornell University
Press, 1985), 191.
85 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 324; Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy, 4.
87 Alison Weber, “Gender,” 317.
27
fulfilling the task of sharing such mystical revelations.88 In a paradoxical “double bind,”
demonstrating their authenticity often involved encroaching upon the male prerogative of writing,
and the later Middle Ages witnesses a surge of quasi-autobiographical accounts written in obedient
defence of female mystical experience. 89 Yet, as Catherine Mooney highlights, it is increasingly hard
to distinguish the female voices within such texts given the role of male amanuenses, scribes,
confessors, and overseers involved in their authorship;90 as such, female mystical texts are always
already coloured by gender and authority not simply in terms of restrictions on writing, education,
and authenticity, but in the production of the works themselves. Despite many female mystics’ lack
of formal education, some feminist scholars have argued that such women were far more ‘literate’
than we (or they) thought: Jantzen refers to Hildegard’s knowledge as “encyclopaedic,” and Gillian
Ahlgren argues that Teresa’s “voracious” consumption of devotional literature left her as well read as
many of her male contemporaries. 91 Furthermore, such questions of authority did not preclude the
likes of Teresa, Hildegard, Catherine of Siena, or Maria de Santo Domingo from involvement in
political and religious reform.
Whilst they may be precluded from traditional exegetical study of Latin scriptures by their
sex, with a few notable exceptions, many monastic female mystics were not divorced from that
original interpretative meaning of the word. 92 They may use Scripture in a different way within the
88 Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian Mysticism, vol. 3 (New York: Crossroads,
1998), 154.
89 “Double bind” is Weber’s phrase used to describe how Teresa is caught between the command to write and
such an encroachment on the male prerogative. See: Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 16; Bernard McGinn, “The Changing Shape of Late Medieval
Mysticism,” Church History 65, no.2 (1996), 197, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.2307/3170288.
90 Catherine M. Mooney, “Voice, Gender, and the Portrayal of Sanctity,” in Gendered Voices ed. Catherine M.
Mooney (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), 7.

91 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 159; Gillian Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics
of Sanctity (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), 28, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.7591/9781501733130;

Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila: Mystical Knowing and Selfhood (New York: Crossroads,
2002), 61.
92 Here both Hildegard and Teresa spring to mind.
28
text compared to their male counterparts, but such writings divulge an experiential immersion in
scriptural context.93 In this period a large part of cloistered engagement with Scripture is enshrined
in the monastic “way of life” through the liturgy, sermons, devotional practices; 94 the Psalter, Books
of Hours, and devotional commentaries offered female mystics a communal and experiential taste of
the Word. Furthermore, their writings are not strictly tied to any particular textual source, but “arise
out of their own visionary experience” thus affording a sense of creativity and exploration in terms of
their use of language and imagery.95
Secondly, the issues of “charismatic graces,” eroticism, and psychosomatic affectivity all
speak to a mystical corporeality, to woman’s association with the body.96 Whilst historically such
corporeal association has been taken to signify woman’s lesser status, Caroline Walker Bynum’s
corpus has convincingly argued for a more positive perspective on the trope of woman-as-body.97
Bynum underlines both the “psychosomatic unity” of medieval visions of the soul and body, and the
subsequent corporeal potential for connection to the Divine through Christ’s own Humanity:98 “the
point of Christ’s humanity is that Christ is what we are: our humanity is in him and in him it is joined
with divinity. We encounter this humanity-divinity of Christ in the Eucharist and in mystical union,
each of which is an analogue for the other.”99 As such the association between the female and the
body afforded women a particular access to the Divine through Christ’s bleeding body. The suffering
form of the Word-made-Flesh presented a bleeding, feeding, and nurturing image, a glimpse of a
93 Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in Christian Mysticism,” Spiritus: A Journal of Christian
Spirituality 1, no. 2 (2001), 164, doi:10.1353/scs.2001.0038.
94 E. Ann Matter, “Lectio Divina,” 147; Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History of Western Christian
Mysticism, 1:xvi.
96 Alison Weber, “Gender,” 317.
97 For a history of the historical and philosophical designation of ‘woman as body’ see: Elizabeth V. Spelman,
“Woman as Body: Ancient and Contemporary Views.”

98 Caroline Walker Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval
Religion (New York: Zone Books, 1992), 235.

99 Caroline Walker Bynum, Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages (Berkely: University
of California Press, 1982), 191, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1525/9780520907539.
29
divinised female body with which female mystics could identify through bodily expression,
experience, and suffering. This corporeal reflection came to underpin a strong emphasis on
penitence, asceticism, and the (grateful) endurance of illness. 100 Furthermore, this body-soul unity
and the association of female interior spirituality with the exterior body leads to a particular attention
to “unusual bodily events as expressions of the soul,” male confessors, superiors, and clerics
‘reading’ the form of female mystics for signs of seizures, secretions, stigmata, and other such
“charismatic graces.”101 Though the active manipulation of the body for spiritual purposes was
common practice, such para-mystical phenomena had a particularly female poignance.102 As such,
female mysticism(s) were considered to focus on bodily suffering, intense devotional connection to
the Eucharist body, and images of Christ’s maternal nourishment.
Such Christly corporeality comes to shape the nature of female text, the ties between body,
language, and experience becoming entangled with the rise of vernacular writing in the thirteenth-
century. Bynum highlights how the “open, experiential style” of many (female) mystical texts is tied
to the fact that most are written in the vernacular opposed to formal Latin.103 Writing often becomes
more closely tied to speech as mystics put pen to paper in their own lived (and spoken) language.
Bynum argues that through vernacular poetry and romance, female mystics had access not to a
theological vocabulary, but “a vocabulary of feelings.”104 Whilst women’s direct access to scripture
was largely limited through issues of education and authority, their language of desire, feeling, and
sensation offered a scriptural affinity with the sensorial, sexual, and erotic voice of Song of Songs.
Furthermore, female mystics have a greater tendency to “somatise” their experience, endowing such
100 Caroline Walker Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 189.

101 Caroline Walker Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 235; Alison Weber, “Gender,” 317.
102 Caroline Walker Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 186-7.
30
corporeal phenomena with spiritual significance.105 Whilst this is not an exclusively female practice,
Bynum argues that female descriptions of such experience are far more immediate and personal
whereas male writers offer a more general account of ‘the’ mystical experience.106 Yet this female
affectivity or bodiliness is not as simple as a self-association with the body. As Hollywood has
revealed through accounts of Beatrice of Nazareth, the association of female mystics with
“charismatic graces,” external and tangible corporeal manifestations of interior experience, is often a
‘reading’ of the (female) body performed by male overseers.107 Whilst Beatrice presents her
corporeality as an indication of her (Christological) suffering, (male) hagiography “seems to demand
that [this interior] sanctification occur through that body,” that her interior experience is made
manifest in externally visible signs of transformation. 108 Thus it is often hard to discern the
(corpo)reality of such (female) experience.
In terms of the (post)modern study of the religious experience, such corporeality comes into
similar degradation as many (perennialist) mystical definitions do not consider para-mystical
phenomena as true instances of mystical union. James regards the works of female mystics such as
Gertrude of Helfta as a “paltry-minded recital” full of amorous statements of “the most absurd and
puerile sort.”109 In his view such affective expressions of Divine (p/P)assion in a female voice do not
correlate with that ‘true’ unsayable, silent, and passive experience of mystical union.110 In contrast,
Peter Dinzelbacher appears to argue for a broader taxonomy of mystical experience, one that includes
all the “varied phenomenon and sensations which prepare and accompany this experience” as they

107 Amy Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and her Hagiographers,” in Gendered Voices ed. Catherine
M. Mooney (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999).

108 Amy Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and her Hagiographers,” 90-1.
110 William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 345, 380-2.
31
express a relation to Christ which itself constitutes part of the mystical journey.111 Like Jantzen,
McGinn and Hollywood, Dinzelbacher argues that there is a contextual disengagement within the
contemporary philosophical sphere insofar as the focus upon language, metaphor and meaning
distances the study of mystical language/text from its vital faithful and Christological situation.112
Whilst here he appears to echo many of the feminist concerns cited thus far, his inclusive focus upon
such “charismatic graces” appears to downplay the question of gender, highlighting how such
embodied and visionary phenomena can also be encountered within male medieval mysticism(s).113
Hollywood’s exploration of the mystical fascination within twentieth-century French
philosophy outlines a similar disregard for these more corporeal (‘feminine’) aspects. As I have
mentioned, though a group of French writers are clearly drawn to mysticism(s)’s more corporeal
facets, it is the appeal of a universal (female) ‘mystic’ to which they are drawn, opposed to any
consideration of the vast variety of identities, idiosyncrasies, and voices which constitute such female
mysticism(s).114 They may seek to give space to undervalued para-mystical phenomena, yet many
show little regard for the specificities of the individuals themselves. This is, however, a region of
thought which has greatly drawn upon the works of female mystics in order to theorise women’s
relationship with language. Beyond the world in which “writing is God,” the realm of the phallus, the
cross, the pen, poststructuralist and psychoanalytic writers like Cixous, Kristeva, Irigaray have
sought to carve out an understanding of ‘femininity’ in text.115 This is not a femininity of the
specifically female body, but rather a voice which operates beyond the phallogocentric confines of
111 Peter Dinzelbacher, “The Beginning of Mysticism Experienced in Twelfth-Century England,” in The Medieval
Mystical Tradition in England, eds. Marion Glasscoe (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1987), 112.
112 Peter Dinzelbacher, “The Beginning of Mysticism Experienced in Twelfth-Century England,” 112.
113 Alison Weber, “Gender,” 317; Louise Nelstrop and Kevin Magill, Christian Mysticism: An Introduction to
Contemporary Theoretical Approaches (London: Routledge, 2009), 146,

https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bristol/detail.action?docID=476263.
115 Hélène Cixous, Coming to Writing and Other Essays, ed. Deborah Jenson, trans. Sarah Cornell, Deborah Jenson,
Ann Liddle and Susan Sellers (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), 11.
32
language, which marks something other to the male symbolic order and within which there is a
specific attention to writing (and) the (female) body. 116
Building upon this linguistic feminist foundation, this research seeks to offer an in-depth
feminist study of Teresa and her own particular (con)textual specificities, drawing concerns for
language and the body into dialogue with Teresa’s own concerns for language and the Divine. This
quest approaches Teresa through her texts in parallel to that in which she approaches the Divine
through Scripture and devotional literature. In other words, the research draws upon mysticism(s)’s
inherent nature as an embodied practice of textual interpretation, a means of uncovering the Divine
Truth behind the word on the page, to develop a closer understanding of the function of Teresa’s
mysticism itself. This emulative ‘practice-to-practice’ approach focusses upon the visuality of her
mysticism, and seeks to suggestively map the psychological form, function, and structure of her soul
in its relationship to language. In doing so it hopes to answer Jantzen’s and Hollywood’s calls,
prioritizing the nature of Teresa’s mysticism as a practice of textual interpretation on a level with the
significance of her experiences of mystical union with the Divine.
Map Structure
To further ground this perspective in her practical context, chapter one begins by tracing Teresa’s
context in medieval Castille, weaving a sense of her heritage within the realms of Castilian female
authorship and recollective spirituality. This methodological opening then moves through the stages
of Teresa’s practice of recogimiento (recollection) as a mode of meditative and prayer-full
visualisation grounded in the text(s) of the Passion. Entwining the notions of the scriptural text as
“threshold” and the soul’s navigation of the space between itself and the Divine, I then move to
propose how an imitative approach to this recollective practice can serve as a method for mapping
116
Anna Watz, “Surrealism and écriture féminine,” in Surrealism, ed. Natalya Lusty (Cambridge: University of
Cambridge Press, 2021), 366, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/9781108862639.
33
Teresa’s soul in language.117 This approach, constructed upon the foundations of my own artistic
practice, draws upon mysticism(s)’s inherent visuality, its nature as a mode of textual interpretation
and movement through the soul to develop methods for ‘reading’ and mapping Teresa’s soul.
From this emulative position, chapter two traces how scriptural language forms a spiralling
umbilical cord that courses through the void between Teresa and her Divine; for Teresa this coil not
only marks her estrangement and attachment to the Spouse, but also forms her path towards Him.
Through her ‘Moradas del Castillo Interior’ I follow her mystical ascent through language, through
her use of word-images which flood her soul-castle, mapping how she moves from meditation upon
such word-images, to imaginary visions of the Word-made-Flesh, to union in non-visual visions of
the Word Himself. I also trace how this movement from word-to-image and image-to-Word
constitutes Teresa’s mystical transformation from a soul in the image of the Divine, to an imitative
Christ-like image of the Word-made-flesh and finally to a signifier for the Divine Himself.
Considering the corporeality of her word-images, chapter three explores how Teresa locates
the soul in relation to her body. Through the molecular inferences of her crystalline soul-castle,
specific references to sites within the body, and her practice of recogimiento as an in-turning through
body and soul, I map Teresa’s soul as vitally entwined with her corporeal body. Through this
mapping process, I seek to illustrate how her si(gh)te of the soul functions as an internal reflection of
her corporeal form; in the abyss between her and her Beloved, Teresa’s ‘inner (hu)man’ is not only a
mirror of both ends of the linguistic cord (human-Divine), but is able to oscillate and overlap the
frontiers that lie between itself and the corporeal exterior, forming an integral part of her corporeal
anatomy.
117Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, Volume Two: The Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, trans. Luce Giard
and ed. Michael B. Smith (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 126, https://doi-
org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226209272.001.0001.
34
Chapter four maps how Teresa envisions the psychological structure of the soul, its
constituent parts and their relevant functions in terms of her transformative ascension along the cord
to the Divine. Walking through the tripartite form of her soul, I outline its functions through the
faculties of understanding (el entendimiento), memory (la memoria), and will (la voluntad),
exploring how they function, interact, and transform throughout her recollective process. Continuing
the focus on image and word developed in the preceding chapters, this chapter approaches Teresa’s
soul in its nature as an image of the Divine and seeks to demonstrate how each of these faculties
function through a sense of image. Here I also examine the relationship between the soul and the
spirit as both something slightly ‘other’ to her soul, and yet a vital part of its nature.
At this point a brief interlude traces the transformation of Teresa’s soul through the castle in
terms of the changing function of her faculties and the role of her interior senses. Moving through the
moradic realms of active recollection, I map how each of her faculties is involved in this interior
meditative process; as we begin to move deeper within the castle toward instances of passive
mystical experience, this section outlines how these faculties and her interior sensory capacity
become increasingly transformed and surpassed. Within this approach recollection is envisioned both
as a process of shedding or spiritual release of the faculties, and a progressive awakening of Teresa’s
interior sensory capacity to the presence of the Divine within.
Having established this vision of recollection as an interior sensorial awakening, chapter five
moves to explore the form, function, and significance of Teresa’s spiritual senses. Considering this
awakening in light of the corporeality of her soul, this chapter suggests that rather than any
traditional divide between corporeal and spiritual senses, Teresa’s recollection can be envisioned as a
process of sensory regression towards the interior. Focusing primarily upon her Meditaciones sobre
los Cantares, I trace the orality of her relationship to text/language through her use of gustatory
35
imagery, and the fundamental sense of touch which underpins her progression through word and
image.
Chapter six addresses the function of language, writing, and text from the other end of the
umbilicoil once she is transformed in mystical union and takes up the pen. Beginning with a
consideration of where Teresa begins writing in the chronology of her mystical transformation, the
chapter explores the connection between her spirit and the capacity to write, and its relation to her
faculties. Having established the function of her writing act as one guided by the will and the spirit,
both of which become increasingly more Divine as she walks through the castle, I will draw upon
écriture feminine in order to untangle the various voices within Teresa’s texts and the fundamental
tension between her writing act and female body.
The final pages of the map retraces our steps through the castle, offering two contrasting yet
concurrent visions of Teresa’s recollection: firstly, as a process of three-dimensional reading;
secondly as a spiritual deconstruction of the soul/self. In reflecting upon the conclusions of this
thesis, the edges of this emulative map are drawn and further paths through Teresa’s writing, her
language, and her body are identified.
36
Chapter 1: Practice-to-Practice
Medieval Spain is often envisioned at a distance from ‘mainland’ Europe; when we come to examine
the landscape of female authorship, this distinction does not appear too far-fetched. Whilst Germany
and France witness the evolution of female writing from the tenth and twelfth centuries, Castille’s
female literary lineage is far sparser. 118 Ronald Surtz identifies only “a handful” of female writers
who predate Teresa when she takes up the pen in the sixteenth century. 119 Whilst one could argue that
medieval women in Castille held a political advantage over their northern sisters insofar as they
could own property and inherit wealth, their societal position remained one of marked inferiority in
which education and writing were largely reserved for men. Whilst the later Middle Ages may see a
flourishing of Castilian literature, such texts also evidence a tangible scorn and denigration of
women.120 Thus, fifteenth-century female authors such as Teresa de Cartagena or Constanza de
Castille navigated similar questions of gender and authority in writing themselves into a tradition in
which they had no ‘mothers’ or ‘sisters’, no “other [Castilian] women writers whose works were
familiar to them.”121
Such sparsity is greatly contrasted by the flowering of female authorship in Castille in
centuries following Teresa’s writings which can perhaps be traced to a period of humanist reform at
the end of the fifteenth century.122 Under the watchful gaze of Cardinal Francisco Ximenes Cisneros
the work of Erasmus permeates the country promoting notions of devotio moderna, scriptural
118 For example, Hildegard of Bingen (b. 1098) and Hrosthvita (b. 935) in Germany, and Heloise (b. 1100) and Marie
de France (b. 1160).
119 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain. The Mothers of Saint Teresa of Avila .
(Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), 1, https://www-jstor-

org.bris.idm.oclc.org/stable/j.ctv4s7md3.
120 See: María del Pilar Oñate, El Feminismo en la Literatura Española (Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1938), 8.
121 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 20.
122 Manuel Serrano y Sanz, Apuntes para una biblioteca de escritoras españolas desde el año 1401 al 1833 (Madrid:
Sucesores de Rivadeneyra, 1903).
37
analysis, and the quest for interior spirituality that had developed in northern Europe.123 Whilst there
is no evidence to suggest Teresa was familiar with Erasmus’s writing, traces of such humanist ideals
are woven into her mystical practice, likely inherited from Franciscan writers like Juan de Avila .124
For Weber, this humanist reform presents particularly gendered implications. The humanist rejection
of women’s supposed ‘spiritual inferiority’ and their call for a mass audience for the Word marks an
advocacy for broader religious education for women as well as men:125 if all should study “the
philosophy of Christ,” Scripture should not only be accessible but translated into the vernacular. 126
Cisneros’s “vigorous publishing campaign” made vernacular translations of parts of scripture, along
with the works of Catherine of Siena, Angela of Foligno, Clare of Assisi, and Jean Gerson,
significantly more accessible.127
Though Pablo Acosta-García has highlighted how an awareness of female models of sanctity
pre-dated Cisneros, this “systematic publication” arguably made such models more widely accessible
and influential.128 The corporeal, Christocentric, and image-based nature of Angela’s Liber Lelle
(1505) is reflected in the works of Teresa’s ‘mothers’ Juana de la Cruz, María de Ajofrín, and María
de Santo Domingo.129 Furthermore, the publication of her book emblematises “a favourable attitude
towards mysticism in general (and female visionaries in particular) in the early years of the sixteenth
123 Jodi Bilinkoff, The Avila of Saint Teresa: Religious Reform in a Sixteenth-Century City (Ithaca: Cornell Univesity
Press, 1989), 79.
124 Jodi Bilinkoff, The Avila of Saint Teresa, 80; Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography, 43.
125 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 20-1.
126 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 21.
127 Jodi Bilinkoff, The Avila of Saint Teresa, 79; Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 21; Pablo Acosta-García,
“Santas y Marcadas: Itinérarios de lectura modélicos en las obras de las místicas bajomedievales impresas por
Cisneros,” Hispania Sacra 72, no. 145 (2020), 137-50, https://doi.org/10.3989/hs.2020.011.
128 Pablo Acosta-García, ““Santas y Marcadas,” 140; Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography, 43.
129 Pablo Acosta-García, ““Santas y Marcadas,” 145; Pablo Acosta-García, “«En Viva Sangre Bañadas»: Caterina da
Siena y las Vitae de María de Ajofrín, Juana de la Cruz, María de Santo Domingo y otras santas vivas castellanas,”
Archivio italiano per la storia della pietà, 33 (2020), 146, https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.4580498. Acosta-Garcia
also particularly emphasises the model provided by Catherine of Siena (through the hagiography of Raymond of
Capua) for Teresa’s Spanish ‘mothers’.
38
century.”130 Much of Cisneros’s monastic reform was directed towards female piety, resulting in
“greater role[s]” for women in the “educational and administrative life” of convents.131 He was, in
Weber’s eyes, not just an advocate of vernacular accessibility, but an enthusiast of female piety and a
champion of female visionaries.132 Therefore, whilst Teresa’s Castilian predecessors may not have
had native ‘mothers,’ they were likely to have had some interaction with the words of their northern
predecessors.
Cisneros was a particular champion of María de Santo Domingo, La Beata de Piedrahita.
Born in Avila just thirty years before Teresa, Maria joined the Dominican Order as a beata and
became a prominent proponent in the Order’s reform. Her ecstatic mysticism and very vocal support
of more austere and penitential modes of religious life not only foreshadow Teresa and her reform of
the Carmelite Order, but render María a controversial figure; despite the support of both Cisneros and
Ferdinand II, María is subject to Inquisitional investigations on four occasions. 133 Despite her own
illiteracy, María constitutes one of the very few (religious) female authors of the period to have been
published in her own lifetime.134 As Surtz, highlights, María’s mysticism demonstrates a similar
sense of Christological and corporeal devotion as her northern predecessors; 135 in particular her focus
upon the side wound and its transformation into roses and lilies echoes the “traditional motif” of the
garden of the soul and Catherine of Siena’s vineyard imagery. 136
130 Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography, 51.

133 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 86; Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of
Femininity, 25-6.
134 Her Libro de la oración c. 1518.
136 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 94; “Each of you has your own
vineyard, your soul, in which your free will is the appointed worker during this life. Once the limit of your life has
passed, your will can work neither for nor for evil; but while you live it can till the vineyard of your soul where I
have placed it.” Catherine of Siena, The Dialogue, trans. Suzanne Noffke (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), 60.
39
In a similarly arboreal vein, Teresa de Cartagena pens her Arboleda de los Enfermos, a
spiritual treatise propounding the benefit of physical illness and suffering in the pursuit of interior
life. A member of a powerful converso family in Burgos, Teresa (de Cartagena) begins to lose her
hearing at a young age, and this progressive deafness comes to block out exterior distractions
allowing her to plant the earth of her soul with groves of doctrine and spiritual consolation.137
Through a mix of personal experience and biblical and patristic citations, this previous Teresa
demonstrates the scriptural nature of Castilian women’s writing.138 When this Teresa comes under
criticism for taking up the (male) pen, she composes a fierce textual defence of her own capacity and
mystical justification for such an un-womanly act.139
Born just two years before Cisneros’s death in 1517, Teresa’s (of Avila) profession into
monastic life and her own mystical conversion are cloaked in this climate of reform and female
writing. Yet her birth into the Cepeda y Ahumada family in 1515 sits in a calm before the
Inquisitorial storm; like Teresa de Cartagena, our Teresa emerges from converso lineage: her mother
a ‘Cristiana Vieja,’ a lover of romance literature, and her father a Jewish converso, himself a lover of
“good [Christian] books.”140
The apparent wave of tolerance within the Church was contrasted by its approach to
Castille’s Jewish population. The Exigit sincerae devotionis affectus signed in 1478 and the
subsequent establishment of Spain’s Holy Inquisition mark a summit in the long history of religious
tension and intolerance. The forced conversion of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries did not solve
137 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 21, 23.
139 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 19. See: Teresa de Cartagena,
“Admiraçión Operum Dey,” Arboleda de los Enfermos y Admiraçión Operum Dey, ed. Lewis Joseph Hutton (Madrid:
Imprenta Aguirre, 1967).
140 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 34, 36; Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 147.
40
the “Converso problem” and provoked a longstanding suspicion of Jewish converts’ “religiosity.”141
Many of these ‘new Christians’ were suspected of only the outward performance of Catholic practice
and a covert continuation of Jewish worship in private.142 Teresa’s paternal grandfather, Juan
Sanchez de Toledo, falls foul of such suspicions, undergoing an auto da fé in June 1485. He
subsequently flees with his sons to Avila, under the (less Jewish) name of Sanchez de Cepeda.
Although Teresa never acknowledges this inheritance, and arguably makes great effort to
demonstrate her Christianity, its influence upon her mysticism has been well discussed. 143
Furthermore, the presence of the Inquisitors – the typically Dominican letrados as she calls them –
marks her writing and reform.144 In particular, the clerics, confessors, and advisors who order and
oversee Teresa’s authorial act largely belong to this same Inquisitional Order. Thus, whilst her texts
chime with a distinct, individual voice, there is always already a (gendered) authoritative presence
which lurks amongst the words on her page.145
This period of Cisneros’s reform also sees the rise of another group who arouse the suspicion
and persecution of the Inquisition, los alumbrados. Spanish Illuminism developed as groups of lay
and religious men and women came to meet in private spaces to freely read and commentate upon the
words of scripture. The name alumbrados, thought to be a derogatory slur, refers to the idea that
141 Yonatan Glazer-Eytan, “Incriminating the Judaizer: Inquisitors, Intentionality, and the Problem of Religious
Ambiguity after Forced Conversion,” in Forced Conversion in Christianity, Judaism and Islam: Coercion and Faith in
Premodern Iberia and Beyond, eds. Mercedes García-Arenal, Yonatan Glazer-Eytan (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 235,
https://search-ebscohost-com.bris.idm.oclc.org/login.aspx?direct=true&db=nlebk&AN=2276955&site=ehost-live.
142 Yonatan Glazer-Eytan, “Incriminating the Judaizer,” 235.
143 For example: Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love; Deidre Green, Gold in the Crucible. Teresa of Avila and the Western
Mystical Tradition (Shaftesbury: Element, 1989); Catherine Swietlicki, Spanish Christian Caballa: the works of Luis
de Leon, Santa Teresa de Jesus and San Juan de la Cruz (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1986).
144 Peter Tyler, Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 34.
145 The presence of these (male) on-lookers is tangible within Teresa’s autographs, the handwritten interjections
and corrections of her confessors (e.g., Diego de Yanguas, Pedro Ibañez, or Jerónimo Gracian) littering the margins
of her pages. These are listed in the footnotes of Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink’s Obras Completas.
For example see: Teresa de Jesús, Obras Completas de Santa Teresa de Jesús, eds. Efren de la Madre de Dios and
Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2003), 46, 61, 115, 199, 419, 490, 512, 513, 571.
41
anyone could come to individual understanding of Scripture when ‘illumined’ by the Holy Spirit.146
Weber highlights two particular “sociological anomalies” that situate the movement within the wider
context of the early 1500s: (1) the movement attracted many conversos, and (2) featured female
preachers in positions of leadership such as Isabel de la Cruz, “the true mother and teacher” of the
alumbrados in Toledo.147
Whilst Teresa could be linked to these categories, Weber argues that she could not be
categorised as such in terms of her belief. She does not share their Protestant-esque rejection of
sacramentality and the worship of the saints, nor their disavowal of exterior works; 148 nor does she
mirror their non-Christological focus.149 Yet, Weber argues, Teresa lives “under the shadow” of
“ecclesiastical misogyny” and moves to defend herself from the Inquisition’s “ever-expanding
definition of Illuminism.”150 Apart from her position as a female writer, it is the practices of
recogimiento (recollection) and mental prayer that increase the potency of her Inquisitional
suspicion, given their connections to alumbrado notion of dejamiento (abandon) and ever increasing
Inquisitional suspicion of interior spirituality. Whilst precise definitions of dejamiento are vague, the
term broadly refers to a manner of mental prayer which empties the mind and surrenders the will to
God.151 As we shall see, this notion has clear reflections in the prayer-full practice Teresa describes
in writing, yet Peter Tyler outlines one key distinction: where Teresa’s recogimiento calls to a
withdrawal once or twice a day in search of contemplation, the alumbrado’s maintained that

147 See Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 22-3.
149 “La espiritualidad iluminista no es Cristocéntrica.” Antonio Márquez, Los alumbrados: orígenes y filosofía
(Madrid: Taurus, 1972), 35. Augusta E. Foley underlines the lack of christocentricity – the focus on the Father
without the mediation of the Son – as a key factor which distinguished the alumbrados from ‘los recogidos’ (those
practicing recollection). See: Augusta E. Foley, “El Alumbradismo y sus posibles orígenes,” (paper presented at VIII
Congreso de la Asociación Internacional de Hispanistas, Providence, August 1983), 528,
https://dialnet.unirioja.es/servlet/articulo?codigo=876403.
151 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 24; Peter Tyler, Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul, 43-4.
42
withdrawal was not necessary and one could be in constant contemplation of/with the Divine without
the risk of falling into sin.152 It is Francisco de Osuna’s Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, Tyler argues,
that provides Teresa with the vocabulary to express her recollective practice in a way that
distinguishes her from the alumbrados.153
The Inquisition conflates the rise of the alumbrados with the development of
Protestantism/Lutheranism and humanism/Erasmianism, both at home and on the continent.154 Their
edict condemning the alumbrados in 1525 marks a turning point from the previous decade’s
sentiment of reform towards an increasingly reactionary approach to, and persecution of, interior
spirituality. As Weber highlights, the implications of this reactionary movement are particularly
targeted at women.155 Not only are alumbradas like Isabel de la Cruz and María de Cazalla
condemned, but the reactionary reforms that come into place seek to drastically increase control of,
and decrease accessibility to, Scripture for women and the laity. Women, in particular, “are deemed
to be mentally incapable of understanding the texts and inherently susceptible to diabolical
influence.”156 Of particularly painful relevance for Teresa is Chief Inquisitor Valdes’s Index of
Prohibited Books in 1559. This ban ‘undoes’ much of Cisneros literary reform, banning all
vernacular scripture and guides to prayer. Juan de Avila ’s Audi Filia, Francisco de Osuna’s Tercer
Abecedario, and the works of Pedro de Alcántara, are only a few of Teresa’s favoured texts which
come under prohibition. Thus, when Teresa takes up the pen in the early 1560s, she is writing
directly into this climate of spiritual tension. The writing of her first text (Vida) was in fact ordered as
152 Peter Tyler, Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul, 44.

43
a defence of her practice of mental prayer against claims of illuminist dejamiento and diabolic
possession.157
Weber argues that the language of her mystical texts, and thus by extension her mysticism, is
defined by the socio-political religious context in which she puts pen to paper. Drawing upon Victor
Garcia de la Concha’s assessment that Teresa utilises a “rhetoric for women,” a way of writing
appropriate for and accessible to women, Weber argues that Teresa develops a conscious style of
writing to navigate her contemporary context.158 In this “rhetoric of femininity,” Teresa writes “as
she believed women were perceived to speak,” her texts demonstrating a non-traditional use of
rhetorical strategies that plays upon stereotypes of women’s speech to make her writing acceptable to
her male superiors, and yet instructive for her female followers. 159 For Weber, Teresa’s written
language is not a result of any feminine charm, but a “self-conscious” and “subversive” manner of
speaking which “allowed her to break the Pauline silence.” 160
“I never dared to begin to pray without a book;”161
Where Weber has convincingly demonstrated the socio-political contextuality of Teresa’s writing,
Tyler has clearly outlined the mystical and textual inheritance of her mysticism. Through a
‘conversation’ with the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tyler traces Teresa’s mystical heritage not
only to her widely acknowledged mystical father Augustine, but also to the works of Pseudo-
Dionysius and the neo-platonic mystical tradition.162 Through this comparative approach, Tyler
uncovers two textual lineages or “mystical strategies” that tie Teresa to the apophatic tradition of

158 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 11; Victor García de la Concha, El Arte literario de Teresa de Avila
(Barcelona: Ariel, 1978).
161 “En todos éstos, si no era acabando de comulgar, jamás osava comenzar a tener oración sin un libro; que tanto
temía mi alma estar sin él en oración.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 44. All translations of Teresa are my own
unless otherwise specified.
162 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse.”
44
Theologia Mistica:163 firstly, a strategy of deconstruction/unknowing performed through
disorientation, contradiction, and paradoxical language which serves to transform and prepare the
soul for the unknowable Divine;164 this unknowing of the Unknowable is inherently a question of
eros, attained through a strategy of affectivity/embodiment which is not any quest for the erotic itself,
but a means of leading the “reader to embodied action.”165 Thus, Tyler argues Teresa’s texts intend to
provoke a “change of aspect” in her reader through a language which does not ‘say’ but ‘shows.’166
Teresa employs word-images not as static instances of language, rather her mystic speech stands “in
incomplete relation to the reader” who must complete the text by acting.167 Teresa’s texts are not
simply a record of her mysticism, but participatory guides to union which are designed to be
practised by the reader.
For Tyler, Teresa’s receives her ‘schooling’ in these central aspects of affective
Dionysianism through the work of one of her favoured authors, Francisco de Osuna who is himself
indebted to Jean Gerson’s Mistica Theologia and the works of the Parisian Victorines four centuries
earlier. 168 From Osuna’s Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, Teresa inherits the foundations of her own
mystical practice and learns a mode of interior (mental) prayer, recogimiento, which entwines those
strategies of deconstruction/unknowing and affectivity/embodiment.169 In fact, it is this text which
she credits with the initiation of her interior path.170 This particularly Castilian recogimiento can be
envisioned as a search for the Divine performed through concentrated cognitive effort, “usually
163 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 11, 13.
164 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse, 157.

165 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 296.
166 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 168, 302.
170 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 42-3.
45
beginning with a meditation on the Passion;”171 in contrast to practices of illuminist dejamiento,
recogimiento proposes an intentional (re)orientation of the mind towards the interior, and active
withdrawal from without to within, not passive abandon.172
Whilst many of her Jesuit and mendicant contemporaries practised spiritual lives with an
outward and preacherly approach, Teresa’s mystical thought was fundamentally founded upon
monastic seclusion and spiritual withdrawal. 173 Her own evolution of this recollective practice is
most easily envisioned through her image of the soul as a diamond castle, an architecture of
withdrawal which clearly reflects Osuna’s vision of defending the castle of one’s heart. 174 For Teresa,
recogimiento is a process of retreat in which one intur(n)s within the self in search of the Divine who
resides within the cryptic depths of the soul.175
Considerar nuestra alma como un castillo todo de un diamante u muy claro cristal, adonde
hay muchos aposentos, ansí como en el cielo hay muchas moradas.176
171 Francisco de Osuna, Third Spiritual Alphabet, trans. Mary E. Giles (London: SPCK, 1981), 5; Edward Howells, John
of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 62.
172 Francisco de Osuna, Third Spiritual Alphabet, 5.
173 For example, Juana de la Cruz, a Franciscan abbess and mystic only 35 years Teresa’s superior, was known not
only for her mystical raptures but for the fact that her public preaching was authorised by the Church. Surtz
designates Juana as one of the key figures (’mothers’) from whom Teresa inherits her literary tradition.
174 “Quiso decir el Sabio que guardasemos el corazón con toda diligencia, como se guarda el castillo que está
cercado, poniendo contra los tres cercadores tres amparos: contra la carne, que nos cerca con deleites, poner la
castidad; contra el mundo, que nos rodea con riquezas, poner la liberalidad y limosna, contra el demonio, que no
persigue con rencores y envidia, poner la caridad. Hemos de guardar el corazón con toda guarda, porque el
examen suyo es el examen de toda nuestra vida.” Francisco de Osuna, Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, ed. Melquiades
Andrés (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1972), 198.
175 The location of Teresa’s soul is examined in chapter 3 where the question of the soul’s crypt or the encryption
of the soul is further developed. The origin of the ‘crypt’ terminology comes from Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,
191.
176 “Consider our soul like a diamond castle or very clear crystal, within which there are many chambers, just as in
Heaven there are many dwelling places.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas del Castillo Interior,” in Obras Completas
de Santa Teresa de Jesús, ed. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores
Cristianos, 2018), 472.
46
Teresa envisions the soul as a crystalline architecture encrypted within the body. In recogimiento her
soul is both the castle and the spiritual pilgrim who journeys through its self as the castle, traversing
seven realms of infinite moradas (dwelling places), within the most central of which dwells her
Beloved. Along this path the soul moves from active recollective practice to passive mystical prayer
states until finally, in the ultimate moradas, the spirit becomes undone in that of the Divine. To begin
this transformational journey, one turns to enter the soul-castle through the door of prayer and
meditation:
La puerta para entrar en este castillo es la oración y consideración: no digo más mental que
vocal, que como sea oración ha de ser con consideración.177
In her castle Teresa speaks of prayer and meditation, yet these are in fact inextricably entwined in the
form of mental prayer to which she is inclined. Whilst this interior mode of devotion was
ecclesiastically unpopular for its illuminist associations, it was of essential importance to her
mystical practice. In her model of Teresian prayer states, Jess Byron Hollenback clarifies Teresa’s
distinction between “crude vocal prayer” and oración mental insofar as mental prayer consists of
“recollective concentration” and “meditative rumination” that requires that the pray-er concentrate
upon both the meaning of the words and the nature of the Divine to whom they are addressed. 178 In
Teresa’s own words: mental prayer is a “conversation between friends,” speaking alone with Him
177 “The door to enter into this castle is prayer and meditation: I do not mean more mental than vocal, as for it to
be prayer it must be performed with meditation.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 474. To avoid confusion
between ideas of mystical contemplation and cognitive or exploratory contemplation, here I translate Teresa’s use
of ‘consideración’ as meditation in so far as it embodies the sense of active contemplation and consideration of
Christ’s Passion.
178 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State
University Press, 1996), 535, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.5325/j.ctv14gp18g.
47
whom we know loves us, and upon whose nature one must think deeply to understand how to speak
to Him.179
Tomamos un paso de la Pasión, digamos como el prendimiento, y andamos en este misterio
considerando por menudo las cosas que hay que pensar en él y que sentir.180
Teresa’s conception of this meditative prayer is most transparently defined when she calls the reader
to take a scene from the Passion and mentally wander within the narrative to see all there is to think
and feel. This prayer-full process is grounded in text, “buenos libros,” scriptural and Passionate
devotional guides offering Teresa the “starting point for meditative prayer.” 181 Whilst her gender
largely precluded her from the direct study of Scripture, “there is good reason to think that she read
some of the Bible in the vernacular before it was banned in 1559.”182 Cisneros’s reform encouraged
the reading of the Bible in the vernacular, particularly through the Polyglot Bible of Acalá de
179 “Que no es otra cosa oración mental, a mi parecer, sino tratar de amistad, estando muchas veces tratando a
solas con quien sabemos nos ama.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 61; “conversation between friends” is
Bernard McGinn’s translation of this passage. See: Bernard McGinn, “‘One word will contain within itself a
thousand mysteries’,” 27; “¿Quién dirá que es mal, si comienza a rezar las horas u el rosario, que comience a
pensar con quién habla y quien es el que habla, para ver cómo le ha de tratar?” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de
Perfección,” in Obras Completas de Santa Teresa de Jesús, ed. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink
(Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2018), 329. Steggink and de la Madres’s compilation of Teresa’s Obras
contains two different editions of her Camino de Perfección: the Codices de el Escorial (1564) and the Codices de
Valladolid (1569). This map draws upon both editions, often citing statements which occur in some form or
another in both manuscripts. However, where occurrence and phrasing differ, I indicate the edition within which a
particular statement occurs. For example, the sentiment of the quote cited here occurs within both Codices, but
the particular phrasing is taken from the Escorial edition.
180 ““We take a scene from the Passion, let us say the arrest, and we wander within this mystery considering all the
things there are to think of in it and to feel.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 550.
181 “Diome la vida haver quedado ya amistad de buenos libros.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 40. In
particular, Teresa advocates for the use of guides such as Ludolph of Saxony’s Vita Christi and Juan de Padilla’s
Retablo de la Vida de Cristo. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Constituciones,” in Obras Completas de Santa Teresa de Jesús,
eds. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2018), 821.There are
striking similarities between these Carthusian authors' visual and sensory didactic language and the language of
Teresa’s castle.
182 Hilary Pearson, “The ‘Library’ of Santa Teresa: Teresa of Avila’s Sources and their Effect on her Writings,” in St
Teresa of Avila : Her Writings and Her Life, eds. Terence O’Reilly, Colin Thompson and Lesley Twomey (Cambridge:
MHRA Legenda, 2018), 172, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.2307/j.ctv16km1sb.
48
Henares of 1520.183 It also highly likely that Teresa had read Los Evangelios y Epístolas con sus
Exposiciones, which Román Llamas credits with the spread of “biblical knowledge among the literate
laity.”184 Thus, whilst she rarely quotes verbatim, as Elisa Estévez López argues, Teresa’s texts are
flooded with a sense of Scripture and her notion of recollection is inherently tied to text and
reading.185 This recollective reading practice strongly echoes the interpretative processes of Lectio
Divina and monastic reading in which liturgy, practice, and prayer give meaning to the Word. Yet as
Carrera highlights, practices of recogimiento extended beyond the strictly scriptural towards
devotional texts;186 thus in this thesis I use the term ‘scriptural’ broadly to encompass devotional
texts detailing Christ’s Passion. Like Hugh of St Victor, Teresa’s conception of prayerful meditation
functions as a means of “penetrating into [the] profundities” of the text, moving beyond the words on
the page towards embodied visualisation, experience and understanding of the Passion.187
En todos éstos, si no era acabando de comulgar, jamás osava comenzar a tener oración sin
un libro; que tanto temía mi alma estar sin él en oración.188
In the context of medieval monasticism, Rachel Fulton argues that whilst “this process of moving
from the exterior to the interior sense of words” laid the foundations for prayer, “it was not, however,
identical with prayer.”189 Yet for Teresa, these three stages (lectio, meditatio, oratio) were far more
entangled, and she often dared not begin to pray without a book before her; 190 meditation was an
183 Hilary Pearson, “The ‘Library’ of Santa Teresa,” 169. See also: Rowan Williams, “Teresa of Avila as a Reader of
the Gospels,” in St Teresa of Avila: Her Writings and Her Life, eds. Terence O’Reilly, Colin Thompson and Lesley
Twomey (Cambridge: MHRA Legenda, 2018), https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.2307/j.ctv16km1sb.
184 Hilary Pearson, “The ‘Library’ of Santa Teresa,” 169; Román Llamas, Biblia en Santa Teresa (Madrid: Editorial de
Espiritualidad, 2007), 21-2.

185 Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” Estudios Ecclesiasticos 91, no. 357 (2016),
257, https://revistas.comillas.edu/index.php/estudioseclesiasticos/article/view/7010.
187 Hugh of St Victor, Didascalion, 92-3.
188 “In all these, if I had not just received communion, I never dared to begin to pray without a book; my soul
feared so much to be without Him in prayer.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 44.
189 Rachel Fulton, “Praying with Anselm at Admont,” 710-11.
190 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 44.
49
integral strand in the cocoon of mental prayer, one that could not be spun without a textual source for
interpretation, inspiration, and interior visualisation: “para Teresa la lectura de la Escritura es
oración. Ora la Palabra y con la Palabra.”191
As such, her recogimiento clearly reflects the exegetical, textual, and practical flavours
within mysticism’s orig(e)ns in scriptural interpretation. As we shall see in chapter 2, Teresa’s
mystical practice performs an experiential textual interpretation, a ‘seeing’ of the Divine Truth
through meditative visualisation from the words on the scriptural page.
Traversing the castle
This journey through the castle encapsulates Teresa’s movement across the human-Divine void; its
crystalline architecture offers both the “measure” of the distance and the vehicle for its navigation.192
Much of Teresa’s mystical corpus describes her practice and experience through a language of
spiritual pilgrimage, a camino de perfección or path toward spiritual perfection. Her mystical
writings describe both her means of recollection through text and the para-mystical phenomena that
demarcate her journey through her self-as-castle, tracing her path towards the Divine. As such
Teresa’s framing of her mysticism through spatial imagery not only provides a structure through
which to navigate her estrangement, but also comes to infer the landscape of her interior pilgrimage.
Through the “kaleidoscope” of word-images she lays before the reader, her writings hint at a glimpse
into the topography of that mystical distance. 193 This research seeks to trace the form and function of
that mystical landscape through the “threshold” of her texts.194
191 “For Teresa the reading of Scripture is prayer. Praying the Word with the Word.” Elisa Estévez López, “Santa
Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 262.
192 Alain Cugno, St John of the Cross, 17.
193 See Barbara Mujica, “Beyond Image: The Apophatic Kataphatic Dialectic in Teresa of Avila,” Hispania 84, no. 4
(2001), 744, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.2307/3657835.

194 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126.
50
The notion of mysticism as distance is not alien to Teresian studies. Cugno’s definition
emerges from his work on Teresa’s mystical compatriot John of the Cross. Furthermore, Michel de
Certeau argues that for Teresa “the book acts as a threshold,” the text establishes a border that both
marks her separation from the Divine and yet offers the means for traversing that mystical
distance.195 Under the notion of “absolute reading,” De Certeau argues that that the sixteenth and
early seventeenth centuries saw the development of a manner of ‘spiritual reading’ through which
“the reader is no longer in a passive relation” to the meaning of the text.196 This “spiritual reading” –
spiritual as the spirit is the speaking entity in the text – is a practice “that shows [the reader] how to
circulate in a space of signs, and how to use that space,” just as a traveller would use a textual
guide.197 De Certeau acknowledges the heritage of this practice in Lectio Divina, yet he distinguishes
it from that medieval tradition. Whilst Lectio Divina’s hermeneutical nature belies a preoccupation
with truth and meaning, De Certeau argues that ‘absolute/spiritual reading’ is more concerned with
the use of the text itself.198
Yet for De Certeau this “threshold” is only half the text’s function; Teresa’s process of
recollective reading transforms the text from “placeholder” into “a garden of affectivity.”199 This
paradisus claustralis is a “‘passionate’ use of the book,” an action which mystically draws the reader
toward dialogue with, and action for, the Other.200 Through prayer-full meditation Teresa opens the
door to the castle and moves over that textual “threshold” into the psychological terrain of the soul
that in turn demarcates her journey towards the Beloved. 201 Thus, one could read Teresa’s mystical

196 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable 120.
199 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126, 128.
51
practice as a means of moving beyond the literal meaning of the words on the scriptural page,
allowing her to turn within her self and wander through her own psyche.
In her quest to read Teresa through the lens of De Certeau, Mary Frohlich develops this
understanding of the function of the soul-castle image for both Teresa and her reader. Building upon
his “threshold,” Frohlich argues that in parallel to the space the castle unfolding for/within Teresa,
the reader of her castle opens up their own “lived space of meaning.”202 When sat upon the shelf the
Interior Castle constitutes a place, yet when “practised” by the reader the castle creates and becomes
a “lived space of meaning,” created “in relation to linguistic signs that spark intellectual and
imaginative scenarios.”203 In parallel to the way in which Teresa moves beyond the words of the
Passion towards a visual and embodied understanding of the text, the reader is able to construct the
castle-space through their own referential linguistic networks. Michael Sells proposes a very similar
notion of the mystical text as a “meaning event,” a public space of signification which unfolds for/in
the reader.204 This research proposes that it is possible to follow Teresa’s journey through the text
and into that “lived space of meaning” that lies beyond her words on the page, and which comes to
constitute the landscape of that mystical distance. 205
Mapping the castle
Frohlich compares the practising of Teresa’s castle to urban geography: just as “the city pedestrian
creates spaces in relation to geographical places, the reader creates spaces in relation to linguistic
signs,” inhabiting and developing networks of lived meaning.206 A similarly illuminating comparison
202 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126; Mary Frohlich, “The Space of Christic Performance: Teresa of Avila
through the lens of Michel de Certeau,” in Visualizing Medieval Performance, ed. Elina Gertsman (Aldershot:
Ashgate, 2008), 162; Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126.
203 Mary Frohlich, “The Space of Christic Performance,” 162.
204 Michael A. Sells, Mystical Languages of Unsaying (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 9-10. The
connection of this idea with Paul Ricoeur’s reading of hermeneutics as also discussed by Mark McIntosh. See: Mark
A. McIntosh, Mystical Theology (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998), 130.
52
could lie with methods of psychoanalytic geography in this quest to map the formal function of this
psycho-linguistical mystical distance. The Freudian practice of ‘evenly-suspended attention’
proposes a mode of listening to the analysand without prioritising any particular part of the subject’s
discourse in order to uncover the unconscious connections within their words.207 Within the realms of
psychoanalytic geography this method is appropriated into a methodological “attendance to the
emotions and affects contained in, or represented by, words and symptoms, the networks of meanings
associated with words and actions, the partiality and situatedness of knowledge, and the dynamic
blurring of the boundaries between the researcher and the researched.”208 Such an attendance to the
affects, images, and experiences contained within the words appears suitably mystical, yet this
method also speaks to the referential function of language, how words come to mean through their
connections to other words, images and experiences.
In much the same way, Teresa’s castle is constructed from interwoven strands of textual
visuals that speak to the experience of the soul. These are not illustrative accounts of her experience,
but rather something ‘like’ what and how she felt within the Divine encounter. 209 This Divine
ineffability finds further parallel within Lacanian psychoanalysis in which the analysand is often
unable to verbally express the issue at hand;210 the epicentre of their analysis is unspeakable and as
such “the analysand’s discourse traces a contour around that which it hovers about, circles, and
skirts.”211 Similarly, under James’s classification of ineffability, the mystical texts which vividly
describe such ‘unsayable’ encounters weave together complex imagery in order to come close to
207 Jean Laplanche and Jean-Bertrand Pontalis, The Language of Psychoanalysis (London: Karnac Books, 1988), 43,
https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bristol/detail.action?docID=709548#.
208 Paul Kingsbury and Steve Pile, “Introduction,” in Psychoanalytic Geographies, eds. Paul Kingsbury and Steve Pile
(Farnham: Ashgate, 2014), 6.

https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bristol/reader.action?docID=1683167&ppg=1.
209 The relationship between Teresa’s experience, language and her use of comparisons or metaphor is further
explored in chapter 4.
210 Bruce Fink, The Lacanian Subject: Between Language and Jouissance (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2017), 28, https://www-jstor-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/stable/j.ctt1jktrqm.

211 Bruce Fink, The Lacanian Subject, 28.
53
conveying that which they ‘saw.’ Whilst this research does not follow James’s classification,
Teresa’s texts can be regarded in such a manner. Through her kaleidoscopic flood of word-images
she continuously encircles her self, weaving together multiplicitous strands of imagery in order to
touch upon the Divine epicentre of her journey.212 For Frohlich this constant encircling and Teresa’s
lack of systematisation speak to the function of Teresa’s texts as more of a tour than a map;213 the
reader follows Teresa’s personal journey, framed through the shared “Christian itinerary.”214 This
research argues that by following Teresa’s textual footsteps one can trace a fuller sense of the
topography through which she journeys. Drawing upon these modes of psychoanalytic approach, the
project seeks to trace the textual to visual contours that form her interior landscape.
Teresa is no stranger to psychoanalytical readings, and the very nature of her texts is
inherently psychological insofar as they speak to the form and function of the soul. Whilst this aspect
of her work has been widely addressed, this research draws upon Julia Kristeva’s approach to the
saint, in particular her fictional biography through which Kristeva performs a dialogic and
pseudonymous analysis of ‘Teresa My Love.’ Through the guise of her alter-ego (Sylvia LeClerq)
Kristeva traces Teresa’s life in writing with a (unsurprising) focus on Teresa’s relationship with her
(f/F)ather and her own personal relationship with the Saint.215 This research seeks to tread the
psychoanalytical and dialogical path laid by Kristeva whilst guiding the journey towards a more
visually engaged destination. By moving over De Certeau’s “threshold” and into Frohlich’s “lived
space of meaning,” this research does not seek to perfectly mimic Teresa’s unconscious connections
between words and things.216 Rather, this imitative practice-based approach positions the researcher
212 Barbara Mujica, “Beyond Image,” 744.

215 See: Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love.
216 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126; Mary Frohlich, “The Space of Christic Performance,” 162.
54
closer to the original (mystical) function of the text, enabling me to follow the referential networks of
her texts and begin to map the structures of her mystical landscape that lie beyond her words on the
page.
Mapping Objectives
‘Mapping’ implies objectivity, a systematic rendering of the terrain traversed. Yet this is not the
intention of this thesis, nor would I argue is it appropriate to attempt any concrete map of Teresa’s
mystical interior. Teresa is not a systematic theologian, whilst her texts are flooded with intriguing
patterns, these are woven with a certain stylistic vagary and contradiction. As this approach seeks to
gently untangle the patterns of language and text with her mystical practice, it appears insensitive to
‘flatten out’ the contours of her thought.
Furthermore, I am not Teresa; I cannot exactly imitate and reconstruct the patterns of her
mind. Her texts may unfold a “lived space of meaning,” but this is not any exact recreation of her
experience, but rather a parallel movement through her text. To paraphrase Paul Ricoeur, I cannot
make her experience "my own experience… Yet, nevertheless, something passes from [her] to
[me]… This something is not the experience as experienced, but its meaning.”217 In literary terms,
Teresa is ‘dead’ for all (her) intents and purposes as a “gap appears” through the act of writing which
cleaves the text from her authorial intentions.218 As such, as Roland Barthes argues, any search for
the ‘objective’ truth of the author’s perspective is futile. 219 Whilst one could argue that mystical text
has a practical participatory nature which may transcend this death of intent, Mark McIntosh
217 Mary Frohlich, “The Space of Christic Performance,” 162; Paul Ricoeur, Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the
Surplus of Meaning (Fort Worth Texas: Texas Christian University Press, 1976), 16.
218 Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” in The Rustle of Language, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Hill
and Wang, 1986), 49.

219 Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” 54.
55
similarly argues that “we have no access to the experience of the text author.”220 Instead, the mystical
text ‘unfolds’ a new space of meaning “that is not bound by the author’s experience.” 221
This approach does not seek mystical union nor a resurrection of the ‘true reality’ of Teresa’s
experience. Following Barthes and Ricoeur, this approach is almost “countertheological,” prioritising
the act of reading and the reader as the site of “inscription” and significance; 222 following De
Certeau, it seeks to be “respectful of [such interpretative] distances.” 223 From this position, the
approach develops a new understanding of the recollective experience of text. By prioritising the
Teresa’s writings as guides to recollection, the map aims to weave a new vision of her recollective
process and its functional relationship with text and language.
As such, ‘mapping’ speaks not to systematisation, but to a recording of a path through the
space “opened up” by Teresa’s texts.224 This mapping is a disentanglement, a suggestive tracing that
explores the spatial interiority of her (relationship to) texts. It takes its model from her own imagery:
the crystal castle, the prayerful camino. Both images speak to an implicit mapping, a visual
framework for the spatial navigation of the interior. Here ‘mapping’ offers a framework for
untangling the multiplicity of Teresa’s texts, her patterns, structures and paths of significance with an
emphasis upon movement. Thus, this research performs a subtle or suggestive mapping, one that is
respectful of the deferrals between reader and text, text and author, word, sign, and meaning.225
220 Mark A. McIntosh, Mystical Theology, 130.

221 Mark A. McIntosh, Mystical Theology, 130.
222 Roland Barthes, “The Death of the Author,” 54.
223 Michel De Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” Heterologies: Discourse on the Other, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 2006), 83.

225 Here I both paraphrase De Certeau’s “respectful of distances,” and allude to Derrida’s notion of différance, the
full significance of which is outlined in the glossary. See: Michel De Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 83; Jacques Derrida,
Speech and Phenomena: and Other essays on Husserl’s Theory of Signs (Evanston: North West University Press,
1973).
56
Mapping through imitation
Frohlich’s assertion that reading Teresa’s text constitutes ‘practising’ the castle is correct in two
instances: firstly, reading the castle fulfils the practice it outlines and its purpose as a guide to
recollection; secondly, the fulfilment of that intention constitutes an instance of imitation of Teresa’s
own mystical practice. The castle lays before the reader both the space to ‘open up’ and move
through, and the vehicle through itself as that same space. By reading her text, one engages in a chain
of imitative interpretation in which one follows Teresa in parallel to the way in which she moves
towards the Divine along her Christological itinerary.226
It is here we encounter the final vital strand in Teresa’s mystical practice that weaves
together meditation, prayer-full reading, and visualisation: imitation. Teresa not only calls her readers
to follow the path she treads, but that path is one previously trodden by the Beloved Himself. In
calling them to envision Christ’s life and suffering in meditation, Teresa does not simply ask them to
picture the scene of His Passion but to walk within the narrative and examine all there is to see and
feel.227 The origins of this imitative and embodied approach to the text lie entangled with notions of
imitatio Christ and affective piety that were popularised through the later Middle Ages. Though
originally a more ‘European’ tradition, such (a)ffective imitative sentiment permeates medieval
Castile through the works of Bonaventure and Bernard of Clairvaux, both of whom were popular
sources for Castilian Franciscan writers. 228 The authors of meditative Passion guides described
Christ’s life, his suffering and death in vivid detail, encouraging the reader to empathetically and
emotionally engage with His narrative in an embodied manner. Through texts like Thomas à

227 “tomamos un paso de la Pasión, digamos como el prendimiento, y andamos en este misterio considerando por
menudo las cosas que hay que pensar en él y que sentir... es admirable y muy meritoria oración.” Teresa de Jesús,
“Las Moradas,” 550.
57
Kempis’s De Imitatione Christi or Juan de Padilla’s Retablo de la Vida de Cristo, meditation
becomes imitation, a following the Christ-guide as He returns to the Father.
Jessica Boon identifies a specifically Castilian branch of this mystic-Christic imitation which
she terms ‘passio Christi’. She outlines a “crucial difference” between the European imitatio, which
centred upon the humanity of Christ and his living body, and the Castilian passio, the primary focus
of which was the suffering and tortured bodies of the Virgin Mother and Son during His “march
towards death.”229
Otras que no hayan ofendido tanto à nuestro Señor las llevará por otro camino; mas yo
siempre escogería el de padecer, siquiera por imitar à nuestro Señor Jesucristo.230
This fixation upon the broken and suffering body of the Spouse is tangible within Teresa’s mystical
practice, when she speaks of recogimiento it is almost always His last days in the flesh to which she
turns. Furthermore, for Teresa it is not just this visualisation but bodily imitation of her Christ’s
suffering that marks the path to the Divine: “«Ninguno subrirá a mi Padre sino por mí» (no sé si dice
así, creo que sí) y «quien me ve a Mí, ve a mi Padre»”.231 This remark is doubly imitative: Christ is
not only her guide, but His narrative of earthly torture then forms the template for her written
accounts of her mystical journey.232 For Frohlich this second instance performs a sense of
229 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul: Medieval Cognition in Bernardino de Laredo’s Recollection
Method (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012), 43-4, https://doi.org/10.3138/9781442699557.
230 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 526. “Others who have not so offended our Lord He will draw up by another
path; yet I always follow that of suffering, if only to imitate our Lord Jesus Christ.”
231 “«No one will ascend to my Father if not through me» (I do not know if it is said that way, I believe so) and
«whoever sees me, sees my Father».” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 486. This remark comes very close to
quoting Matt 11:27 ”Neither does anyone know the Father, but the Son, and he to whom it shall please the Son to
reveal him” which features in the prologue to Ludolph of Saxony‘s Life of Christ. Teresa also states “que no nos
puede su Majestad hacérnosle mayor, que es darnos vida que sea imitando a lo que vivió su Hijo tan amado.”
Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 579.
232 Frohlich speaks to this same notion as the “systematic framework” of the Christian itinerary. See Mary Frohlich,
“The Space of Christic Performance,” 164.
58
“hospitality” or “shared imaginative space” through which Teresa is able to articulate her mystical
journey.233
As such Teresa’s mysticism constitutes a movement of and through the soul performed under
the cloak of imitation through reading, visualisation, and prayer. She follows His painful footsteps
through the castle, textually manifesting her own spiritual transformation in His terms and
simultaneously calling the reader to follow. Her recollection is an ascension towards the Divine
through the shared human body and the Word-made-Flesh in text. Such Passionate devotion to
scriptural text echoes the similarly sacramental fixation on His eucharistic flesh of her mystical
‘mothers’ and her recollection comes to combine that embodied affectivity with a sense of that
orig(e)nal mystical interpretation. Moreover, her texts instinctively call for an approach guided in
imitation and practice, an emulative engagement with the texts in the manner for which they were
written.
Guides to follow
Fulton argues that monastic prayer requires an experiential and practical approach to be fully
understood. Through the written prayers of St Anselm, Fulton demonstrates prayer as not only the
psychosomatic result of monastic practices, but also a creative practice of making in itself;234 prayers
were written, memorised, constructed rather than simply and crudely recited. Like McGinn, she
argues prayer is “a whole way of life (conversatio), which has to be learned, as it were, from the
body up (or out),” and the performance of which required specific skills and tools, much like an artist
with a paintbrush.235 Thus the only means by which to understand monastic prayer lies “somewhere
in the intersection between making and use;”236 such prayer is an embodied practice that cannot be

234 Rachel Fulton, “Praying with Anselm at Admont,” 707.
235 Rachel Fulton, “Praying with Anselm at Admont,” 707-8, 721; Bernard McGinn, The Presence of God: A History
of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xvi.

59
fully comprehended through traditional desk-based approaches and the only way to understand such
a concept is to experience it through one’s own embodied practice.
As we have seen in Jantzen and Hollywood, the identification of a new approach to the study
of such texts is not restricted to the realms of monastic practice but extends towards a much broader
sense of mysticism(s)’s contextuality. De Certeau calls for a relearning of how to read mystical texts
that is conscious of one’s proximity to or distance from them.237 He seeks to uncover the locus of
mystic speech with the view to establishing a position (a “threshold”) from which its “procedures”
can be analysed. 238 Similarly, his call to a more engaged approach is drawn from the sense of
affectivity and participation inherent within the mystical genre. In arguing that the study of such a
genre requires a maintained relation to the action of writing, he states that ‘mystic speech’ is
constructed in terms of a “power to induce a departure” and echoes James’s musical analogy.239 Yet
his call for an approach conscious of one’s historical distance from the mystical speech act is not
misplaced, but perhaps risks positioning his reading at too great a distance from Teresa’s personal
context as a reader. Whilst he gives a convincing outline of the function of the text for her, his
interpretation perhaps reduces the centrality of Divine presence within her reading practice,
disengaging it from that faith-full practice. He seemingly acknowledges this limitation in his
approach when he declares that his purpose is “to pinpoint the locus established by mystic speech,
leaving for the future a possible analysis of its walk.”240 I would argue that Tyler has gone far to
outline the “gait” of Teresa’s mystic speech in terms of her linguistic strategies, and his emphasis on
the performative aspects of Teresa’s own texts opens the door to other mystical methodologies which
position themselves closer to the function of the mystic text. 241
237 Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 80, 83.

238 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126; Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 82.
239 Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 83.
240 Michel De Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 82.
241 Michel De Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 82; Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 141.
60
The methodological approach for this research lies at the intersection of these calls for a more
mystical approach, Frohlich and Fulton’s calls to practice, and Teresa’s recollective imitation. Not
only does her predilection for imitation offer a foundation for approaching her through the guise her
own practice, but the very nature of that practice as one of embodied experiential understanding
offers a framework for the interpretation of her own texts.
Kristeva has already founded such an imitative approach, a form of dialogic interaction
which arguably establishes a closer proximity to Teresa’s ‘mystic speech’. Her vision of Teresa is
grounded in text, language, and the writing act – and focusses on function of language for Teresa
through a sense of orality, eucharistic devotion and touch through which language and writing speak
to the site of her desire for the Beloved. In particular, she lays her focus upon Teresa’s aquatic
imagery, her “flots d’images sans tableaux,” signifying both Teresa’s connection to the Divine and
the overflowing nature of the union that ensues.242 In her mind it is this watery fiction through which
Teresa comes into contact with her Beloved and metamorphoses in(to) the Divine.243 Yet for
Kristeva, this aquatic imagery is not merely evidence sourced from Teresian text, but an essential
part of her own analysis in writing. Kristeva sympathetically employs watery imagery to weave
together her analysis of Teresa, and from this linguistic proximity she performs a nuanced vision of
Teresa’s imagery – both the images themselves and the overall function of sensorial imagery. This
imitative approach is most tangible in her fictional biography; here her personal relation is both
“respectful of distances” and “remain[s] within a certain experience of writing,” as called for by De
Certeau, and offers Kristeva a proximity to Teresa’s experience in speech and language. 244
242 Julia Kristeva, Thérèse Mon Amour: Sainte Thérèse d’Avila (Paris: Fayard, 2008), 41. “Floods of images without
pictures.” See also: Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 91.
243 “elle [l’eau] maintient la tension entre nous et, tout en me remplissent du divin, m’epargne la folie de me
confondre avec lui.” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila ,” Topique 96, no. 3 (2006), 47-8,
https://doi.org/10.3917/top.096.0039; Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 27.
244 Michel De Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 83.
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Yet Kristeva is perhaps too respectful of her distance from Teresa; unsurprisingly her portrait
is heavily psychoanalytical. Whilst this is her intent, there is a risk of psychopathologising Teresa
post-mortem and reducing her experience. Overall Kristeva navigates this risk well, maintaining a
tension between the colour of Teresa’s experience in text and offering a modern conceptualisation of
her psyche. She proposes Teresa the alexithemic, the epileptic, the cataleptic, the hysteric, but never
identifies one concrete diagnosis. Furthermore, the Freudian perspective offers an interesting view on
Teresa’s familial heritage, her inheritance of a love of books entwined with a variety of father-
figures, which sits in contrast to the more traditional ‘mystical heritage’ outlined by Tyler and other
theological studies.245 Kristeva comes to an understanding of Teresa from this perspective, not
removed from her context(uality) but arguably intensely coloured by Kristeva’s own context. Thus,
this imitation constructs a hybrid image of the saint and the analyst, an image of Kristeva and Teresa
in some form of union.
Further imitative precedence lies with a fellow mystic and her reader. As ‘I, Catherine,’
Rachel Lyon performs imitatio Catherinae in order to explore the radical feminine nature of
Catherine of Siena’s mystical thought.246 Drawing upon the parallel centrality of imitatio Christi
within Catherine’s mysticism, Lyon adopts imitation as a means of understanding Catherine’s voice
and conception of selfhood. Through imitative writing (letters, prayers, dialogues, and translations),
punitive prayer, and emulative reading, she embodies a “shared subjectivity and shared voice” with
her mystical partner.247 Lyon constructs her approach from the foundation of feminist theory and its
preoccupation with embodiment as a means of disrupting phallogocentric systems of knowledge in
order to expose the “radical potential of Catherine’s understanding of self for the contemporary
245 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 159-60.

246 Rachel Lyon, “I, Catherine” (PhD diss., University of Glasgow, 2022), 121,
http://dx.doi.org/10.5525/gla.thesis.82987.
247 Rachel Lyon, “I, Catherine,” 51.
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feminine voice.”248 Whilst Lyon does not directly engage with the visuality of Catherine’s text, her
development of such imitatio Catherinae offers vital precedence for an approach to mystical research
through imitation and creative practice.
Building upon these foundations, this research is performed through an emulative approach
to Teresa’s own mystical practice, a mystical methodology of reading that allows the reader to
envision the hidden realities of that space beyond the word-images on her page. However, when
Fulton calls to an approach by practice she is not suggesting that one should take up the specific craft
of the medieval nun or monk in question.249 Given the contextual and cultural differences a true
imitation would be unattainable.250 Rather, Fulton argues that prayer should be understood by a
(suitably mystical) analogy, through a “skill that one has practiced oneself for the better part of one’s
life.”251 It is under this premise that this research approaches Teresa in imitation through my own
practice as an artist. Not only does Fulton compare the craft of the monastic prayer-maker to that of
the artist, but Teresa’s “kaleidoscope” of textual imagery calls to a visually engaged approach. 252
This research does not seek to craft an image of Teresa, but to use imitation to position the researcher
closer to Teresa’s function of the text, and to employ her word-images as an interface through which
to understand the function of her mysticism through embodied engagement with her mystical
practice.
A practice-based approach
In artistic terms, Teresa is no stranger to imitation. Maria Abramovic, Tai Shani, and Nina Danino
have each been drawn to the saint and emulated aspects of her life and writing: Abramovic suspends
herself from the rafters in imitation of Teresa’s famed levitation, and Danino borrows her voice in an
248 Rachel Lyon, “I, Catherine,” 51, 2.

250 For example, socio-cultural backgrounds, religious beliefs, or the end goals of the practice itself.
252 Rachel Fulton, “Praying with Anselm at Admont,” 707-8; Barbara Mujica, “Beyond Image,” 744.
63
almost frenzied and ecstatic performance. 253 Yet, whilst these works explore Teresa through the guise
of imitation, they fail to “consider all that leads up to and prepares for the encounter.” 254 These works
not only perform an image of Teresa in ecstasy but divorce that momentary experience from its
practical context. The intention of this project is not to follow such image focus, but to draw upon
these imitations in order to approach Teresa through my own artistic practice.
This practice explores the historical influence of western Christianity on ideas of mind, soul,
and body. It is an inherently feminist practice, concerned with the lives, work, and experience of
women/females and attitudes towards them. The end destination of my work is predominantly three-
dimensional, but draws upon drawing, writing, photography, painting, and performance to arrive at
that destination. Importantly, whilst the work often manifests in visual form, the ‘making of’ an
object is not my principal concern. My practice is an investigative framework and an approach to
study that allows for the exploration of my research interests in feminist philosophy, religion,
language, visual culture, and psychoanalysis. As an approach to study, this practice affords a certain
fluidity or flexibility; it provides a ‘space’ in which these five areas of disciplinary interest
intermingle, and through which I am able to explore cross-disciplinary ideas through visual and
performative artistic methods. Within this research, fine art, feminist thought, visual culture,
psychoanalysis, religion, and language do not offer six separate methods for research. Rather, my
fine art practice encompasses the primary means of inquiry, offering a framework which weaves
together the other five perspectives into an interdisciplinary lens through which to approach Teresa
and her mysticism [see figure 2]. Similarly, within this practical weaving these five perspectives do
not remain distinct, but overlap at points of language, self, soul, and image. This multi-faceted
253 See: Marina Abramovic, The Kitchen I: Levitation of Saint Theresa, 2009, digital photograph, accessed December
6, 2022, https://www.li-ma.nl/lima/catalogue/art/marina-abramovic/the-kitchen-i-levitation-of-saint-
theresa/17384; Nina Danino, Now I am Yours, 1992, film.
64
practice-based approach seeks to overcome disciplinary boundaries, allowing for an expanded
approach to, and understanding of, Teresa’s textual images (word-images) and the relationship
between word and image which I argue characterises her mysticism.
Figure 2: Practice Diagram
65
The pertinence of the psychoanalytical tone is perhaps best articulated through the work of
Laura Mulvey and her interpretation of the myth of Pandora. Through her reading of this ancient
narrative Mulvey outlines how such female figures need to be analysed in terms of the
phallogocentric language in and through which they were created; these ‘mythical’ figures are
puzzles or rebuses that must be decoded in terms of their latent symbolisation.255 Not only does this
deciphering sound suitably mystical, but Mulvey’s definition of “feminist curiosity” chimes closely
with this project’s quest to explore the topography of meaning that lies beyond and between Teresa’s
words on the page: “an investigation of the enigma, which is, in the process, transformed into an
investigation of the slippages between signifier and signified, that characterize both the structure of
the individual psyche and the shared fantasies of a common culture.”256
This research draws upon Mulvey to examine Teresa’s word-images, approaching Teresa’s
lack of systematisation, her vagaries, and the kaleidoscopic flood of competing images as a puzzle to
decipher. 257 Her works call to a psychoanalytically inclined approach as these layers of word-images
are drawn from phallogocentric sources; not only, as Surtz concludes, did Teresa have few ‘mothers’
in her own tongue, but language itself is phallogocentric, prioritising the masculine voice in the
binary pursuit of meaning.258 Thus, there is a sense that this language is not her own, her texts – her
experience– are coded in anOther’s tongue and thus require some deconstruction in order to uncover
her relationship with language. Such a sense of deconstruction is central to my own practice as a
means of understanding an object’s function and draws from Derridean notions of deconstruction and
différance as an approach to the fluid inter-connections between words and their referent signs,
255 Laura Mulvey, “Pandora: Topographies of the mask and curiosity,” in Sexuality and Space, eds. Beatrice
Colomina (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1992), 60.
256 Laura Mulvey, ”Pandora: Topographies of the mask and curiosity,” 66.
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signifiers and signifieds.259 Hence the quest to untangle the referent networks of meaning that lie
behind Teresa’s text and come to form her mystical landscape.
These theoretical foundations inform my approach to Teresa and the practical methods of
engagement in this research. For example, chapters two and six both draw upon notions of the
signifying structure of phallogocentric language as a means of exploring questions of experience,
transformation, and ineffability.260 On a more practical note, these influences find their expression in
methods of the Surrealist movement, whose quest to mine the “uncultivated” terrain of human
subjectivity – the unconscious in particular – as a source of emancipatory expression draws upon
psychoanalysis.261 In particular, automatic drawing and writing are indebted to Freudian free
association and automatic speech in the advent of psychotherapy. 262 Here they are employed to play
with the sense of accessing something beyond the realms of normal human subjectivity that lies
within both Surrealism and mysticism(s).
Although approaches to doctoral research grounded in (creative) practice appear unusual
within religious fields, such methodologies have developed within the Creative Arts since the 1980s.
There is, however, no widely accepted moniker under which such approaches fall;263 the terms
practice-led, practice-based or practice as research, are often used interchangeably to denote
research in which creative practice guides inquiry. Whilst research constitutes a key function of my
practice, it is important to recognise that research and practice are not one and the same: they are two
259 See Jacques Derrida, Of Grammatology, trans. Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore: John Hopkins University
Press, 1974).
260 The notion of écriture féminine, a feminine/female writing outside of the phallocentric order, is entangled with
psychoanalysis and post-structuralist (French) feminist thought through the works of writers such as Xavière
Gauthier, Hélène Cixous, Luce Irigaray, and Julia Kristeva.
261 Klem James, “Psychoanalysis,” in Surrealism, ed. Natalya Lusty (Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press,
2021), 46, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/9781108862639. See also: André Breton, “First Manifesto of

Surrealism,” in Art in Theory 1900-1990: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, eds. Charles Harrison and Paul Wood
(Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1992).
262 Klem James, “Psychoanalysis,” 48-50.
263 Linda Candy, Practice Based Research: A Guide (Sydney: University of Technology, 2006), 3.
67
separate yet “interdependent and complementary” entities. 264 Most practitioners in any discipline will
engage in some research to inform their personal practice, but this research makes no contribution to
new or shared knowledge. To help clarify this terminological confusion, Linda Candy and Ernest
Edmonds move to distinguish this form of research for practice from the two modes of research in
which practice forms the key angle of approach: practice-based and practice-led research.265 In order
to clarify this methodology and situate it within the relevant discourse, this research will use their
classification of practice-based research as an “original investigation undertaken in order to gain new
knowledge, partly by means of practice and the outcomes of that practice.” 266 Here the process of
making the object take priority; the art-objects made through the inquiry do not illustrate the text or
the research, but they are the subject of that research, ‘illuminated’ by the text.267
Perhaps the most illuminating way to envision this practice-based approach is as a durational
performance that emulates Teresa’s mystical practice as means for approaching her writings. The
performance of an embodied reading of her texts draws together key elements of her practice
(visualisation, dialogue, pilgrimage) with methods from my own practice (drawing, writing,
sculpture). This performance does not constitute the entirety of the research but is the central method
of engagement with Teresa and her materials, and through its performance it becomes the object of
study itself. In this way this methodology is not only grounded in the roots of mysticism as a practice
of textual interpretation, but also as an opportunity for the exegesis of experience. 268
264 Linda Candy and Ernest Edmonds, ”Practice-Based Research in the Creative Arts: Foundations and Futures from
the Front Line,” Leonardo 51, no. 1 (2018) 63-4, https://doi.org/10.1162/LEON_a_01471.
265 Linda Candy and Ernest Edmonds, ”Practice-Based Research in the Creative Arts,” 64.
266 Linda Candy and Ernest Edmonds, ”Practice-Based Research in the Creative Arts,” 63.
267 Linda Candy and Ernest Edmonds, “Practice-Based Research in the Creative Arts,” 65. The artworks produced
through this imitative methodology are included in the Appendix of this thesis. They are not essential in the
understanding of the research, rather, to draw on an arguably over-simplified scientific comparison, they are
records of the experiments that constitute the main actions of the research. The results of these ‘experiments’ are
discussed in the following chapters and can be understood without reference to the artworks, but they are
included here as evidence and illustration of the methods used.
268 Patricia Dailey, ”The Body and Its Senses,” 268.
68
This practice-based approach positions the researcher closer to the function of the text,
engaging with and reflecting upon the experience of the text through the body and as such it offers a
perspective previously unavailable through traditional desk-based approaches. For example, both
Edward Howells’s and Tyler’s comparative approaches unearth new ground regarding Teresa’s
relation to notions of soul, language, and mysticality. Yet whilst they acknowledge the intention of
the mystical text, a distance is maintained between the researcher, the text, and the object of such
research; these modes of study do not necessarily engage with either the object of the research or its
inherently embodied and practical connotations; nor do they fully explore the visuality of Teresa’s
texts.269 Paraphrasing Fulton, one can only come to an understanding of such sources through a
performance that engages with the practices that are both the subject of the text and the vital
contextual framework through which they function:270 “how does one learn such a pattern? … it
takes skill, and not the skill of the researcher sitting down with a set of reference books and
indices.”271 This approach seeks to employ Teresa’s texts in parallel to the textual way in which she
moved towards the Divine, following the path she draws. From this position, this novel methodology
offers a perspective otherwise obscured, a reading of Teresa’s mystical landscape which uncovers
subtleties overlooked by previous approaches and through which a corrective to certain issues of
image, word, and soul can be offered.
From this imitative immersive position, this project argues that it is possible to trace the form
and function of her mysticism in language. Under this performative practice-based approach,
emulation of Teresa’s mystical practice through the guise of my artistic practice forms the primary
mode of reading her texts. Within this methodological performance, three methods are employed as
269 The same could said for Kristeva who, although perhaps more affectively, imitatively, or dialogically engaged,
performs her more practically-engaged (in terms of her psychoanalytic practice) approach in a manner which
maintains that distance between the reader and the textual object of study.
271 Rachel Fulton, “Praying with Anselm at Admont,” 730-1.
69
the principal mode of engagement with Teresa’s texts, alongside more traditional forms of contextual
reading.
70
Figure 3: Practice-to-Practice Approach
71
Part 1: Getting into her practice272
Within Teresa’s mystical heritage, mysticism can be seen as a “hermeneutic practice.” 273 Though her
texts may not be as systematically demonstrative of her method as medieval writers such as Guigo II,
Teresa outlines a prayer-full method of accessing the Truth of the Word beyond the words on the
page.274 Beginning from the “threshold” of her texts, the first part of this research seeks to step into
Frohlich’s “lived space of meaning,” with a view to collecting and connecting Teresa’s words with
their referential signifieds: her other word-images, textual imagery from her spiritual guides and
pieces of scripture. 275 Through reading and visualisation, the process deconstructs these networks,
beginning to trace their form and function within the soul.
Given Teresa’s lack of systematisation, this stage draws together the central aspects of her
mystical approach (visualisation and dialogue) with the four-stage process of Lectio Divina, as
described by Guigo II, as a structure for reading her texts.276 This process draws upon the
psychoanalytic methods of reading mentioned above and employs tools from my artistic practice
(drawing and creative writing) with a view to envisioning and exploring the linguistic function of her
mysticism. The process is performed through a daily reading practice of four of Teresa’s texts: Las
Moradas del Castillo Interior (1577), Meditaciones sobre los Cantares (1574), Camino de
Perfección (1562), Libro de la Vida (1562), chosen for their focus upon her mystical practice and
transformation of the soul. The method consists of the following steps:
272 For the artworks produced by part 1, see the appendix pages 353-372.
273 Niklaus Largier, “Mysticism, Modernity, and the Invention of Aesthetic Experience,” 40.
274 For such an inheritance see: Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse.”
275 Michel de Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126; Mary Frohlich, “The Space of Christic Performance,” 162.
276 On the asystematic nature of Teresa’s writing, see: Michael Gerli, “«El Castillo interior» y el «Arte de la
memoria»” Bulletin Hispanique 86, no. 1-2 (1984), http://dx.doi.org/10.3406/hispa.1984.4524; Ramón Menendez
Pidal, “El Estilo de Santa Teresa.” In La Lengua de Cristobal Colon (Madrid: Espasa Calpe,1958).
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1. Lectio combines Teresa’s confession that she never dared pray without a book, with
Guigo’s call to gaze “diligently into Scripture with all one’s will and intelligence.” 277 In an
intense close reading chapter by chapter I make notes and sketches, collecting and connecting
her word-images, and references to where and how she envisions her mystical transformation
taking place.
2. Meditatio draws together Guigo’s notion of the soul chewing upon the words with
Teresa’s imaginative visualisation of the Passion and Hugh of St Victor’s meditative
conception of diving into the depths of the text by exploring various inter-connections.278
This step concentrates upon visualising and positioning myself in relation to Teresa’s textual
imagery, through which I begin to connect ideas and images from the chapter to other
Teresian texts and those of her spiritual guides. This takes the form of notes, sketching and
mind maps.
3. Oratio takes two forms: firstly, re-reading the chapter aloud towards Teresa focussing
upon the sense of the word in the mouth; secondly, following Teresa’s notion of prayer as a
“conversation between friends,” I compose a letter to her discussing the previous stages and
trying to further the connections between her images and ideas.279 Whilst this dialogue is
one-sided, I speak to her on the page and she is yet to respond, this approach allows for an
immersion in Teresa’s textual world to the extent that my dialogue is subconsciously
influenced by her thought; she does, in a sense, “guide my pen.”280
277 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 44; Guigo II, The Ladder of Monks and the Twelve Meditations, 82-3.
278 Guigo II, The Ladder of Monks and the Twelve Meditations, 82-3; Hugh of St Victor, Didascalion, 92-3.
279 “que no es otra cosa oración mental, a mi parecer, sino tratar de amistad, estando muchas veces tratando a
solas con quien sabemos nos ama.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 61; “conversation between friends” is a
direct quote of Bernard McGinn’s translation of this passage. See Bernard McGinn, “‘One word will contain within
itself a thousand mysteries’,” 27.
280 This phrase is borrowed from Teresa, who uses the phrase “menea la pluma” from within the castle to speak to
the role of the Divine in her own writings. See: Teres de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 522. This Divine involvement in
writing is further examined in chapter 6.
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4. Traditionally through the stages of oratio and contemplatio one moves from active
practice towards more passive states of mystical union. This research, however, does not
propose mystical union with the Divine as its desired object, nor with Teresa; rather it
searches for a sense of her experience and its function, a glimpse of her psychological
landscape through the word-images of her text. Focussing upon the idea that Teresa’s
practice functioned as means glimpsing the secrets of the text, contemplatio looks to draw
together and interweave the findings of the previous stages into a more comprehensible and
map like form. Initially this process takes the form of drawings, written plans, and drafts (of
this thesis) but, like its mystical parallel, the format and time-frame are more fluid and
flexible than the previous stages, and some sense of this contemplative stage extends into the
subsequent parts of the research.
Part 1 of the research functions primarily as a method of data collection, gathering, exploring, and
interweaving Teresa’s word-images and beginning analysis of their significance. Each chapter of her
texts is deconstructed into its constituent words, images, and phrases in order to move over the
“threshold” and to begin to uncover their form and function.281 Here the fabric of the mystic text is
un-picked, patterns are identified ready to be woven back together in the following stages.
Part 2: Getting into her habit282
Part 1 concentrates upon envisioning Teresa’s word-images and untangling the strands of textual
imagery woven throughout the castle. Yet this stage only indicates how or from where Teresa’s
word-images may have emerged and their connections to one another, it offers no insight into the
visual nature of such imagery. Thus, part 2 explores the function of Teresa’s recollective movement
through the castle, her self-navigation in terms of word and image.

282 For the artworks produced in part 2, see the appendix pages 373-395.
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Part 1 was based upon my interpretation of her imagery – the images I conjured from her
words on the page -, thus, to move closer to a sense of Teresa’s own visual/visionary interior, part 2
begins to draw upon potential visible source material for such imagery. To collect and explore such
source material, part 2 employs the sense of pilgrimage within Teresa’s writing and brings it into
dialogue with medieval notions of virtual pilgrimage.
Teresa’s mysticism is inherently tied to her reform of the Carmelite Order; her establishment
of the ‘discalced’ foundations was divinely ordained and inextricably entwined with her mystical
writing. 283 Throughout the last twenty years of her life, she founded seventeen convents across
Spain, many of which still function to this day. These foundations, along with sites she visited,
churches that celebrate her, and collections of her autographs and relics, offer the primary traces of
the visual culture in which she was immersed and which served as the source material for her textual
imagery. Furthermore, both De Certeau and Howells directly tie the foundations of her reform to the
paradise of her soul-castle.284 Both text and architecture function as “transitory avatars of the
“castle”,” tangible manifestations of her soul on Earth.285 Thus pilgrimage through such sites and
drawing connections to her text(s) offer a sense of walking through the mystical landscape of her
soul. Part 2 seeks to explore the visuality of her relationship to language by moving beyond the
“threshold” of her texts, both ‘on the ground’ and within the page, tracing connections between her
textual imagery and visual culture.286
The notion of making one’s way on foot is a recurrent theme within Teresa’s mystical
writing. Whilst her reform of the Carmelites promoted much stricter rules of enclosure, Teresa was
283 “Haviendo un día comulgado, mandóme mucho Su Majestad lo procurarse con todas mis fuerzas, haciéndome
grandes promesas de que no se dejaría de hacer el monasterio, y que se servirá mucho en él, y que se llamase San
Josef, y que a la una puerta nos guardaría él y nuestra Señora la otra, y que Cristo andaría con nosotras.” Teresa de
Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 176.
284 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 85; Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 96.
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described by one papal nuncio as a “restless gadabout,” constantly on the move from foundation to
foundation.287 Similarly, whilst not a pilgrim herself, she would likely have been familiar with St
Jerome’s account of Paula’s pilgrimage through reading his Epistles.288 Furthermore, a sense of
pilgrimage is tangible within her writing: the recollective movement of the soul through itself is a
journey along the camino de perfección, the path to God walked in and through the word-images of
Christ’s Passion. Pilgrimage is not only ingrained within Teresa’s language, but in the very practice
through which she treads the mystical path.
Martin Locker argues that the notion of medieval pilgrimage should not only refer only to the
physical journeys, but also to such practices of imagined or “static” interior travel in search of the
Divine.289 Locker highlights how Passion guides describe a process of accompanying Christ in
thought, “as though thou hadst been actually present at the time of the Passion.”290 Drawing from
Gillian Clark’s analysis of Augustine’s De Civitate Dei, Locker emphasises how the original
meaning of ‘pilgrim’ came from the Latin peregrinus, and spoke to a process of estranging one’s self
from worldly connections.291 Much of Locker’s argument resonates with Teresa’s mysticism: her
mystical texts often describe the soul’s journey through itself in traditionally pilgrimage-esque
language, and her path through the castle is performed by “placing one’s eyes upon the crucified,” by
turning inwards and wandering alongside her Spouse-to-be.292 Furthermore, Locker argues that it is
the memories of physical pilgrimage that hold more spiritual value than the original journey itself. 293
287 Teresa of Jesus, The Complete Works of Teresa of Jesus, trans. E. Allison Peers, 3 vols. (London: Sheed and
Ward, 1944-6), 3: 150; Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 3.
288 Whilst recuperating from an illness at the start of her monastic career, Teresa spends a few days with her uncle
– a similarly spiritually and monastically minded individual – to whom she reads from St Jerome, and who also
introduces her to Osuna’s Tercer Abecedario. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 40.
289 Martin Locker, “Movement through Stillness: Imagined Pilgrimage in Medieval Europe,” (paper presented at
Stasis in the Medieval World EMICS Conference, London, April 13-14, 2013), 1.
290 Henry Coleridge, The Hours and the Passion taken from the Life of Christ by Ludolph the Saxon (London: Burns &
Oates, 1887), 2; see also: Martin Locker, “Movement through Stillness,” 3.

291 Martin Locker, “Movement through Stillness,” 1
292 “Poned los ojos en el Crucificado.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 580.
293 Martin Locker, “Movement through Stillness,” 3.
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These memories provide “a meditative recollection and private internal journey which offers
limitless personal encounters” and “an ever-increasing collection of visual details” which can be
employed in future recollection.294
Methods of ‘static,’ or virtual pilgrimage emerge throughout the medieval period. Due to
strict rules of monastic enclosure, poverty or war, many would-be pilgrims were prevented from
making their journey on foot through and to the Holy landscape. 295 As such, from the thirteenth
century onwards methods of ‘virtual’ pilgrimage were developed that could be performed at home, in
the convent, or at more accessible sites. Such mental or virtual journeys held the same spiritual value
as their ‘physical’ counterparts.296 For example, in 1487 the enclosed Dominican sisters of St
Katherine (Augsburg) received a papal privilege to perform their own ‘virtual’ pilgrimage to Rome:
in place of that journey the sisters would recite three Paternosters and three Avemarias at specified
sites within the convent.297 To enrich this experience in 1499 a series of six paintings of Roman
pilgrimage churches were commissioned. As Marie-Luise Ehrenschwendtner argues, these paintings,
known as the Augsburger Basilikabilder, functioned as far more than “mere decoration … they were
substitutes for the Roman pilgrim churches … guides to contemplation of the passion of Christ and
stimulants to an imitatio Christi.”298 They were not, however, literal illustrations, but “representations
of what the pilgrim churches stood for,” visual manifestations of the essential nature of the
destinations.299 The artists constructed their images through a collage of church architecture, scenes

295 Melvyn Bragg, “Medieval Pilgrimage,” In Our Time (podcast), February 18, 2021,
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000s9qp.
296 Melvyn Bragg, “Medieval Pilgrimage”.
297 Marie-Luise Ehrenschwendtner, “Virtual Pilgrimages? Enclosure and the Practice of Piety at St Katherine’s
Convent, Augsburg,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History 60, no. 1 (2009), 46,

https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022046908006027.
298 Marie-Luise Ehrenschwendtner, “Virtual Pilgrimages?,” 71.
299 Marie-Luise Ehrenschwendtner, “Virtual Pilgrimages?,” 71.
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of the Passion, and allusions to the lives of the saints.300 To an extent the Basilikabilder functions in
parallel to demolished or ruined holy sites which Mary Carruthers argues act as markers within the
faithful’s “mental maps” and (virtual) “locations for recollecting memory images,” made upon prior
reading of Scripture.301 What is important is not that the si(gh)tes were “authentic” or “real,” but
rather that they provided the stimuli for “memory-work,” the meditative thought performed through
the psychological and topographical clues they provide.302 It is possible here to draw an intriguing
comparison with the method of ‘evenly-suspended attention;’ in much the same way as words
designate links to emotional and psychological material, these pilgrimage mediations demarcate the
pray-ers psychological route, containing links to scriptural imagery and the appropriate emotions to
be felt at that site.
300 Pia F. Cuneo argues that such representations had a specific emphasis on the narratives of female saints, whose
lives served as a model or standard to which St Katherine’s sisters could compare their own behaviour. Pia F.
Cuneo, “The Basilica Cycle of Saint Katherine’s Convent: Art and Female Community in Early-Renaissance
Augsburg,” Woman’s Art Journal 19, no. 1 (1998), 23, https://doi.org/10.2307/1358650,
301 Mary Carruthers, The Craft of Thought: Meditation, Rhetoric, and the Making of Images, 400-1200 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1998), 42.

302 Mary Carruthers, The Craft of Thought, 42.
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Figure 4: Hans Burgkmair the Elder, Santa Croce, Mitteltafel: Christus am Kreuz, 1504, oil on board, Bavarian State Painting
Collection, Munich. One of the Augsburg Basilikabilder.
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Given the rise of Covid-19, undertaking a ‘physical’ pilgrimage to explore Teresa’s source
material became increasingly complex. Thus, I drew upon the notion of virtual pilgrimage as an
appropriable alternative to on-the-ground analysis. Carruthers identifies the act of pilgrimage as a
way of “making one’s way” through Scripture, transforming it into a map.303 Pilgrimage becomes a
mode of interior mapping: on the ground or in the mind the pilgrim moves from station to station
recollecting the seen imagery with the textual imagery of the Passion. As such, this research takes
virtual pilgrimage as its analytical structure for its dual exploration of her soul-castle in text and
image. Following Frohlich’s assertion that Teresa’s texts are more akin to a tour than a map, this
suggestive mapping focuses upon my own movement through Teresa’s word-images. 304 The intent is
not to ‘see what she saw’ or to focus on the images themselves, but to explore the inter-relations
between such word-images and to develop a sense of the movement from image to image as
unfurling patterns of recollection. This method seeks to foreground the visuality of the recollective
process, engaging with Teresa’s practice in a way which traces how such patterns of thought
interweave to create a sense of the form and movement of her mystical landscape.
Through the interface of Google Maps, this method employs tools from my artistic practice
(photography, drawing, collage, and writing) to collect the visual imagery from the sites of Teresa’s
foundations. The method then uses these tools to analyse, connect, and ‘re-collect' this virtual
journey and its findings to the results of part 1. The sites explored were chosen primarily for their
significance to Teresa’s life and writing, but also for their close co-location in case an ‘on-foot’ trip
became possible. The sites ‘mapped’ are: Avila, Medina del Campo, Valladolid, Toledo, Salamanca,
Alba de Tormes, and Segovia.

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The pilgrim’s process functions as follows:
1. Pilgrimage by collage [data collection]:
Using Google Maps Street View I wander around a Teresian city, screenshotting any sites or scenes
that relate to the saint (e.g., her convents, churches she visited or with shrines in her name). These
images range from wide-angle shots to close-ups of specific patterns, details, or motifs. The photos
are then printed out, and ‘read’ through, tracing any forms that strike me or that have immediate
correlation to Teresa’s textual imagery.
These selected shapes are then cut out and collaged back together (re-collection).
Experimenting with different arrangements of the pieces, I try to ‘make sense’ of the pieces like a
puzzle, seeing which pieces connect to one another and what new forms they make. Drawing upon
surrealist uses of collage as a means of engaging with the unconscious, this process does not look to
make overly thought-out or ‘conscious’ decisions regarding which pieces go together. 305 Rather,
much like the principles of ‘even suspended attention’, it seeks to let cut pieces come together and
connections arise between them that are not consciously reasoned.
These new forms are then traced with black lines to give some sense of ‘scaffolding’ to the
newly found structures, underlining their inter-connections. Any blank spaces are filled with painted
tones matched to the cut-out images, one-dark tone and one lighter mid-tone. This further connects
the forms, foregrounding some shapes and pulling others to the back; this enacts a ‘bridging’
between structures whilst extruding the collage into a sense of three dimensionality, inferring that
‘something’ lies beyond the page. The process is performed individually in relation to each of the
Teresian cities, producing seven separate collages.
305Elza Adamowicz highlights this theme with particular reference to Andre Breton and his notion of collage as an
internal method of exploration. See: Elza Adamowicz, “Collage,” in Surrealism, ed. Natalya Lusty (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2021), 184, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/9781108862639.
81
Analogously this stage parallels the first two stages of part 1 (lectio and meditatio). To an
extent the making of these collages constitutes a further instance of embodied reading: the original
photographs are ‘read’ (in Guigo’s words, ‘consumed’) in search of their constituent forms and
details, they are then broken up (chewed) and the new pieces reconnected to one another and initial
connections to Teresa’s texts are extracted. 306
2. Analysis of the journey through drawing and writing [data analysis]:
Drawing Locker’s assertion that the memory of the pilgrimage is more fruitful than the journey itself,
this first part of the process employs reflective writing to analyse the collages. 307 Similar to the
oratio stage of part 1, this process takes the form of a prayer-full letter to Teresa in which I discuss
my reflections on the making of each collage (the process of the journey) and the traces of her textual
imagery that I see within the image. The following points are addressed:
• What textual imagery does the collage reflect?
• What do I remember about this journey?
• How does the collage reflect the significance of that site to her mysticism?
• What connections can be made between this collage and the others?
The second part of this stage draws together Carruthers's definition of mnemonic ductus, with
surrealist and psychoanalytic automatic drawing. For Carruthers, ductus constitutes the flow of a
rhetorical composition, the movement of the thinking mind over a text as a means of
memorisation.308 In surrealist methods of automatic drawing, the hand is allowed to flow blindly over
the surface supposedly allowing the interference of the subconscious and revealing something of the
306 Guigo II, The Ladder of Monks and Twelve Meditations: A Letter on the Contemplative Life, 82-3.
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artist’s psyche.309 Borrowing this action of automatic drawing, I follow the ductus (flow) of the
collage with my pen: looking only at the collage, I trace the reconstructed forms, patterns and
structures that come to the surface, recollecting my journey. This process underlines potentially
significant or prominent aspects of the collages, and captures some ‘essential essence’ of the
composition.
These two analytic actions are performed daily, revisiting (recollecting) the journey, one day
after another. This stage analogously corresponds to those of meditatio and oratio as it moves to
further develop connections between the constituent parts of the collage and begins to extend these
connections towards Teresa’s texts.
3. Moving towards mapping in three dimensions.
The final stage begins with deconstructing the collages and then re-collecting them in light of the
findings from stage 2. The collages are photographed and printed, these prints are then deconstructed
in a similar way to original images in stage 1: they are ‘read’ through, dissected, and deconstructed
into their constituent parts, patterns, and structures. The resulting 2-dimensional cut-outs are re-
collaged together into a series of sculptures. Drawing from the reflective analysis in stage 2 these ‘3D
Collages’ seek to counter the flatness of the original collages, opening up the space beyond or behind
the surface of the image; the original collages (a/i)lluded to such a third dimension ‘behind the page,’
echoing a sense of mystical meaning, but were constrained in two dimensions.
The development of the original collages was initially intended to explore the connections
within Teresa’s imagery. However, the analysis of stage 2 revealed a greater preoccupation with the
movement of recollection, the unfolding of this space beyond the page or collage. This was further
supported by the movement from two to three dimensions which signified a change of focus from the
309 “Automatism,” Tate, accessed November 24 2022, https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/a/automatism.
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interconnections between her textual and lived imagery, towards exploring the functional structure of
her recollective practice. In other words, these imitative methods spoke far more to her recollective
practice than to the significance of the images themselves. Like the Augsburg Basilikabilder, the
collages are not literal representations of Teresian sites, but are practical recollections of my own
journey(s) through Teresian landscapes. Furthermore, given the autoethnographic nature of the
collages, this process blurs the lines between my journey through Teresa’s castle and her own
journey through text. Thus, these collages (in both two and three dimensions) speak to the form of
my own recollective movement through her castle in imitative parallel to the interior actions of her
mystical practice.
This movement was developed in the final part of stage 3 through the construction of a large-
scale wooden sculptural installation which further explored this unfolding functional structure of
recollection. This sculpture began life as a nineteenth-century pulpit, which was salvaged and
deconstructed for its material and structural forms. With the addition of some similarly salvaged
lengths, the constituent parts of this pulpit were ‘collaged’ together in a very similar fashion to the
original 2-dimensional collages through a process of experimentation to see which pieces connected
to one another and what forms could be created. In this latter instance, however, this re-construction
process focussed more upon patterns of structural connections, rather than those between pieces of
imagery. This suggested a sense of the functional structure of Teresa’s mystical landscape which
unfurls behind the words on the page. The beams, bars, planks, and surfaces did not seek to construct
any concrete outline of this mystical linguistical form, but to suggest a sense of the movement and
structure that underpin the form of her mystical landscape that lies beyond the “threshold” of the
text.310
310 Michel de Certeau, The Mystics Fable, 126.
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Part 3: Mapping the habit311
The final part of this research took the form of an exhibition, a method encompassing both curation,
installation, and the organisation of two participatory events. This exhibition was a collation of the
artworks produced through the first two methods of engagement with Teresa’s texts. Paintings,
drawings, collages, sculptures, performance, and text all came to be housed within the twelfth-
century walls of St James Priory.
Rather than simply a ‘display’ of the research, the exhibition worked reflexively with the
devotional architecture of the church and performed a further site-specific iteration of the recollective
and mapping processes. The curation aimed to draw the viewer into the recollective process, offering
them a tour of my journey through Teresa’s word-images. This approach drew from both Frohlich’s
‘tour-like’ nature of Teresa’s texts and the notion of installation (art) as “a situation” into which the
viewer enters, not as “a pair of disembodied eyes” but rather an embodied, thinking, and feeling
being who engages with the work in mind and body.312 Surrealist approaches to exhibition displayed
a similar emphasis upon the active and embodied participation of the viewer, encouraged through
installations that sought to prevent “passive contemplation of autonomous” art-objects.313
Consequently, this exhibition sought not only to offer the viewer a glimpse into the functions and
methods of this approach, but also to engage them in this latest instance of recollection.
This was achieved through the creation of recollective space which played upon the viewer’s
natural desire to move from one work to another in a cyclical fashion and the open structure of the
church itself. The works produced from the first method (drawings) were arranged within the pews,
offering a space for more static contemplation. The works from the virtual pilgrimage lined the
311 For documentation of the exhibition, see the appendix pages 396-402.
312 Mary Frohlich, “The Space of Christic Performance,” 164; Claire Bishop, Installation Art: A Critical History (New
York: Routledge, 2005), 11.
313 Adam Jolles, “Surrealist Display Practices,” in Surrealism, ed. Natalya Lusty (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2021) 242, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/9781108862639.
85
aisles, forming a clockwise cycle around the centre. Whilst these two parts offered a subtle separation
of the two bodies of work, the openness of the space and the use of double-sided mountings allowed
the viewer to see almost every work from any position. Combined with the sense of cohesion
between the artworks and the devotional space of the church itself, this evoked a sense of immersion
in the recollective process. This was supported by an exhibition guide detailing my imitative
practice-based approach.
Furthermore, this curational style drew the works into dialogue with one another and
immersed both myself and the viewer in the sea of connections between them. Whilst during the
performance of these two methods I was (sub)conscious of the interconnections between the works,
this exhibition was the first instance in which all the outcomes were collated together in (a singular)
space. In the design of the exhibition method, I had intended to create a map of the connections
between the different artworks. In practice, the outcomes were less concrete, and instead this
‘dialogic’ aspect of the exhibition revealed far more about the importance of movement and
corporeality which had been implicit in the previous two stages. For example, the large wooden
sculpture (as detailed in method 2) was installed as the ‘climax’ of the virtual pilgrimage cycle; this
required particular attention to how the viewer could navigate the form in the space: walking around,
under, or even through, the viewer not only explores a sense of that unfolding recollective motion for
themselves, but also reveals the inherent involvement of the body in that interior process. As such
they almost enter into the chain of imitation that runs between Teresa and myself, exploring in
parallel their own instance of (our) recollection.
Alongside this corporeal revelation, the exhibition established and ‘made public’ the
development of this novel methodology. The show sought to demonstrate the methods involved and
to prove the efficacy of practice-based approaches within the Arts and Humanities. Furthermore, the
exhibition aimed to spark an on-going conversation about the use of creative and embodied practices
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as approaches to research and to develop a methodological dialogue between the Creative Arts and
the Arts and Humanities. This was ‘sparked’ in two parts: firstly, by a private view which welcomed
both university members and the general public to explore and discuss the exhibition; secondly,
through a round table event which brought together artists, researchers, and writers from the
University of Bristol and beyond all of whom engage with making, embodiment, and performance in
their own research practices.
A fundamental part of the ‘dialogic’ and ‘public’ aims of the exhibition lay in the publication
of a text, one that falls somewhere between an exhibition catalogue and an artist’s book. As a
collection of the words and images that constructed the exhibition, this text offered an abstract
depiction of this methodology and dialogically traces my relationship with Teresa, performing a
further iteration of our journey in word and image. Beginning as an exhibition catalogue, this book
traces the approach and methods of this research and gradually becomes increasingly addressed to
Teresa herself in a dialogic climax of imitation. This book was exhibited along with a collection of
notebooks and sketchbooks from the processes of parts 1 and 2.
87
Figure 5: Getting into Her Habit Exhibition Map
88
The Map and the Habit
The actions of this methodological approach, despite their fundamental performativity, occur ‘off-
stage.’ The chapters which follow do not directly trace the results from one method or another.
Rather the contours of this map are drawn holistically from the results of each stage; no one chapter
is the result of one singular action. Instead, this methodology offers the warp and weft from which
the map is woven, the means of walking/reading (into) Teresa’s mystical landscape; this thesis-map
is the record of that which I ‘saw’ along this movement beyond her words on the page.
There is only one visible act of imitation within the pages of my map. This map is
(sub)consciously constructed in a language that seeks to evoke a flexibility of meaning, a slippage in
signification, which seeks to simultaneously unite the psychoanalytical, feminist, poststructuralist
tones of my practice with Teresa’s written voice. Perhaps as a result of my imitative intimacy with
her texts, the construction of this language is not entirely artificial or conscious. However, this
linguistic imitation seeks to weave a sense of cohesion between the subject of study, the
methodological approach, and the outcome of the research itself. Within this linguistic imitation, I
play with language in order to evoke a multiplicity of meaning; as such, a glossary is provided at the
end of the map.314
Summary
This approach seeks a greater proximity to the function of text for Teresa as both reader and writer.
Such intimacy enables an embodied interpretation of her writing that looks to the function of
language within her experience. The role of word-images, visualisation, and embodiment within her
practice infer that this aspect of her mysticism can only be understood by practical experience of the
314 See page 325.
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text. As such, this research approaches Teresa, her texts, and her practice, through imitation and
artistic practice.
This imitative approach seeks to be “respectful” of our distance from one another whilst also
allowing for an appreciation of the creative construction and three-dimensionality of her texts as
quasi-sculptural objects.315 Such a constructional and visual reading intends to counter the
‘flattening’ of text often performed by traditional desk-based approaches, and the proximity of this
map affords an expanded view of the unfolding structures of her recollection in word and image. As
we shall see, such attention to word and image, to the practicality and performativity of her writing,
unveils certain subtle correctives to current understandings of her soul and the vital significance of
her imagery.
This, however, is not a true imitation; there are multiple gaps where Teresa and I slip past
one another. Yet the following map does not seek to recreate what she saw, nor does it chase
mystical union itself. Instead, this approach offers a balance between considerations of authorial
intent and read significance. Here imitation and practice perform a suggestive mapping of Teresa’s
patterns of word and image without any attempt to systematise her thought. From this proximity to
text (and author), the research offers a new understanding of Teresa’s mystical relationship with
language.
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Chapter 2: Teresa the reader and the umbilical role of language
Our map unfolds from the threshold of Teresa’s castle. Las Moradas del Castillo Interior is an
architecture for spiritual transformation in which Teresa unfurls her mystical path through that
comparación of the soul as a diamond castle. Written from the climax of her mystical career, it is
arguably the most coherent articulation of her mysticism. Both a guide to recogimiento and an
account of her experience, Teresa’s Moradas conceal a sense of her relationship with language
through an entanglement of text, image and (w/W)ord.
There is a duality to this word-image: it is both the vehicle for navigating her estrangement
from the Divine, and the spiritual pilgrim who traverses the void. Furthermore, the soul-castle is
simultaneously a text and a textual image, a linguistic incarnation of the soul which is itself an image
of the Divine. Teresa navigates her castle in recogimiento, through that act of retreat in which the
soul turns within itself in search of spiritual perfection. This retreat is in-furling: as she moves
through the castle the moradas unfurl before her, before the reader. Whilst Osuna may be her guide
(“maestro”) along the recollective path, the foundation of Teresa’s castle-image lies in her affection
for St Augustine and his Confessions.316 As Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo argues, Teresa assumes
much of his language as a means of expressing her own experience.317 This ‘assumption’ arguably
exceeds linguistic imitation as Teresa confesses to an empathetic relationship to his text that aids in
her mystical conversion: in reading of his conversion, she breaks into tears, as if she were there
hearing the Divine call herself.318
316 Teresa even claims to take Osuna as her spiritual “maestro” when she can find no confessor. See: Teresa de
Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 42-3.
317 Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico. La condición fronteriza de la
Hermosura en la estética de Teresa de Avila,” Teoliteraria 3, no. 5 (2013), 13, https://doi.org/10.19143/2236-

9937.2016v3n5p11-23.
91
This empathetic engagement with Augustine’s Confession guides Teresa’s search for the
Divine towards the “Maestro Interior” who resides within her soul, who calls to her from within.319
Her soul is highly Augustinian, not only “the point of closest contact” with the Divine but made in
His triune image;320 the soul’s three faculties (will, memory, understanding) echo the three facets of
the Trinity. Furthermore, as Howells highlights, Teresa offers a similarly Augustinian “low
anthropology” of the soul in which the soul and its indwelling Divinity are initially obscured from
view.321
Considerar aquí que la fuente y aquel sol resplandeciente que está en el centro del alma, no
pierde su resplandor y hermosura, que siempre está dentro de ella y cosa no puede quitar su
hermosura. Mas si sobre un cristal que está a el sol se pusiese un paño muy negro, claro que
está que, aunque el sol dé en él, no hará su claridad operación en el cristal.322
The human soul may be an image of the Divine, but when in mortal sin its diamond nature is covered
with a thick black cloth, which obscures the brilliance of the Sun at its centre. As such, recollection
must first be a discovery of the Divine potential within the soul/self, before one can begin the in-
furling (re)turn towards the Divine.
319 Saint Augustine, Confessions, trans. Vernon J. Bourke (Washington: The Catholic University of America Press,
1953), 297, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bristol/detail.action?docID=3134878#; Cecilia Inés Avenatti de
Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico,” 13.
320 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 95-6; Peter Tyler, “Teresa of Avila ’s Picture of the
Soul: Platonic or Augustinian?,” in Teresa of Avila : Her Writings and Life, eds. Terence O’Reilly, Colin Thompson,
Lesley Twomey (Cambridge: Legenda, 2018), 98, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.2307/j.ctv16km1sb.
321 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila,
322 “Consider here that the source and resplendent sun is in the centre of the soul, it does not lose its brilliance or
beauty, it is always within her and nothing can hinder its beauty. Rather, if a crystal that sits in the sun were to be
covered with a thick black cloth, it is obvious that it is still there, but even if the sun hits it, its brilliance may not
shine through the crystal.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 476. Teresa draws on a very similar image within her
Vida in which she describes a soul in mortal sin as like a mirror being covered with a great dark cloud so that it
cannot see nor represent the Divine who is always already giving the soul its Image. Whilst this stagnation is
reversible, for heretics it is like the mirror is broken. See Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 224.
92
Teresa instructs her reader to lay the foundation of the castle’s (re)construction in humility;
one enters through the doors of prayer and meditation to walk through the first moradas
contemplating one’s baseness in comparison to the transcendent Divine. Through active recollective
practice (the entangled prayer, reading and meditation) she moves through the first three realms of
moradas, turning away from the exterior world battling the distractions which seek to lure her from
the interior path. From within the fourth and fifth moradas the Divine begins to reveal His presence
within, offering hints, glimpses, and tastes of His self to her. Such spiritual gustos (delights) intensify
as she is drawn into the sixth moradas in which her soul begins to experience rapturous ecstatic
flights and becomes betrothed to her Beloved who lies within the following realm. When she is
finally swept into the seventh moradas, into the bridal chamber of the Spouse, she is utterly
spiritually undone in His embrace. This progressive path towards the Divine is not only a desirous
quest for union with the Beloved, but in the orig(e)nal sense, a mystical search for self-knowledge
and Divine Truth. In the ‘undoing’ embrace of the Beloved, Teresa comes to know her self in relation
to that Divine Other within whom she is now undone; in this “mirror of union” she comes to a true
understanding of her self in relation to the Trinity in whose image she was (re)made.323
To manifest her mystical discovery in text, Teresa floods her castle with imagery. Within its
walls, she unfurls trees, jewels, beasts, braziers, and brides, a continuous stream of textual images
from which she weaves an architectural landscape of the soul. Yet, as Barbara Mujica highlights, this
interior landscape is neither coherently structured nor visually conceivable. Mujica sees Teresa’s
streams of imagery as an apophatic gesture, image upon image serving to annihilate any kataphatic
view of what Teresa experienced.324 She may construct her soul-castle in images, but these images do
not weave any illustrative vision. Similarly Palumbo argues that Teresa’s writings present a tension
323 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 90.
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between the path of detachment and silence (“desapego y silencio”) from all conception of what the
Divine is, and the visual construction of the soul-castle within which resides this ‘theofanic
beauty.’325 This “ritmo paradojico” between positive and negative paths, allows Teresa to assume a
liminal position between apophatic ascension and visionary revelation in which the former is
essential in achieving the latter.326
This play upon imaginative and architectural language as a means of navigating the nature of
soul is not mystically unusual. In the context of sixteenth-century Castille, Rafael Pérez García
argues that such palatial imagery performs a very particular function. Through a comparison of four
spiritual castles, García outlines how the soul-castle image offers a means of conceiving of the soul
as a conjunction between the visible-material and invisible-immaterial realms.327 For example,
Osuna’s Tercer Abecedario draws upon the image of soul as a “fortified castle” (“castillo cercado”)
within which one must retreat and guard against exterior distractions.328 Similarly, Bernardino de
Laredo envisions the soul as the city of God, a landscape of bejewelled towers and candles encircled
by crystalline walls and at the centre of which lies the castle of God.329 Thus, Teresa’s own soul-
castle is preceded by a sense of articulating soul’s connection to the Divine.330
As García demonstrates, Teresa’s soul-castle reflects many of the qualities of her mystical
compatriots, in particular in its reference to notions of retreat and the embodiment of Paradise.331 Yet
Teresa distinguishes herself from such (Franciscan) forefathers as Laredo and Osuna in two
325 Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico,” 13-4.
326 Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico,” 14. 19.
327 Rafael M. Pérez García, “El Castillo en la Frontera Cultural del Renacimiento,” in Funciones de la red castral
fronteriza : homenaje a Don Juan Torres Fontes, eds. Francisco Toro Ceballos and José Rodríguez Molina (Jaen:
Diputación Provincial de Jaén, 2004), 602, https://medievalistas.es/el-castillo-en-la-frontera-cultural-del-
renacimiento/.
328 Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, 120; Francisco de Osuna, Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 198.
329 Bernardino de Laredo, Subida del Monte Sion (Alcalá: Juan Gracian, 1617), 247.
330 Rafael M. Pérez García, “El Castillo en la Frontera Cultural del Renacimiento,” 602.
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important ways: the consistency of the castle image as the form of the text, and a focus upon the
castle’s interiority opposed to its external appearance. 332 Within her Moradas the soul-castle is not
simply an image, but the text as a whole, a text-image constructed from (other) textual images in
order to embody the nature and transformation of another image, the soul itself. This continuity of
image which underpins the soul-castle-text calls to a reading of her Moradas with a focus on the
notion of image itself. Whilst much Teresian scholarship is concerned with the nature of her imagery,
this chapter seeks to move beyond the significance of her individual word-images and towards an
exploration of her transformation through image and its connection to language and text.333
Umbilical
Teresa’s castle is grounded in language, both the image itself and the practice she outlines within it
find their foundation in text, in the scriptural “buenos libros” which function as a “threshold” from
which to begin the journey toward her Beloved.334 In her guide to Teresa’s scriptural connection,
Estévez Lopéz describes an almost sacramental relationship to text. The scriptural surface offers
Teresa a sense of the “presencia viva” of her Beloved to which she turns in order to satiate her thirst
for Him.335 Like the Eucharistic wafer, it is a sense of touch or lived presence which is implied; in
the words of De Certeau, scriptural text offers Teresa a “material signifier,” a tangible trace of her
Beloved’s presence with which she can (become) engage(d) and which offers her the “consonants”
for the expression of her desire.336
333 For example see: Molly E. Borowitz, “Prolific Metaphors and Smuggled Meanings in Teresa of Avila’s ‘Las
Moradas del Castillo Interior,” Hispanic Review 87, no. 1 (2019), https://doi.org/10.1353/hir.2019.0002; Barbara
Mujica, “Beyond Image.”; Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 99; John Allan Barnes Paddock, “Teresa of
Avila 's elaboration of imagery in her literary expression of mystical experience” (PhD diss., University of Glasgow,
2004), http://theses.gla.ac.uk/id/eprint/71261.
334 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 40; Michel De Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126.
335 Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 258.
336 Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 258; Michel De Certeau, The Mystic Fable
126-7.
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Yet, whilst she may turn to text for a trace of Him, this text delineates their separation, there
would be no need for this textual relic of His being if she were always already united in Him. As De
Certeau argues, such textual interface is only a “placeholder” that indexes rather than offers her
Beloved.337 Like the taste of His (sacramental) flesh, it delivers a fleeting hint of His existence, but it
does not fulfil the desire she burns for Him. Whilst Teresa’s texts may not be as eucharistically
explicit as those of her northern mystical predecessors like Hadewijch (d. 1260) or Ida of Louvain (d.
1300), there is a tangible sense of eucharistic devotion that lies beneath her words on the page.338 As
we shall later see, she not only equates text with His flesh, but the like her mystical ancestors,
consumption of the Host often sparks the experience of mystical ecstasy.339 Furthermore, her
approach to the Divine is characterised by a similar sense of imitatio and ecstasy which Bynum
argues “epitomized” such female eucharistic devotion.340 Like the Host, text offers Teresa a tangible
taste of the Other, but one that only exacerbates her estrangement from Him.
Both De Certeau and Estévez Lopéz agree that this empty scriptural space forms the site of
her Divine encounter, the space within which she meets with “Aquel a quien ama y por quien se
siente inmensamente amada.”341 Through her “‘passionate’ use of the book,” this threshold unfolds
into a paradise-like space (paradisus claustralis) of transformation and interpretation within which
she penetrates the depths of Divine meaning through dialogical union with her Beloved.342 Thus
337 Michel De Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126.

338 See Caroline Walker-Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 119-150.
339 “En todos éstos, si no era acabando de comulgar, jamás osava comenzar a tener oración sin un libro; que tanto
temía mi alma estar sin él en oración.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 44; “Creo por la humildad que vuestra
merced ha tenido en quererse ayudar de una simpleza tan grande como la mía, me dio el Señor hoy, acabando
de comulgar, esta oración, sin poder ir adelante, y me puso estas comparaciones y enseñó la manera de decirlo y lo
que ha de hacer aquí el alma.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 93.
340 Caroline Walker-Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 125. Teresa also has similar food-based asceticism,
although this is more subtly conveyed within her texts. In particular her Vida speaks of a need to vomit every
morning for twenty years. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 56.
341 “He whom she loves and by whom she feels immeasurably loved.” Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos
cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 256; Michel De Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 128.
342 Michel De Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 128; Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,”
256.
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Teresa enters her self as soul-castle, moving over the textual threshold and onto the recollective path
towards the Beloved. Yet as Estévez Lopéz highlights, it is not the text, but the word(s) that engender
this contemplative intur(n)ing;343 text as “threshold” may delineate the void within which her
mystical encounter occurs, but it is through language that Teresa enters and navigates the castle. 344
In his reading of Augustine’s Confessions, John Panteleimon Manoussakis uncovers a similar
tension of language and separation. Drawing from Freud, he proposes that for Augustine “language
comes as a remedy to a fundamental experience of a primordial separation … the means to cope with
and remedy a painful absence,” the realisation that the mother is distinct, other, separate from
oneself.345 Palumbo argues that, like Augustine, Teresa’s search for the Divine within her soul is
navigated through language, the words on the page guiding and directing her towards the depths of
her interior.346 Just as a child turns to speech at the realisation that the mother is separate from itself,
so language becomes a means of breaching Teresa’s separation from the (m)Other. Thus, whilst the
textual “threshold” may be a liminal space that hints at living form of the Divine within the void,
language offers her the path through the castle.347
There is a reciprocity to Teresa’s movement in language: His words on the (scriptural) page
provide for her the means to construct and move through the castle; from within the castle, He calls
to her (locutions); in writing her castle she calls back to Him and is then transformed into a vehicle
for His word.
343 Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 258-60.
345 John Panteleimon Manoussakis, “On the Flesh of the Word: Incarnational Hermeneutics,” in Carnal
Hermeneutics, eds. Richard Kearney and Brian Treanor (New York: Fordham University Press, 2015), 313,
346 Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico,” 16.
347 Michel De Certeau, The Mystic Fable, 126-7.
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Lo que he dicho hasta aquí en esta oración, entiendo claro que, si va bien, que no soy yo la
que lo he dicho.348
At times within the castle, it appears as though this linguistic cord consists of separate strands:
scriptural (His word in text), visionary (her locutions of His word), and Teresian (her written word).
However, Teresa weaves these linguistic strands so tightly in the cocoon of her castle that it is often
unclear which strand of language she is plucking at. Her text is simultaneously an instruction to her
hermanas and a prayer to her Beloved; she calls to Him and in the same breath claims it is He who
speaks through her pen. Paraphrasing Jantzen, Teresa’s ascends to God through the words on the
page, which “reveal and conceal” the Word incarnate who in turn leads her to the Divine Himself.349
These linguistic strands are concurrent, consubstantial, and transformative, always already Divine
and Teresian in origin and affect.
For Kristeva, Teresa’s vision of language is not merely reciprocal but functions to put her
into direct contact with the Divine: “ce avec j’entre en contact entre en contact avec moi,” the
reciprocity of language functions like a touch, much like the taste of His flesh.350 Through her close
appropriation of Teresa’s aquatic language, Kristeva reveals that for our mystic, water embodies this
quasi-corporeal contact: “elle [l’eau] maintient la tension entre nous et, tout en me remplissent du
divin, m’épargne la folie de me confondre avec lui.”351 Whilst Kristeva’s focus lies more on the
aquatic flow that courses from Teresa’s pen in writing, such written imagery speaks to the function of
language for Teresa as a reader. As we have just seen, not only are the various linguistic strands of
348 “all that I have said so far in this prayer, if it is correct understand that it is not I who have said it.” Teresa de
Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 538.
349 “As God is made available to humankind through the Word incarnate and through the words of scripture, so
humans ascend to God through the words which reveal and conceal the divine mystery.” Grace M. Jantzen, Power,
Gender and Christian Mysticism, 284.
350 “That with which I enter into contact enters into contact with me.” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse
d’Avila,” 48-9. Here Kristeva quotes from Jean-Louis Chrétien, L’Appel et la réponse (Paris : Minuit, 1992), 103.
351 “Water maintains the tension between us and, whilst filling me with the Divine, spares me the folly of confusing
myself with him.” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila ,” 47.
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the castle almost indistinguishably interwoven, but the castle structure itself delineates a practice of
recollective reading that lies behind her words on the page.
As such Kristeva’s vision of Teresa’s fluid fiction speaks to language’s reciprocal and quasi-
tactile function. She argues that these aquatic images function as more than metaphor or
comparison.352 Water provides a metamorphosis, a transformational linguistic element which is the
love of the Divine, umbilically tying Teresa to Him and watering the parched earth of her soul. For
Kristeva this aquatic inter-connection speaks to a regression in recollection that climaxes an
embryonic state of fusion with the Creator. 353 In this aquatic vision, language emerges as reciprocal,
transformational and transportational, that which allows for the expression of her desire for the
Divine and the navigation of the path towards Him.
Thus, whilst scriptural text lays the ground for Teresa’s approach, it is through language that
she constructs her castle and turns to walk towards the Divine within. Originating from text, a
tangled linguistic cord runs between them, simultaneously emphasizing their estrangement and
offering a means of reaching each other. Teresa’s relationship to language within the castle appears
quasi-sensorial, a vehicle for a sentient ascension. In “the coiling of this lover’s discourse” reading
cannot truly be separated from writing and vice versa: 354 her written word leaves a pattern of
footsteps through the castle which in turn delineates her own return to the Word through language.
A Language of Seeing
This linguistic cord courses between Teresa and her Beloved, connecting them through word and
text. Tyler founds his thesis on Teresa’s mystical strategies on the premise that her language
functions through ‘showing’ rather than ‘saying.’355 As mystical texts, her own writings are
352 Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 48; Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 27, 68.
353 Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 45, 47.
354 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 18.
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themselves transformational, (a)ffecting a “change of aspect” in her reader just as she was
transformed through textual recollection.356
Son tan escuras de entender estas cosas interiores, que à quien tan poco sabe como yo,
forzado havra de decir muchas cosas superfluas y aun desatinadas, para decir alguna que
acierte.357
Teresa’s is a language of seeing, the transformative power of her textual castle arises primarily
through its ability to generate image. Whilst she may bemoan the lack she feels in language to
encapsulate her experience, she continuously encircles her experience through the word-images of
her castle. Even her mode of address (“Mirad,” “Poned los ojos,” “vereis, hermanas”) depends upon
the image-generative power of the words and speaks to a language founded upon sight and gaze.358
For Palumbo this language of seeing is inherently tied to Teresa’s practice of recollection, the
foundational act of this quest for the Divine is the turn of gaze towards the interior: “mirar adentro
de si es mirar al Maestro.”359 Seeing, language, recollection are all entangled within her soul-castle;
to discover the castle through the doors of prayer and meditation, is to turn the gaze and visually
search for the Divine within.
Like the image of the castle itself, a visual approach to language is not specifically Teresian,
nor is it unusual within her medieval heritage; in fact Barbara Newman diagnoses the period with a
certain fascination with sight and vision.360 This visual preoccupation manifests in visionary

357 “They are so concealed from understanding these interior things, that for one who knows as little as I, one
must say many superfluous and even nonsensical things, in order to say one thing that finds it mark.” Teresa de
358 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 489, 580, 487.
359 Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico,” 17. Palumbo paraphrases
Teresa’s Camino and the command to “recoger siquiera la vista para mirar dentro de sí este Señor.” Teresa de
Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 343.
360 Barbara Newman, “What Did It Mean to Say ‘I saw’? The Clash between Theory and Practice in Medieval
Visionary Culture,” Speculum 80, no. 1 (2005), 1, https://www.jstor.org/stable/20463162.
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literature in which image and vision were used both as a means of communication and as a source of
authority.361 For female mystics in particular, for whom authority in text was a contentious issue, the
appropriation of scriptural imagery and biblical traditions of vision served as a means of confirming
their experience.362 Whilst Teresa follows many of her mystical mothers in this regard, Weber
highlights that her “proliferation” of textual imagery operates rather differently. 363 The image of the
castle not only contains traditionally authoritative scriptural images, but conceals the Bride of the
Canticles, carefully conveying the sentiment of this dangerously erotic figure to her daughters whilst
avoiding Inquisitional suspicion.364
Though Teresa may at times employ visual imagery in a subversive manner, there are distinct
similarities between the visuality of her approach to language and the roots of visual and visionary
authority amongst her northern predecessors. As Jeffrey Hamburger highlights, the connection
between image(ry) and authority lies both in incarnation and the fundamental function of vision as a
means of interaction with the Divine.365 As we shall see, the notion of incarnation is vital in Teresa’s
manifestation of her mystical transformation in images and words. Furthermore, the Victorine
conception of speculatio emblematises the connection between visionary language and
meditative/contemplative practice, attributing “the capacity to point the intellect toward God to the
faculty of sight” in order to guide the reader/pray-er from the contemplation of “visible things to
invisible things.”366 Whilst she may not use such terminology, Teresa’s crystalline castle offers a
361 Jeffrey Hamburger, “Mysticism and Visuality,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, eds. Amy
Hollywood and Patricia Z. Beckmann (Cambridge University Press, 2012), 280, https://doi-
org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CCO9781139020886,
362 Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in Christian Mysticism,” 164; Grace M. Jantzen, Power,
Gender and Christian Mysticism, 159, 169.

364 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 99. In particular, Estévez López highlights reflections of the Samaritan
woman and Mary Magdalen. See: Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 266-7.
365 Jeffrey Hamburger, “Mysticism and Visuality,” 282.
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similar “stepping-stone” in the path from material to immaterial consideration. 367 Just as this initial
speculation of visible things marked an “indispensable stepping-stone” on the path to Divine
contemplation for the Victorines, so Teresa’s soul-castle offers an almost tangible means for
navigating or si(gh)ting the invisible soul, and the image itself is fundamentally visual and visionary
in construction.368
Like Augustine, Teresa structures her castle through three modes of seeing:
Firstly, corporeal sight refers to how objects in the external world are “seen with the bodily eyes and
use created images;”369 within her corpus this mode of seeing primarily refers to the seeing of
everyday objects, although on occasions she speaks to mystical apparitions visible to both her self
and others.370
Secondly, visiones imaginarias are experiences of internal visual sight which occur during
the ecstasies of the sixth moradas yet which are still grounded in images “of bodily things;”371 these
are seen through the eyes of the soul and become carved upon it.372 This ‘seeing’ is passively
bestowed upon the soul by the Divine during moments outside of normal consciousness, echoing
Augustine’s notion of the visio spiritualis. Teresa’s imaginary visions are inherently tied to the
incarnated Word-made-Flesh, the most common object of such interior seeing. In her Vida, Teresa
admits that she is only ever able to envision Christ’s humanity, a form fundamentally tied to that in
which He represents Himself to the eyes of her soul.373

368 Jeffrey Hamburger, “Mysticism and Visuality,” 288-9.
370 In particular, her Vida tells of an instance in which, whilst walking with a companion, she received a corporeal
vision of a great toad that was also visible to those around her. See Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 55.
372 “Está tan esculpida en el alma aquella vista, que todo su deseo es tornarla a gozar.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 524.
373 “Yo sólo podía pensar en Cristo como hombre.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 64.
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Y desear yo en estremo entender el color de sus ojos u de el tamaño que era, para que lo
supiese decir, jamás lo he merecido ver.374
However, she remarks that despite a desire to look upon the details of His form (His height, the
colour of His eyes) she was never able to do so, she was never worthy of such a sight before the
vision was lost. Thus, even in these corporeal glimpses of her Beloved lies a sense of transcendence:
He is always more than she can consume with the eyes of the soul.
This sense of visual transcendence comes to underpin her third mode of seeing, visiones
intelectuales, which constitute a form of non-visual sight, a non-seeing functioning at the most
intimate part of the soul beyond any sense of image. Echoing her imaginary vision of the Beloved,
Teresa describes these higher intellectual visions as like an experience of walking into a treasure
chamber (camarín) where one can gaze upon the multitudes of precious earthen and glassware, but
upon leaving it is impossible to recall the precious forms which one admired; 375 the experience
remains engraved upon the memory, but she cannot recall quite what she saw.
Teresa’s use of largely visual textual imagery to speak to her multi-sensory experiences of
Divine presence also echoes the Augustinian flavour of her recollection. Augustine’s conception of
bodily sight (visio corporalis) is performed not simply through the eyes but through all five corporeal
senses, and his visio intelectualis similarly forms a “pure intuitive sight” beyond image.376 For
Augustine, sight is the highest of the corporeal senses as it most closely reflects the two modes of
374 “And I desperately desired to understand the colour of His eyes or of what height He was, so that I would know
how to speak of Him, never have I been worthy of seeing him.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 154.
375 “Entráis en un aposento de un rey o gran señor – u creo camarín los llaman -, adonde tienen infinitos géneros
de vidrios y barros y muchas cosas, puestas por tal orden, que casi todas se ven en entrando. Una vez me llevaron
a una pieza de éstas en casa de la duquesa de Alva – adonde, viniendo de camino, me mandó la obediencia estar,
por haverlos importunado esta señora -, que me quedé espantada en entrando, y considerava de qué podía
aprovechar aquella baraúnda de cosas, y vía que se podía alabar al Señor de ver tantas diferencias de cosas; y
ahora me cai en gracia cómo me ha aprovechado para aquí. Y aunque estuve allí un rato, era tanto lo que havía
que ver, que luego se me olvidó todo, de manera que de nenguna de aquellas piezas me quedó más memoria que
si nunca las huviera visto, ni sabría decir de qué hechura eran.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 538.
376 St Augustine, On the Trinity, 61; Barbara Newman, “What did it mean to say I saw?,” 6.
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interior sight, and as such is taken as the model for all the senses. 377 Whilst I shall later argue that it is
not sight, but touch, which lies at the heart of Teresa’s mysticism, a reflection of Augustine’s
primacy of sight lies within her use of visual word-images and, by extension, the function of
language within her mysticism as a whole.378 For Teresa, language is tied to seeing, both in the
writing of her experience, and in the reading and visionary experiences which populate the soul-
castle.
In the depths of her soul-castle, Teresa’s visiones intelectuales function beyond any image as
they correlate with the unmediated encounters between her spirit and that of the Divine.379 These
highest levels of interior sight are quite distinct from the image-based visiones imaginaries, as here in
their bridal chamber there is no need for word or image. In a reading of Richard of St Victor’s dyadic
sight, Veerle Fraeters uncovers a similar sense of ‘beyond visuality:’ in the highest forms of his
spiritual vision (visio beatifica) the soul transcends itself and receives such Wisdom of the Divine
that this unitive experience cannot be discussed in terms of “visuality and cognition” as the subject-
Object relation upon which these concepts are founded is overcome. 380 Here the soul and the Divine
are so intimately impressed upon one another that there is no need for image to pass between them.
Similarly, for Teresa, intellectual visions mark the state in which she is utterly undone within in the
Divine embrace; with her own spirit dissolved within His, there is no need for any intermediary when
they are (spiritually) one. In contrast, the soul experiences imaginary visions from a point of
estrangement from its Beloved within the earlier moradas, where there remains a gap between them.
It would appear that just as language emerges from and traverses the gap between Teresa and her
377 St Augustine, On the Trinity, 61.

378 The question of Teresa’s spiritual senses will be addressed in chapter 5.
379 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 538.
380 Veerle Fraeters, “Visio/Vision,” in The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, eds. Amy Hollywood and
Patricia Z. Beckmann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 181-2, https://doi-

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Beloved, image emerges as a result of the gap between the human and Divine and is surpassed in
union. This “intersubjective” union not only offers a transcendence of subject and object, self and
Other, but a transcendence of the gap between word and thing, sign and signified:381 “l’oraison qui
amalgame le moi et l’Autre, amalgame aussi le mot à la chose.”382 Thus, Teresa’s language of seeing
climaxes in a mode of ‘sight’ in which there are no need for words, nor the images they conjure.
To further complicate the matter, Teresa’s language of seeing is one of knowing; a way “to
consider, in an intelligible way, the invisible process of cognition” and the ascent toward Divine
understanding.383 Much like that orig(e)n-al quest for the mystical meaning of scripture, her
progression through the castle in language is also a search for Truth of the Divine in mystical union.
Aunque digo que ve, no ve nada, porque no es visión imaginaria, sino muy intelectual …
adonde se le descubre como en Dios se ven todas las cosas y las tiene todas en sí mismo.384
Here her description of intellectual vision not only speaks to an image-less state of union, but to a
mode of seeing through. She does not see the Divine Himself, but He functions as a lens through
which Teresa is able to gaze. Rather than any ‘sight’ of the Divine, Teresa’s intellectual visions are
perhaps better considered a mode of seeing through; her seeing of nothing becomes a way of seeing
through to something, an arrival at understanding. Much like the act of ‘beholding’ for her mystical
predecessor Julian of Norwich, her vision(s) go beyond seeing, they suggest “observing and
examining in order to come to an understanding, … initiated in a visual apprehension.”385 As such,

382 “The prayer which amalgamates self and Other, also amalgamates word and thing.” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion
selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 48.
383 Veerle Fraeters, “Visio/Vision,” 178.
384 “Though I say one sees, one sees nothing, for this is not an imaginary vision, rather very intellectual … within
which it is discovered how in God all things are seen and how they all have Him within them.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 561.
385 Cate Gunn, “’A recluse atte Norwyche’: Images of Medieval Norwich and Julian’s Revelations,” in A Companion
to Julian of Norwich, ed. Liz Herbert McAvoy (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2008), 38.
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although Teresa does not ‘see’ the true form of the Divine, His presence is confirmed by her sight
through Him and from this intersubjective position she comes to Divine understanding, to see from
His point of view.
For Robert Kralj, this ‘seeing through’ is not solely a participation “in the gaze of God,” but
this Divine gaze is directed towards herself and so she “looks at herself with God’s eyes.”386 The
understanding of the Divine which marks the climax of recollection is a knowledge of her self, a self-
reflective understanding in which “there is no mental division between the observing and the
observed ‘self.’”387 A sense of this human-Divine reflection is tangible within Teresa’s image of the
camarín and its infinite display of glass and clay: here she both sees through Him as a diamond,
glass-like, crystalline-lens, and sees herself, a combination of spiritual transparency and human
clay.388 In Kralj’s mind, this self-gazing signifies the accomplishment of a total self-possession, the
arrival of Teresa at the boundary of her soul-self;389 here she comes to know her self through the eyes
of the Other.
Mystical arrival at a state transcending sight and self(-knowledge) also characterizes the
summit of another of Teresa’s mystical ‘mothers,’ Marguerite Porete. More than two centuries before
Teresa’s crystalline castle, Porete manifests her own mystical transformation through the image of
the soul as a mirror, outlining a process of self-annihilation which climaxes in a state of ecstatic
nothingness within the embrace of the Divine in which she “becomes the mirror of God.”390 Here the
386 Robert Kralj, “The Distinction Between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” in Celebrating Teresa of
Avila and Edith Stein. Two Seminars Organised by the Secular Order of the Teresian Carmel in Helsinki in 2015 and
2016, ed. Heidi Tuorila-Kahanpää (Helsinki: OCDS, 2017), 92.
387 Robert Kralj, “The Distinction Between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 92.
388 “Digamos ser la Divinidad como un muy claro diamante.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 225. Similarly,
within Las Moradas Teresa speaks of the misery of human nature as like burdened with earth. See: Teresa de
390 Emily A. Holmes, Flesh Made Word: Medieval Women Mystics, Writing and the Incarnation (Waco: Baylor
University Press, 2013), 136, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bristol/detail.action?docID=1513986.
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soul sees nothing, neither herself, nor the Divine, but comes to see that “there is nothing except God
Himself Who is, from whom all things are ... whoever sees the One who is does not see except God
Himself, who sees Himself in this same Soul.”391 Whilst Marguerite’s vision of the path to spiritual
annihilation is arguably more radical than Teresa’s camino de la oración, both paths converge at a
point of self-seeing and understanding in the Divine which functions beyond any visual sense of sight
itself. Both Teresa and Marguerite manifest their union in a language of seeing which speaks to a
transcendent and almost omnipotent state of understanding.
However, Teresa and Marguerite’s visions vitally diverge at the function of this sight in the
soul: for Marguerite, it is her entire soul which is clarified into that mirror of God. Whereas, as
Howells highlights, Teresa’s union of “mutual gazing” occurs within the “more interior part of the
soul,” the spirit.392 It is not her soul-entire which participates in ultimate union; only her spirit is
swept up and endowed with the understanding of this ultimate Divine embrace. Teresa’s reciprocal
sight signifies a mode of understanding which is beyond visual or verbal cognition: just as “two
persons on earth who love each other deeply and understand each other well; even without signs, just
by a glance (mirarse), it seems they understand each other.”393 For Howells her “mutual gazing” is
distinctly trinitarian, marking an arrival at a state of union within the Trinity which marks the climax
of the castle as a transition from natural to supernatural knowing.394 He highlights how it is an
intellectual vision of the Trinity that marks the instigation of Teresa’s spiritual dissolution, and
argues that rather than participating in the Divine gaze, the soul – like Marguerite - is transformed
throughout the castle into a trinitarian reflection which allows it to participate in the Trinity in the
391 Marguerite Porete, The Mirror of Simple Souls, trans. Ellen L. Babinsky (New York: Paulist Press, 1993), 193.
393 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 110. Here Howells directly quotes Teresa’s Vida. See:
Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 145.

394 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 110, 1.
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final moradas.395 This highest sense of supernatural knowing is again an ascent to/of self-knowledge,
but it is a knowledge of her self in direct unmediated relation to the parts of the Trinity; transformed
she comes to know her self in the same relationship as the Son to the Father. 396 In her ‘sight’ through
the Divine she comes to know “created things through their [Divine] cause, a priori, rather than
knowing the cause through the effects, a posteriori.”397 Whilst they may diverge on how the soul
comes to know (itself) in intellectual vision, both Howells and Kralj (and Marguerite) demonstrate
that at its climax Teresa’s language of seeing leads to a transcendence of vision itself. The language
of seeing speaks to an ascent towards self-knowing in which He is revealed within the soul-castle
through imaginary visions and Teresa is finally drawn into the Divine embrace in the ultimate union
of the seventh moradas. Here intellectual ‘vision’ constitutes knowledge of the Divine which is
achieved by ‘seeing through’ the Divine lens. This “participatory and existential kind of ‘knowing’”
is not rooted in word or image, but in a state of union which eclipses the subject-Object relation.398
A Seeing of Language
Teresa’s language of seeing also speaks to the function of language within recollection as a ‘seeing
of/from language.’ Tyler’s argument for ‘showing’ not ‘saying’ hinges upon his comparative analysis
with Ludwig Wittgenstein: borrowing Wittgenstein’s ‘language games,’ Tyler presents the
philosopher’s question: “What then exactly hovers before us (vorschwebt) when we understand a
word? - Isn’t it something like a picture?”399 Whilst this is true of the flood of word-images in
Teresa’s own text, it is also possible to use this question to consider the role of language in Teresa’s
mystical practice.
398 Mark McIntosh, Mystical Theology, 132.
399 Ludwig Wittgenstein, “Philosophical Investigations,” trans. Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative
Discourse,” 18.
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Tomamos un paso de la Pasión, digamos como el prendimiento, y andamos en este misterio
considerando por menudo las cosas que hay que pensar en él y que sentir.400
For Teresa, the actions of prayer, meditation, and contemplation are entwined in ‘walking’ through
the soul-castle.401 In her calls to the reader to both imitate Christ’s suffering and place themselves
within the narrative to watch and follow in His image, Teresa (a)ffectively describes a seeing of
language: from reading a passage she generates a mental image and is able to place herself into the
narrative, following Christ’s suffering to the Father. Thus, the power of words to generate image lies
at the very foundation of Teresa’s practice, it offers both the means of the castle’s construction and
her initial movements through the first three realms. This seeing of language evolves as she moves
into the more passive realms of the castle, and she moves from interior visualisation of the Passion to
passive imaginary visions, image-based revelations of the Word-made-Flesh. Finally in the ultimate
moradas this seeing from language is transformed into a state of intellectual vision in which both
image and word are overcome.
A language of transformation
Teresa’s word-image process, however, is not simply a seeing of language but an embodiment of that
language. As Newman argues, through this process the (scriptural) text becomes “deeply
internalised” and forms part of the “inner landscape” of the mystic.402 Teresa’s seeing of/from
language becomes a process of embodiment, a consumption of the text into her landscape of the soul.
In her path towards self-knowledge and perfection, language’s transformative power is not purely in
the moment; rather it leaves a lasting imprint upon the landscape of the soul in preparation for future
experience. 403
400 “We take a scene from the Passion, let us say the arrest, and we wander within this mystery considering all the
things there are to think of in it and to feel.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 550.
401 Cecilia Inés Avenatti de Palumbo, “Experiencia teopatica y lenguaje teofánico,” 21.
402 Barbara Newman, “What did it mean to say I saw?,” 18.
403 Barbara Newman, ‘What did it mean to say I saw?’, 18.
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Within the castle this transformation is tangible; the raw material of the soul is ‘labrando’,
re-shaped or reconstructed in its journey towards the spiritual perfection required for mystical union.
The soul is ‘imprimida’ and ‘esculpida’ at the hands of the Divine Artist who shapes the soul with
marks of His presence.
Cuando, estando el alma en esta suspensión, el Señor tiene por bien demonstrarle algunos
secretos, como de cosas del cielo y visiones imaginaries, esto sábelo después decir; y de tal
manera queda imprimido en la memoria, que nunca jamás se olvida.404
Here Teresa again marks her entanglement with the mystical textual tradition. This language of re-
construction clearly reflects Osuna’s image of the soul as a broken vessel in need of recollective
repair and even Marguerite’s vision of self-annihilation is framed as an “apophatic polishing” of the
soul-mirror.405 Closer to home, Teresa de Cartagena’s (b. 1420-35) Arboleda outlines a more literal
re-making of the landscape of the soul which she envisions as a desert to which she was exiled by the
loss of her hearing.406 In her mind, through the cultivation of virtues, the reading of the Psalms, and
spiritual consolations the aridity of this spiritual landscape is transformed into flourishing groves
under which she can shelter.407 Beneath the arboreal image, Teresa de Cartagena frames spiritual
transformation as a re-formation and re-generation of the soul through a language of cultivation and
growth; just as our Teresa’s moradas unfurl within herself, the branches of Teresa de Cartagena’s
arboleda uncurl, blossom, and produce fruit.
404 “When, the soul being in a suspension, the Lord takes it upon Himself to show it some secrets, like things of
heaven and imaginary visions, these it is able to speak of later; and in such a way do they remain impressed upon
the memory, that never ever will it forget.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 537.
405 “¿Piensas que Dios ha de poner su gracia en vaso tan inútil? … los corazones de los justos, que son vasos de
oro.” Francisco de Osuna, Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 134; Emily A. Holmes, Flesh Made Word, 136.
406 Teresa de Cartagena, “Arboleda de los Enfermos,” in Arboleda de los Enfermos y Admiraçión Operum Dey, ed.
Lewis Joseph Hutton (Madrid: Imprenta Aguirre, 1967), 37-8.

407 Teresa de Cartagena, “Arboleda de los Enfermos,” 38.
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Although this grove-image forms the foundation of Teresa de Cartagena’s text, it does not
come to embody and structure her writing to the same extent of our Teresa’s castle. Furthermore, in
our Teresa’s soul-castle there is an inherent unity between the artistry of her language and the soul-
as-image transformed through the image of the castle. This language of transformation is quasi-
sculptural, implying a re-modelling or re-shaping of the raw material of the soul-image at an almost
practical level.
Howells highlights how this transformational re-forming is not only a result of Teresa’s
visions throughout the castle, but the nature of this re-shaping differs depending upon the type of
vision she experiences. Her imaginary visions are not just image-based; rather these are “living”
images “impressed” (imprimida) upon the material of the soul which afterward are found “to have
changed the soul for the better.”408 In contrast, intellectual visions are “‘engraved’ (esculpido) upon
the soul directly,” as they require no image-based intermediary and function at a deeper (spiritual)
level within the soul.409 Whilst Howells recognises the distinction between impression and carving,
he misses the subtleties of the distinction. Imprimida suggests a re-moulding, the reconstitution of
something into the shape of another that is in a sense “deferred” insofar as the original image is not
necessarily present;410 in contrast esculpida can be taken to signify not merely ‘engraved’ but
‘sculpted’ or ‘carved,’ both of which speak to a more direct re-shaping: many impressions may be
taken from the intermediary of a mould, whilst carving requires a more personal touch. Furthermore,
these images for the re-shaping of the soul also speak to its state of transformation. Impression
implies the material substance in question is in a more flexible state, and at earlier position within the
moulding process in which its entire form can be radically re-formed. Carving implies a more solid,
410 Mary Margaret Anderson, “’Thy Word in Me’: On the Prayer of Union in St Teresa of Avila ’s “Interior Castle”,”
The Harvard Theological Review 99, no. 3 (2006), 353, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0017816006001271.
111
fixed material state from which, piece by piece, the final form can be perfected. Thus, this distinction
in Teresa’s language of seeing, again reflects the degrees of proximity and distance between her self
and the Divine. In the penultimate moradas some intermediary is required (an image or word) to
convey Divine presence and the transformational effect of this ‘seeing’ is similarly mediated via
impression. In the final realms of mystical union however, Teresa is so irrevocably entangled in spirit
with her Beloved that there is no gap for anything to pass between them, the understanding of the
Divine can be directly carved upon her most intimate point.
Interestingly, it is not only images but words which Teresa finds carved into the material of
her self. Within the sixth moradas, both the marks of His visual presence and the words He speaks to
her are engraved into the surface of her soul:
No pasarse estas palabras de la memoria en muy mucho tiempo - y algunas jamás -, como se
pasan las que por acá entendemos; digo que oímos de los hombres; que aunque sean muy
graves y letrados, no las tenemos tan esculpidas en la memoria.411
This linguistic carving functions as a reassurance, His word, “«No tengas pena»”, is a confirmation
of “la verdadera sabiduria” of His presence.412 In a soul suffering the spiritual aridity of the previous
moradas, language serves not only to re-shape its form but to sooth its spiritual torment. Similarly,
the prologue to Ludolph of Saxony’s Vita Christi – a favourite Passion guide of Teresa – quotes John
Chrysostom, stating that “the Scriptures were not given to us simply to preserve them in books but so
that we could engrave them on our hearts.”413 Therefore, the inscribing of words in the
411 “These words do not leave the memory for a very long time - and some never -, like those we understand on
earth; I mean those we hear from men; however deep and learned they may be, we do not have them so deeply
engraved upon the memory.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 532.
412 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 532, 510.
413 Ludolph of Saxony, The Life of Jesus Christ: Part One, Volume 1, Chapter 1-40, trans. Milton T. Walsh
(Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2018), prologue, https://search-ebscohost-

com.bris.idm.oclc.org/login.aspx?direct=true&db=nlebk&AN=1790543&site=ehost-live.
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transformation of the soul not only marks a state of certainty within Teresa’s progression towards the
Divine, but brings us back to the scriptural source, in a sense rendering her soul like a page of
scripture under the Divine hand.414
The process of carving also traverses the different frontiers of the soul from interior to
exterior. The Divine dwells at her most interior point and His word permeates from this point
outwards to touch her spiritual hearing and memory, both of which are located in more external
realms of the soul. Furthermore, for Estévez Lopéz, this interior inscription functions as an
‘actualisation’ of this transformation, allowing Teresa to revisit the experience and its (a)ffects. 415
Thus, language penetrates from interior to exterior leaving a sensible mark to which the soul can
return to certify its Divine engagement.
Towards the end of the sixth moradas however, Teresa speaks of language as adding to,
rather than soothing, the soul’s spiritual torment.
Andándose ansí esta alma abrasándose en si mesma, acaece muchas veces por un
pensamiento muy ligero u por una palabra que oye de que se tarda el morir, venir de otra
parte - no se entiende de dónde ni cómo - un golpe, u como si viniese una saeta de fuego.416
The soul, having previously experienced a taste union in fleeting rapture, now burns with longing to
once again feel the cool flow of Divine love. Here a single word functions like a flaming arrow, just
one thought of how far she is from deathly union with her Beloved wounding the soul at its most
414 Again, this a traditionally mystical image, only a century before her Caterina Vigri speaks to the soul as blank
page upon which one’s experience and learning are written, and two centuries earlier Marguerite d’Oingt
envisions the Divine writing upon the text of her heart. See: Caterina de Vigri, I sermoni, ed. Gilberto Sgarbi
(Bologna: Barghigiani Editore, 1999), 18; Maguerite d’Oingt, “Mirror,” in The Writings of Marguerite of Oingt,
trans. Renate Blumenfeld-Kosinski (Camrbidge: D. S. Brewer, 1990), 41.
416 “This soul walks thus burning in itself, it happens many times from a quick thought or a word it hears of how
death is so far away, there comes from another part – it does not know from where nor how – a blow, just as if it
were struck by a flaming arrow.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 563.
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intimate depths. Furthermore, this word-arrow inflames the soul to a state of exquisite ecstasy in
which the soul burns in desire whilst the corporal body cools and dislocates into a death-like state.417
Once again language is transformative, wounding the soul and altering its state of being. Here
language’s penetrative power is extended, transgressing from the external world through the body to
the most intimate part of the soul, the effects of which ramify back out to the body.
These sixth moradas mark a point of transformation in which Teresa and the Beloved are
betrothed; now she is tantalisingly close, yet there remains some barrier between them.
¡Oh Señor!, si una palabra enviada a decir con un paje vuestro (que à lo que dicen - al
menos estás, en esta morada -, no las dice el mesmo Señor, sino algún ángel) tienen tanta
fuerza, ¿qué tal la dejaréis en el alma que está atada por amor con Vos y Vos con ella?418
Here, although language can traverse the void, it appears unable to do so of its own accord. He calls
to her to join Him, but His word must be transported to the sixth moradas by an angelic intermediary.
In the final moments before union, language does not come directly from the Divine but requires a
vehicle through which it can reach her soul. Although Teresa’s earlier locutions spoke to language as
the unifying, transformative bond between Teresa and her Beloved, as she climbs closer to Him it
echoes the role of the textual “threshold,” increasingly signifying the space that remains between
them.419
Once placed within seventh moradas, however, all gaps between them are overcome and her
spirit (the most intimate part of the soul) becomes permanently united with that of the Divine. The
gap between mystical child and (m)Other is surpassed and so is the need for word and image.
417 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 563-4.

418 “Oh Lord! If one word sent through your page (as it is said, at least in this morada -, He does not speak Himself,
but through some angel) has such force, how powerful will be that one which You leave in the soul that is tied by
love with You and You with her.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 532.
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Es tanto este sentimiento, que producen algunas veces unas palabras regaladas, que parecen
no se pueden escusar de decir: ¡Oh, vida de mi vida y sustento que me sustentas!420
Yet language still applies here. As His bride language becomes a ‘delight’ for Teresa, an
uncontainable somatic expression of the joy of union. This exclamation originates in her Divinely-
entwined spirit and permeates outwards into a vocal manifestation of the body. In Kristevian terms,
this is Teresa’s psyche-soma in which her mystical experience functions not purely in the soul but
within the soul-body as a single entity.421 Rather than emerging from any gap between Teresa and her
Beloved, here language erupts from the interiority of this union, from the tension between the interior
of the soul-body and the external world.
Therefore, language can be seen as the tool which transforms her soul along its approach to
the Divine. Through meditation she enters into the text and in this recollective process the text enters
into her. In her mind language ultimately serves to sculpt the form of her soul, carving both the
landscape and the pilgrim who follows His path through it. Here language is transformed for Teresa,
becoming an uncontrollable expression of the spiritual pleasure of her union. However, these image-
generative powers are individual elements of the wider function of the cord of language which
courses through the void between the human and Divine.
Language and/of image

Teresa’s language of seeing and transformation is inherently tied to image, both in its form (word-
images) and its (a)ffect upon the soul. In describing the benefits of imaginary visions Teresa speaks
of them as “in closer conformity with our nature,” implying an underlying sense of incarnation
within her use of image.422 Visiones imaginarias take the form of corporeal images (Christ), just as
420 “It is so strong this sensation, which produces at times delightful words, that one cannot help but say: Oh life of
my life and sustenance who sustains me!” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 572.
421 Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 45.
422 “me parecen más provechosas, porque son más conformes a nuestro natural;” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
556.
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the human soul is an image of the Divine embodied within corporeal form. There is an non-visibility
to this chain of images: her castle is a mental image of the soul which in turn is an image of the
Divine; through the castle this soul-image is re-made in a quest for perfection in the model of the
original embodiment of that Divine image, Christ.
Therefore, one can envision Teresa’s mystical ascension as a return of the soul-image
through image to its Creator. The soul-image journeys through the castle-image of itself following
the Imago Dei (the original Christological Image) to the Divine. There is, however, more than one
layer of image to untangle. Firstly, her recollective retreat is one of the soul-image returning to the
Divine model or Artist from and by which it was made; yet this return is also a re-making of her
image. The soul is carved, re-shaped, and impressed into a more perfect image of the Divine. To
communicate this image re-making, Teresa lays before the reader yet another tactile image.
Quiere que, sin que ella entiende cómo, salga de allí sellada con su sello; porque
verdaderamente el alma allí no hace más que la cera cuando imprime otro el sello, que la
cera no se le imprime a sí; sólo está dispuesta, digo blanda.423
The soul in its ascent towards the seventh moradas is wax passively waiting to be re-formed by the
seal of the Lord. The vision of the soul as malleable wax is long-standing; it can be traced back to
Aristotle’s De Anima and is taken up by Thomas Aquinas three centuries before Teresa employs the
image. In both Aristotle and Aquinas, the image speaks again to the sense of touch and
transformation within the human gaze: the soul takes on the form of the seen object just as wax takes
the form of a gold seal, but whilst it is re-shaped into a likeness of the seal it does not adopt the
423“He wishes that, without her understanding how, she leaves there sealed with His seal; because truly the soul
does no more there than wax when it is impressed with another seal, in that the wax does not seal itself; it is only
willing, I mean soft.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas del Castillo Interior,” 515.
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golden nature of the seal itself.424 A similar sense is tangible for Teresa, the soul-image drawn into
the depths of the Divine is left impressed with His image, transformed in His perfect likeness, and yet
does not (yet) become Divine itself; only her spirit ultimately enters into Him. The soul is like a
maquette which is re-worked as it approaches the Divine Artist, becoming a closer likeness of the
original but not actually becoming Divine. Such re-making is an ascent towards He from whom it
was created, yet from whom she maintains some distinction.
For Teresa, however, this waxen re-making also speaks to a sense of passivity and belonging.
The soft material of the soul is impressed with His seal, not only underlining its disposal to the
Divine will, but His ownership of her. This sense of belonging continues into the climax of the
central moradas, where the soul’s reconstruction is finalised as it is branded with His emblem.
Hacerse esclavos de Dios, a quien - señalados con su hierro, que es el de la cruz, porque ya
ellos le han dado su libertad - los pueda vender por esclavos de todo el mundo, como Él lo
fue.425
The soul’s re-making is complete (as complete as it can be) as it is branded with the symbolic image
of Divine as an internal mark of the soul’s permanent servitude to the Spouse; here Teresa even
makes the image of the cross, ♱, in place of the written word.426 The soul-image reconstruction is
completed by the impression of another image of the Divine in whose image it was made and to
whom she now entirely belongs.
424 Thomas Aquinas, A Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima, trans. Robert Pasnau (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1999), 283.
425 “To make themselves slaves of God, by whom – marked with His sign, which is that of the cross, because now
they have given Him their freedom – they can be sold as slaves to all the world, just as He was.” Teresa de Jesús,
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The re-making of the perfect image, however, is a doomed quest. For Teresa, the journey of
perfection is punctuated by the experience of the mystical marriage, but its destination is never
attained until death.427 While a self-perfecting soul-image can approach and unite with the Divine in
its seventh moradas, the achievement of a true likeness of the soul cannot be completed in this life.
Like wax under the golden seal, the image is always held back from true perfection by its human
nature. Only upon its release in death can the entire soul-image become one with the Origin Himself;
here, in the castle, it is only the spirit, the core of the image, which is undone in its Creator.
Secondly, this soul-image re-construction is performed through the model of the original
Image of the Word. If imitation is the remaking of oneself in the image of anOther, Teresa’s
approach to the Divine is a re-shaping of her soul-image in the mould of the Word-made-Flesh. This
Christological re-making is particularly tangible in the recurring mirror-image that courses through
her corpus.
Un espejo para la humildad, mirando cómo cosa buena que hagamos no viene su principio
de nosotros, sino de esta fuente adonde está plantado este árbol de nuestras almas.428
Within the very first moradas, Teresa describes how she receives a ‘mirror for humility’ in which she
can clearly see how all her good acts are rooted in the Divine. Similarly, in the final moradas she
speaks of how she comes to understand John 17: 21 as speaking to how all shall be included in the
union between the Son and the Father, but that our fundamental flaw is not turning within to look for
427 “del divino y espiritual matrimonio, aunque esta gran merced no deve cumplirse con perfección mientra vivimos,
pues si nos apartasémos de Dios, se perdería este tan gran bien” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas del Castillo
Interior,” 570.
428 “A mirror for humility, looking to see how each good thing we does not find its origin in ourselves, but in this
source within which is planted this tree of life of our souls.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 476.
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Him, the mirror in which our image is engraved. 429 In both instances, the Divine offers a mirror into
which Teresa must gaze in order to return to Him. Furthermore, both mirror-images speak of
knowing: within the first moradas He, as the mirror, reveals not only her baseness, but her
fundamental source in Him; within the final moradas, she comes to know the Divine mystery behind
those scriptural words not through any grace of her own.
Whilst within the castle these mirror-images appear to refer to the Divine, if we turn to her
Vida a particularly Christological undertone can be uncovered.
Estando una vez en las Horas con todas, de presto se recogió mi alma y parecióme ser como
un espejo claro toda, sin haver espaldas ni lados, ni alto ni bajo que no estuviese toda clara,
y en el centro de ella se me representó Cristo nuestro Señor, como le suelo ver. Parecíame en
todas las partes de mi alma le vía claro como en un espejo, y también este espejo – yo no sé
decir cómo – se esculpía todo en el mesmo Señor.430
In an imaginary vision, Teresa sees her soul as an endless mirror within which is represented Christ,
yet this mirror is also sculpted in Him. Within this chapter she not only speaks to the Divine as a
diamond, but also infers that such mirror-imagery is particularly reflective of Christ, the embodied
Image who lies between human and Divine.431 Christ, her mirror of humility, not only indicates the
429 “«No sólo ruego por ellos, sino por todos aquellos que han de creer en mí también» «Yo estoy en ellos».”
Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas del Castillo Interior,” 573. Her poem, Búscate en Mí has a similarly
sculptural/impressionable sense of the Divine image within the soul. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Poesías,” in Obras
Completas de Santa Teresa de Jesús, ed. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de
Autores Cristianos, 2018), 655.
430 “Once during Hours, all of a sudden my soul was recollected and it seemed to me in its entirety like a clear
mirror, with neither back nor sides, nor top nor bottom that was not utterly clear, and in the centre Christ showed
Himself to me, just as I usually see Him. It seemed to me that in every part of my soul I saw Him clearly as in a
mirror, and also this mirror – I cannot say how – was carved all in that same Lord.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la
Vida,” 224.
431 “Digamos ser la Divinidad como un muy claro diamante, muy mayor que todo el mundo, u Espejo, a manera de
lo que dije del alma en estotra visión.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 225.
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Divine at her source, but also signifies the dual human-Divine nature of the soul. It is in His
embodied Divine reflection that she comes to know her self.
Yet in the journey that follows this recollective in-turn, Christ is both the initial signifier of
the Divine potential within the soul and the guide who Teresa follows through the castle. In calling
her hermanas to “Poned los ojos en el Crucificado,” Teresa presents Christ’s reflection as both the
symbolic image to aspire to and the guide to follow in the image re-making process. 432 As we have
seen, Teresa’s imitative approach functions as a seeing of/from language, but this can also be applied
to its transformational nature. As Suzannah Biernoff proclaims, “vision, in the medieval world, did
not leave the viewer untouched or unchanged,” even corporeal sight was conceived as the impression
upon the eye or mind of the viewer.433 The two most prominent theories of sight (extramission and
intromission) both operated through the notion of contact between the seen object and the eye of the
beholder, a sensory interaction in which “to see was to become similar to one’s object.”434 Within the
realms of imitatio, such impressionable sight implied that visually focusing upon Christ (through
both exterior and interior images) held the potential for assimilation and identification with His form.
For example, Biernoff calls upon Roger Bacon, for whom “‘passion’ was synonymous with the idea
of a deep, ‘interior’ impression: analogous to the imprint of a seal in wax, but altering all the wax and
not just its surface.”435 Thus, at the core of imitatio and its Passionate focus lies the potential for
tangible self-refashioning; imitation does not simply signify embodying the behaviour or suffering of
the Beloved, but an internal assimilation of “Christ’s flesh and blood through a visual interaction.” 436

433 Suzannah Biernoff, Sight and Embodiment in the Middle Ages (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 137.
434 Suzannah Biernoff, Sight and Embodiment in the Middle Ages, 137.
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For Biernoff, Angela of Foligno embodies this interconnection of Christological imitation,
vision, and transformation and within her works we find strong Teresian reflections. Firstly, both she
and Teresa describe tangible corporeal expressions of anguish at the sight images of Christ’s
suffering on the cross: Angela is overtaken by fever and sickness at the sight of His suffering, whilst
Teresa feels as though her heart is torn from her body by an image of His wounded form.437
Similarly, Angela describes a vision sparked by the sight of an image of Christ embracing St Francis
and in which her Beloved promises her that same intimacy. 438 Though these words are bittersweet
and she is filled with anguish at His withdrawal, Angela subsequently melts with love as she
discovers the sign of the cross impressed upon the depths of her soul.439 Whilst for Teresa the
impression of the cross marks a climax of mystical union, Angela’s model serves to highlight
imitatio as more than an embodiment of Christ in imagination, behaviour, and practice: through sight,
vision, and assimilation, imitation performs a tangible interior transformation, a literal re-formation
of the soul in His image.
Within her castle, Teresa’s meditative visualisations, locutions, and visions all serve to alter
the nature of her soul-image in the mould of that original Image of perfection. In the eyes of
Frohlich, Teresa’s mystical phenomena alter “her being at its very core” as her “own interior space is
reshaped into the space of the story of Christ.”440 For Mary Margaret Anderson, Teresa’s waxen and
mirror images are vitally intertwined in Christ. The impression of the seal into wax not only implies a
re-formation, but also a mirror image, “the presence of a mirror, one that inverts otherness,
437 “Acaecióme que, entrando un día en el oratorio, vi una imagen que havían traído allí a guardar, que se havía
buscado para cierta fiesta que se hacía en casa. Era de Cristo muy llagado y tan devota que, en mirándola, toda me
turbó de verle tal, porque representava bien lo que pasó por nosotros. Fue tanto lo que sentí de lo mal que había
agradecido aquellas llagas, que el corazón me parece se me partía, y arrojéme cabe El con grandísimo
derramamiento de lágrimas.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 63; Angela of Foligno, Complete Works, trans.
Paul Lachance (New York: Paulist Press, 1993), 131.
438 Angela of Foligno, Complete Works, 141.
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exteriority,” into an interiority shaped in Him.441 Teresa’s soul, initially a clouded image of the
Divine, is re-made throughout the castle in the model of that original embodied Divine Image. Here
Christ offers both “armature and mould” for the re-construction of her soul.442 This sentiment
emerges not only in the passive stages of recollection, but is also echoed in her Vida where she
speaks to meditation as a progressive perfecting of one’s interior representation of Christ within. 443
Thus, we can see how this entanglement of languages of seeing, vision, and transformation all speak
to an subtextual preoccupation with image, language and (w/W)ord.
“A veritable twin of Christ”444
Despite the visuality and tangibility of her language, Teresa never portrays the Christological nature
of her transformation in exterior terms. At times she may describe corporeally sensible experiences,
but unlike Angela (or Francis or Catherine of Siena) these sensations do not manifest in any visible
(or invisible) stigmatic reflection of Christ’s form;445 nor does she speak to any external embodiment
of the crucifixion like Juana de la Cruz who became the cross itself.446 Though it is rumoured that the
scars of her transverberation are visible upon her heart, echoing Gertrude of Helfta whose stigmata
became impressed upon this organ, Teresa does not speak of this ecstatic piercing of her side in
strictly Christological or external terms.447 For Teresa, the radical Christological re-fashioning of her
441 Mary Margaret Anderson, “Thy Word in Me,” 353.

443 “¿Cómo podríamos representar con estudio la Humanidad de Cristo y ordenando con la imaginación su gran
hermosura? … Bien la pude representar delante de su imaginación y estarla mirando algún espacio, y las figuras
que tiene y la blancura, y poco a poco irla más perficionando y encomendando a la memoria aquella imagen.”
445 The corporeal nature of her transformation will be explored in greater depth in chapters 3 and 5.
446 Pablo Acosta-Garcia, “«En Viva Sangre Bañadas»,” 169.
447 Carolyn Muessig, The Stigmata in Early Modern Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), 156,
https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780198795643.001.0001.
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self may be sparked in language (and image) from the external realm, but her re-making is a
fundamentally interior affair.
Nevertheless, this re-formation of the material image of the soul constitutes a transformation
of Teresa’s subjectivity, the very nature of her self. In her examination of the practice and portrayal
of Beatrice of Nazareth, Hollywood offers a similar reflection of Christological self-refashioning in
the interior. Hollywood reveals that whilst Beatrice’s hagiographer(s) may demonstrate a visible
preoccupation with exterior signs of her mystical transformation, Beatrice’s text is far more
concerned with her internal “identification” with the Divine.448 For Beatrice, the internalisation of
Christ’s suffering on the cross is an attempt to overcome her estrangement from the Beloved, an
interiorisation of His image such that her “soul itself is formed and constituted in that image” so as to
share in “imaginary identification with his suffering exile.”449 Just as the child in Lacan’s Mirror
Stage comes to know itself as split and other to itself, always known through the gaze of another,
Hollywood argues that Beatrice’s subjectivity is (re)formed by identification with the suffering
Christ.450 Like Teresa, Beatrice’s Passionate spiritual practice and unitive experience re-forms her
interior in the image of her absent Beloved, yet this new Christological subjectivity is fraught; re-
made in/as/through His image, the soul now feels constrained by the cage of its own corporeality and
Christ becomes not only source of her identity but the destroyer of it. 451
Teresa’s self-remaking suggests a similar subjective transformation: the sight of her self in/as
the Christological mirror not only identifies her self as split between human and Divine, but here she
448 Amy Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and her hagiographer,” 89; Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy,
262.
450 Jacques Lacan, Écrits. A Selection, trans. Alan Sheridan (London: Tavistock Publications, 1977), 1-7. Amy
Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and her hagiographer,” 93.

451 Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy, 262-3; Amy Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and her
hagiographer,” 93.
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comes to know herself (truly) through the image of anOther. This split self-knowledge then allows
her to begin the path to (re)union which involves a similar self-annihilation. As her soul is re-formed
in His Image, her previous soul-self is irrevocably transformed into a more perfect reflection of the
Divine. Howells highlights how this self-destruction reflection is inherently epistemological,
Teresa’s transformation from natural knowing to supernatural knowing requires an apparent
destruction of the structure of the soul.452 Yet, for Howells, this destruction is not truly an
annihilation of Teresa’s self, but rather a re-structuring of the soul’s faculties in “the pale image of
God.”453 Teresa’s self is not annihilated in some obliterative mystical abandon, but rather, is radically
restructured at the height of the spiritual marriage. Like Beatrice, at times Teresa’s corpus is tinged
with a deathly desire to flee the constraints of the body which prevents its arrival at total Divine
union.454 In contrast, McGinn argues that within the walls of her castle Teresa’s outlines a more
“mature” vision of mystical union in which the body plays an essential role. 455 In the union of the
seventh moradas Teresa’s body is not a limitation but the vessel by which she lives out His will in
works.
Howells proposes that this is the genius of Teresa’s mystical union, she places Christ’s
hypostatic union within the relationship of the Son and the Father in the Trinity.456 This allows for
two distinctions: firstly, unlike Beatrice, union encompasses the body, just as Christ’s image
embodies a union of human and Divine. Secondly, through this Christ-image she ascends to a parallel
relation to the Trinity through her own human-Divine nature. Christ is not only the guide, her
454 This sentiment is most prominent within her Vida in which she regards ecstasy or rapture as the climax of the
spiritual path, and in which the body prevents the complete conjunction of the soul with her Beloved. Bernard
McGinn outlines this ‘maturation’ of Teresa’s vision of union and the body from her Vida to Las Moradas. See
Bernard McGinn, “‘One word will contain within itself a thousand mysteries’,” 23. Such sentiment also emerges
within her later poem Muero porque no muero. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Poesías,” 645.
455 Bernard McGinn, “‘One word will contain within itself a thousand mysteries’,” 23.
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“companion … to the highest levels,” but through her re-making in His Image she is able to achieve
union with the Divine itself.457 This parallel union with Christ is not the climax of her transformation,
but a condition for her entry into the final realm of her self. The embodied nature of that original
Image fundamentally facilitates her assumption to a corresponding union to that of the Son with the
Father.458 In a sense, Christ-like, Teresa is transformed into anOther Image of the Divine.
Thus, Christ-as-reflection functions like an intermediary between Teresa and the Divine. His
image sits between the visible corporeal realm and that of the unseeable Divine; as a reflection He
can be ‘seen’ (conceived in the mind) but has no physical form. Christ, however, is not only a word-
image generated from the word of scripture, but as the Word-made-Flesh He is the original Image of
the Word. Within Teresa’s practice therefore Christ-as-image takes on a dual role: He is both a word-
image generated in the mind’s eye, and the original Image-Word (Image of the Word) in whose
image she is re-made. She may not describe any sense of becoming one with Christ unlike many of
her medieval mothers, but rather Teresa achieves a union or becoming in parallel. 459 A “veritable
twin of Christ,” at the penultimate point of the castle Teresa assumes an almost quasi-corporeal unity
with the Word-made-Flesh through their mirror-images.460
Word-Image/Image-Word
Whilst this parallel union does not mark the summit of her soul-castle, it is also possible to read the
climax of Teresa’s mystical transformation through this image lens. In her mind, the union of
459 For example, Hadewijch describes a vision in which Christ came to her first in the form of an eagle, then as a
child, and finally as the Man and sweeps her into His embrace: “After that he came himself to me, took me
entirely in his arms, and pressed me to Him; and all my members felt his in full felicity in accordance with the
desire of my heart and my humanity… I saw him completely come to nought and so fade and all at once dissolve
that I could no longer recognize or perceive him outside me, and I could no longer distinguish him within
me.” Hadewijch, The Complete Works, trans. Mother Columbia Hart (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), 281.
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mystical matrimony consists of the irreversible inter-permeation of the human spirit into the “espíritu
increado” of the Divine.461 Here her spirit is made one with His, forming a new state of being in
which they can never again become separated.
Acá es como si cayendo agua del cielo en un río u fuente, adonde queda hecho todo agua,
que no podrán ya dividir ni apartar cuál es el agua del río u lo que cayó del cielo.462
Teresa as image returns to the Origin and dissolves into Him; the image regresses until it becomes a
close enough likeness of the original model that it disappears into its raw ‘uncreated’ material,
transforming her into a new image. Teresa does not quite claim to become one with the entirety of
the Divine, but His spirit and hers unite to create something new in her, and this new creation in turn
transforms His language once again.
Las palabras del Señor son hechas como obras en nosotros.463
In the final chapter of her castle the united soul is enslaved to the Divine, not only the contemplative
realm but also in active practice as Teresa calls to her sisters that words will not suffice, they must
embody them in their work.464 His Word becomes transformed through the living body of the mystic
who carries out works in His name on Earth. She calls her daughters to work(s), just as she fulfils His
will through writing and reform, embodying the (w/W)ord in spirit in the exterior; now she is no
longer simply a soul-image of the Divine but an incarnation of the Word. Although she remains an
imperfect image, Teresa has truly imitated the Christ-image and become, in a sense, the Word-made-

462 “Here it is as if water fell from the sky into a river or fountain, in which all remains water, so that now no one
could divide nor separate which is the water of the river or that which fell from the sky.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 571.
463 “The words of the Lord are rendered as works in us.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 572.
464 “Su Majestad nos mostró el amor con tan espantable obras y tormentos, ¿cómo queries contentarle con solo
palabras?” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 580.
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Flesh, an Image of the Word. Manoussakis argues this Word-made-Flesh transformation is an
incarnation of the spiritual, opposed to a spiritualisation of the corporeal, and thus here His Word is
transformed through Teresa (soul and body).465 Furthermore, De Certeau argues that this
embodiment of the Word (a)ffects a reciprocal transformation in the mystic, who becomes “a relic of
the [O]ther, an erotic sign, a spoken and speaking memorial.”466 The transformation of the Word
through Teresa in body and soul causes her to transform once more: embodying His Word she
becomes a sign for the Other. She becomes a word for Him. Just as language transformed her through
practice, now Teresa comes to embody the words of the Word.
In her incarnation of the (w/W)ord, once again we find echoes of Angela of Foligno: “God
became flesh in order that he might make me God.”467 Emily Holmes argues that the devotional and
textual practices of female mystics perform an “expansion of the incarnation” which both authorises
their writing and speaks to their divinisation in text;468 such “thinking the incarnation from below”
she argues, precedes the thought of contemporary feminist scholarship.469 For Angela, Holmes draws
upon Cixous’s call to an écriture feminine, a practice of writing which breaks free of phallocentric
constraints.470 Such writing is a “response to the paternal symbolic law” which prohibits women from
writing whilst exiling them from their bodies, moving them towards bodily signification of the
unsayable – abject expressions (fluid or vocal) “at the borders of language – neither fully outside it
nor completely within it;”471 an inscription of meaning in, though, and of the body as text. For
Holmes, Angela manifests such ‘writing the body’ through incarnation, imitation, and text/dictation:
465 John Panteleimon Manoussakis, “On the Flesh of the Word,” 307.
468 Emily A. Holmes, Flesh Made Word, 33-4.
469 Emily A. Holmes, Flesh Made Word, 33.
470 Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” trans. by Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen. Signs 1, no. 4 (1976), 879,
https://www.jstor.org/stable/3173239.
471 Emily A. Holmes, Flesh Made Word, 101-2.
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initially, Angela “writes the body” in the gestures of imitatio, yet this “body she is writing is not,
strictly speaking, her own.”472 This imitative inscription is rewarded by Divine presence which in
turn is embodied in speech and writing in the form of her dictated testimony, “a new writing that both
record’s Angela’s imitation of the body of Christ and writes it anew, incarnating it in the text, just as
Angela incarnates the Word in her own body.”473 Thus, for Holmes, Angela’s entire mystical
transformation is defined by writing and incarnation.
This incarnational writing cycle does not lie far from Teresa’s transformation in and of
language. Like Angela, Teresa turns to imitatio in response to her Divine estrangement, and this
recollective practice marks the path towards mystical union: the Word became flesh in order that she
might become one with her God. Yet while her transformation is similarly enacted in both Christ-
image and language, unlike the illiterate Angela, Teresa’s imitatio is fundamentally grounded in
scriptural text. She may inscribe Him within her self, write Him into her body, but as we have seen
this internalisation and identification is inherently rooted in reading and visualisation, in word and
image. Where Holmes envisions Angela’s transformation in writing from start to finish, Teresa
comes to writing much later in her transformation. It is not until the 1560s, at least four years after
her first experience of rapture and as such entry into the sixth moradas that Teresa takes up the
authorial call.474 Thus Teresa’s transformation in/of language, her embodiment of the Word, appears
more tied to reading, to external text. Whilst both she and Angela share a fixation with image, vision,
and impression, for Teresa it is the image-generative power of language that embodies the source and
model of her transformation, and by which she incarnates His Word in the body of her own texts.

474 Teresa’s Vida (her first text) is first drafted in 1562, whilst her first experience of rapture occurs in 1556. See:
Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 133. The exact relationship between the dates of her texts and those of her
mystical transformation will be explored in greater depth in chapter 6.
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There is a similar cyclicality to her transformation, a recursive cycle (or helix) of word and
image: Teresa is transformed through His Word on the page into an image of His Word which in
itself transforms the Word. Teresa ramifies the cord of word-image-image-word within her writing,
using further word-images to communicate her own embodiment of both Christ and Word. This
transformational coil, however, is always already tied to text, to reading and visualisation, to image
and word. Teresa’s transformation cycle in and through text inherently recalls that orig(e)nal search
for the mystical meaning of scripture, drawn through a medieval-esque fascination with word and
image.
Umbilicoil
The structure of this cord of language is starting to emerge, Teresa as soul-image at one end, the
Divine Word at the other. The cord runs from Teresa as soul-image who transforms through the
scriptural word-images and visualisation the Christ Image-Word and then sees that same Christ
Word-Image passively in imaginary visions. She then unites with the Word and becomes transformed
into an imperfect image-Word. Teresa as this new image-Word transforms the Word through the
soul-body and is simultaneously transformed herself, from image-Word to a word, presenting the
experience of this transformation to the reader in word-images.
The structure of the cord however is clearly non-linear, her progress along the cord is not
performed all at once. As Kateřina Kutarňová argues, “the inner dynamism [is] not understood
primarily as a backward-forward movement, but rather, like a strange interplay of movement” in
which the soul moves from stage to stage but may stop at one point and then return to the start.475
475Kateřina Kutarňová, “The Structure of the Soul in St. Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle,” Angelicum 94, no. 2
(2017), 393, https://www.jstor.org/stable/26506518.
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Moreover, whilst Teresa retreats along the cord towards the Divine, once she is transformed her
production of word-images in writing feels like a move in the opposite direction.
To envision the structure of her cord, it would perhaps be effective to appropriate some of Teresa’s
own images:
No havéis de entender estas moradas una en pos de otra como cosa en hilada, sino poned los
ojos en el centro, que es la pieza u palacio a donde está el rey, y considerad como un
palmito, que para llegar a lo que es de comer tiene muchas coberturas, que todo lo sabroso
cercan. 476
Con las boquillas van de sí mesmos hilando la seda y hacen unos capuchillos muy apretados,
adonde se encierran.477
From within the first realm Teresa in-furls her moradas not one after the other but helically coiled
around themselves like a palmito, spiralling as they encircle and move towards the delight of the
centre. Similarly, she later describes the soul’s in-turning within the castle through the image of the
silkworm enclosing itself within its tightly spun cocoon, this silkworm “draw[ing] together image
and Word.”478 Here it is possible to envision that cord as a series of linguistic strands spun together to
form a coiling structure that flows between Teresa and the Divine. The structure is not rigid. Teresa,
476 “These moradas should not be envisioned as one after the other as if they were strung together, rather place
your eyes upon the centre, which is the chamber or palace within which dwells the king, and think of it like the
heart of the palm, the edible part of which is covered by many layers, which encircle that delicious centre.” Teresa
de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 477.
477 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 512. “With their little mouths they weave silk and spin very tight little cocoons,
within which they enclose themselves.”

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like the watery imagery by which she was so transfixed, flows back and forth along the word-image
sequence in her approach to the Beloved;479 He in turn is able to move towards her.
As Teresa flows along the word-image cord, the coil compresses and states of word and
image touch. This “lover’s discourse” flows back and forth, encircling and entangling itself in “a
spiralling cycle of repetitions.”480 In the moments of spiritual embrace the coil becomes so tightly
compressed that all coils overlap: subject touches object, image touches Word, word touches object,
Word touches image. If language emerges from the void between Teresa and her Lord, then here its
natural function is surpassed in union when word, image, and object overlap. At this point Teresa
‘sees’ all that is contained within the words from the Divine, she ‘sees’ the Truth through Him, but
when her spirit returns to the rest of her soul she can no longer ‘see’ behind the word on the same
scale. Scripture is transformed to her as His Word in which she can still ‘see’ the multiplicity of His
meaning but in her words she is shackled to the finite limits of her humanity. This is no discursive
interpretation of scripture, but “una «exegesis existencial», nacida de la experiencia.”481
The link between word and image constitutes both the spiralling cord and the process of
Teresa’s transformation from image, to image-Word and finally to living word. It is possible to
consider that as image-Word and living word, Teresa’s struggle with her own word-images parallels
the human-Divine relationship as one between image (soul) and Word (Logos). Teresa is conscious
of the inadequacy of her own word-images to encapsulate her mystical experience and yet relies on
them as her mode of communication. In their explorations of her imagery, Weber, Kristeva, and
Mujica all touch upon a vital mis-correlation or illusion in her corpus: “there is no one-to-one
479 “Que no me hallo cosa más a propósito para declarar algunas de espíritu que esto de agua; y es - como sé poco
y el ingenio no ayuda y soy tan amiga de este elemento - que le he mirado con más advertencia que otras cosas.”
480 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 18, 400.
481 “An «existential exegesis», born from experience.” Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la
Biblia,” 259.
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correspondence between” sign and signified, between word, image, and referent (sensory)
experience. 482 Her “tides” of word-images impress not any ultimate mystical image that lies behind
her words on the page, but seemingly function in parallel to her own intellectual visions;483 they offer
a way of seeing through Teresa’s lens, a means of coming to an understanding that is “initiated” and
inherently grounded in the visual/textual encounter.484 As she floods her castle with images it appears
almost as if Teresa is once again imitating the Divine, attempting to generate the multiplicity of
meaning behind her castle that she found behind His (W/w)ord.
A nod to the ineffable
Teresa maintains the traditional conception that the Divine Himself is ineffable. Her castle, gardens,
groves, rivers, waves, braziers, and beasts all speak to her experience of perception, they do not seek
to describe the Divine Himself. Although language offers her the vehicle to overcome the void
between her self and His, at times she laments her inability to express in words that which occurs at
the depths of the castle.
Creo fuera mejor no decir nada de las que faltan, pues no se ha de saber decir ni el
entendimiento lo sabe entender ni las comparaciones pueden servir de declararlo, porque
son muy bajas las cosas de la tierra para este fin.485
In her eyes both the transient states of the earlier moradas and her ultimate spiritual marriage are not
possible to put into words as they are experiences of the transcendent Divine. Whilst it may be better
482 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 98. See also: Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 26; Barbara Mujica,
“Beyond Image,” 744.
484 Cate Gunn, “’A recluse atte Norwyche’, 38.
485 “I believe it may be better to say nothing of the moradas I have not yet come to, then it is not necessary to
know how to speak of them nor does the understanding know how to comprehend them nor the comparison
which would serve to speak of them, because earthly things are too lowly to speak of such things.” Teresa de
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to remain silent on the matter, she continuously avails herself of comparaciones through which she
hopes her reader will come to understand her. And yet such comparisons are crude, they never quite
correlate with that of which she seeks to speak.486 Language initially is transportative,
transformational, but once she returns from the embrace of her Beloved and is moved to pick up the
pen, language becomes somewhat problematic.
This linguistic incapacity is not solely an effect following their ultimate mystical matrimony,
but marks points throughout her ascent through the castle.
Si se quiere tomar un libro de romance, persona que le sabía bien leer le acaecía no
entender más de él que si no supiera letra, porque no estava el entendimiento capaz.487
Within the sixth moradas, a site of both spiritual pleasure at her proximity to the Divine and pain at
their continued separation, Teresa speaks of suffering His absence in terms of a state in which she is
rendered incapable of understanding her mother tongue on the page. “Esta tempestad,” a tortuous
turmoil in the mirror image of the Image upon the cross, leaves her so incapacitated that she cannot
even turn to the very foundation of her castle, to the text which offers her some sense of Him.488 She
is not only suffering to the extent that she cannot frame that spiritual pain in words, but this suffering
also deprives her of the reassurance of the textual “threshold.”489 Here language both becomes a
source of suffering and momentarily ceases to offer itself as a vehicle for overcoming that separation.
486 “Deseando estoy acertar a poner una comparación para si pudiese dar a entender algo de esto que voy
diciendo, y creo no la hay que cuadre.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 537-8.
487 “If she took up a book in the vernacular, even though she knew very well how to read, she could not understand
anything of the text as if she did not know the letters, because her understanding was no longer capable.” Teresa
488 “This storm.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 527.
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Furthermore, not only does this linguistic incapacitation increase her pain, but paradoxically here
language is the only cure.
Con una palabra sola suya … lo quita todo tan de presto que parece no huvo nublado en
aquel alma, según queda llena de sol.490
At this point the soul is partially transformed in language, into a state in which it ceases to function
(both in expression and consumption), yet one word from Him and that tortuous cloud lifts and His
radiance once more shines through. These illuminating locutions, however, are not any phrase but
one single word:
Y con una palabra que se le diga sólo: «Yo soy, no hayas miedo», se le quita del todo y
queda consoladísima y pareciéndole que ninguna bastará a hacerla creer otra cosa.491
Teresa hears a single word which contains within (it) an entire phrase that serves to soothe her
suffering soul; she comes to experience a sense of language in which one word contains a world of
unspoken meaning. Here we hear the echoes of the mystical meaning of scripture: Teresa ‘enters
into’ the scriptural text, moving over that threshold and following the Son to the Source; in the
penultimate moments of this process, she comes to experience a multiplicity of meaning behind His
word (on the page). This also reflects the experience of her intellectual vision: just as she comes to
see everything through Him and Him through everything, so she comes to hear a multiplicity of
meaning behind just one of His words. This transformational understanding climaxes in the final
union that follows. Here her relationship to language is transformed insofar as words and images are
490 “With a single word of His … that cloud is removed so quickly that it seems it never was in this soul, as it
remains full of sun.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 527.
491 “And with one word spoken to her «It is I, have no fear», He removes all fear and she so very comforted, and it
seems to her that nothing will ever be enough to make her believe otherwise.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
532.
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no longer required to pass between the two lovers who are now one; the natural function of language
is surpassed.
Teresa’s transformation in language towards a state in which its “saying” function is
surpassed and which she claims to be un-encapsulable in words seemingly points towards a Jamesian
ineffability.492 One could read Teresa and assume that within the apex of her castle she is calling to
an experience ineffably ‘beyond’ language itself. Yet I would ask whether such experience can truly
be ineffable if it is achieved, defined, and ultimately occurs through language?
For Jantzen, James’s ineffability presents a frustrated inarticulacy, a state of silence rendered
by experience of the Divine who exceeds finite human language. 493 It is easy to argue that Teresa
does not fit this bill; while she may be frustrated at the insufficiency of her comparaciones, it would
be misplaced to declare her fluidly fluent accounts inarticulate. She may not declare word for word,
or word for image, precisely what she ‘sees’ within the castle, but given this ‘seeing’ itself is another
layer of comparación, this does not detract from the very affective way she speaks to her reader.
Querría mil vidas para emplearlas todas en Dios y que todas cuantas cosas hay en la tierra
fuesen lenguas para alabarle por ella.494
In perhaps one of her most peculiar word-images, Teresa speaks to the great delight of the unitive
states of the sixth moradas by declaring that she wishes everything in the world were tongues (or
languages) with which she could praise her Beloved.495 Whilst here she does allude to the ineffable
un-sayability of the Divine, this desire for more (from) language does not necessarily represent the
492 “Todo es amor con amor y sus operaciones son limpísimas y tan delicadísimas y suaves, que no hay cómo se
decir.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 520.
493 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 283-4.
494 “She desired a thousand lives so as to use them all for God and that all the many things there are on the Earth
were languages/tongues with which to praise Him.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 539.
495 This depends upon one’s translation of the word ‘lengua’.
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silence of a frustrated attempt to express subjective experience. 496 Through the works of Dionysius
and Augustine, Jantzen outlines how rather than a source of frustration, Divine ineffability is
“intended to bring the reader to a point of silence,” a recognition of His transcendence that in turn
serves as a source of “inexhaustible fecundity.”497 For both authors this transcendence inspires an
abundant experimentation in language: for Augustine, “whatever will draw to wonder and worship,”
for Dionysius “whatever will enable the mind to climb the steps toward intellectual ecstasy.” 498 A
similar sense can be uncovered for Teresa, her desire for more words, more images, more tongues
signifying not a position of speechlessness, but a tangle of word and image which speaks to both her
experience and her method, and constructs a sense of multiplicity behind her own words.
Similarly, Weber argues that for Teresa the experiences of the inner realms of the castle defy
definition, her comparisons “inadequate” in the face of Divine presence. 499 Yet rather than any
floundering or “frustrated speechlessness,” Weber asserts that Teresa’s “failure to find le mot juste”
functions as a fundamental part of her rhetorical strategy. 500 This supposed inarticulacy functions as a
performative ‘unlettered-ness’ in which Teresa the ignorant mujercilla must avail herself of
comparisons in order to speak of her experience. For Weber, these always doomed comparisons
allow the reader to share in Teresa’s own frustration and function to allow her to “explain without
teaching,” thus evading the suppression of her male overseers. 501 Thus, whilst Teresa’s doomed
comparisons may have their root in an always already indescribable Divine, Teresa’s use of them to
construct her castle functions as part of a very real, conscious linguistic strategy. Therefore, we can

500 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 284; Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 105.
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come to envision Teresa supposed ineffability, not as any unsurmountable inarticulacy, but as a
conscious play on and with language that demonstrates its centrality to the mystical process itself.
Summary
This chapter has traced the umbilical path of language coursing through the void between Teresa and
the Divine. This cord not only emblematises her Divine estrangement but provides the path through
which she moves towards Him. Within the walls of her castle, language has the power to re-work and
carve the material of the soul, penetrating from its most intimate depths out into the corporal realm
and vice versa. This transformation is both triggered by and situated within the linguistic cord itself.
The transformative nature of this cord originates in its ability to generate image; its very structure is
woven from the link between word and image. Teresa’s meditation upon the scriptural Word
generates a ‘seeing’ of the language, first actively through visualisation of the Christ image and then
passively in imaginary visions. Yet her sight of language is not visible, but constitutes a non-seeing;
in the highest instance of the intellectual vision, Teresa’s non-seeing sight of the Divine becomes a
seeing through. However, despite this apparent invisibility, these visions and images come to
fundamentally re-form the very material of her soul, re-constructing her self in the image of the
Divine.
This word-image relationship constitutes not only the structure of the cord but is an articulation of
Teresa’s transformation as a soul-image of the Divine. The word-image generative power functions
as a frontier through which Teresa can move beyond the text, her soul-image returning along the cord
through the original Christ Image-Word to become one with the Word itself; and in turn she becomes
transformed through language from soul-image to Christ-like image-Word, finally into a word/sign
for the Divine.
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Teresa’s mystical ascension reveals a transformation of her relationship to language in which she
comes to see through the Divine lens the multiplicity of meaning behind the (W/w)ord. As she floats
textual images past the reader, Teresa imitates her Beloved, ramifying the spiralling cord of language
outwards towards the reader. The lack she feels within language is not any incapacity to speak, but
rather a conscious means of showing the vast landscape of significance which lies beyond the
(W/w)ord on the page.
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Chapter 3: Location, Location, Location: towards a si(gh)te of the soul
Teresa’s mystical ascent through image and word is not solely a transformation in and of that soul.
There are corporeal ramifications to her movement through the castle which climaxes in mystical
matrimony with the Divine; here Teresa becomes a corporeal signifier for the Divine in body and
soul, incarnating Him in active works. However, it is not just this ultimate (corpo)reality of Teresa’s
transformation in which her soul speaks to the body, the word-images of her corpus also contain an
undeniable corporeal flavour. From its immortal incar(cer/n)ation in Bernini’s marble, to its journey
through the crystal castle suffering in symmetry with her Beloved’s Passion, Teresa lays her
embodied self before us at every step. Hers appears not to be a soul isolated or distinctly cleaved
from her body; her mystical transformation translates out through the body, inferring a reciprocity or
proximity in the relationship between body and soul. So how and where does she si(gh)te the soul?
This chapter traces Teresa’s si(gh)ting of the soul through her crystalline castle and the flood
of visceral images to which she refers in her soul’s architectural construction. Through the lens of her
mystical heritage, the image of the castle and her frequent references to sites or intensities within the
body, her soul emerges as a formal entity inherently encrypted within the architecture of her
corporeal form. The relationship between her body and soul is not one of separate components, but
of image and reflection; the castle-as-mirror si(gh)tes her soul within her corporeal interior as a
reflection both of this form and that of the Divine.
In The Mystical Science of the Soul Jessica Boon paints a detailed portrait of this proximity
between body and soul in her study of Bernardino de Laredo. She argues that Laredo’s training as a
galenic physician led to his notion of an embodied soul as medieval theories of cognition held that
the memory was a faculty shared between the soul and the anatomical brain. 502 Laredo’s mode of
502 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 110.
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recogimiento functions under the visionary theory of intromission in which sensory data travels into
the corporeal body in the form of species and makes an impression upon the optic nerve, this
information then flows along the sensus communis and through the ventricles of the brain to become
engraved upon the waxen surface of the memory;503 in Passion meditation the interior eye moves
upon these stored images through mnemonic devices such as his bejewelled crystal palace. 504 The
repetition of these meditative exercises then engenders the possibility for unitive mystical
experiences of the soul. The image making and sculpting parallels with Teresa’s language of
transformation are clear. As with Teresa’s transformation, Laredo’s mystical method is one in, of,
and through both soul and body, vitally interconnected tied through the shared memory.
In her Vida, Teresa acknowledges her methodological mystical debt to Laredo, claiming that
in his no pensar nada she was able to find the only fitting description of her experience of the state of
unitive prayer.505 Furthermore, for Boon Teresa not only inherits this notion of an embodied soul and
a reliance upon Passion meditation, but many of the images upon which Laredo’s mnemotechniques
depend:506 her aquatic comparaciones, the soul like bees in a hive, and her thoughts like a bolting
horse in need of reigning in all find their reflection in Laredo’s thought.507 Even the diamond castle
for which she is most famous finds its foundations in Laredo’s crystalline soul-city of God;508 this in
itself was part of a wider medieval tradition of “locational memory” in which the reader envisions
their embodied self moving through the images carved upon their memory.509 These reflections and

504 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 121-31; Bernardino de Laredo, Subida del Monte Sion, 247.
505 “Mirando libros para ver si sabría decir la oración que tenía, halle en uno que llama «Subida del Mont», en lo
que toca a unión del alma con Dios, todas las señales que yo tenía en aquel no pensar nada, que esta era lo que yo
más decía: que no podía pensar nada cuando tenía aquella oración.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 129.
506 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 173; 110.
507 See: Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 499; 477; Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 311-2.
508 Bernardino de Laredo, Subida del Monte Sion, 247.
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the impressions of her imaginary visions upon her memory could be seen to suggest that Teresa’s
vision of the soul is similarly corporeally entwined.
This chapter argues that Teresa, like Laredo, envisions a soul inextricably entwined
throughout her corporeal form; her mysticism is not a question of a soul released from its corporeal
cage, but a reciprocal transformation of soul and body. In light of her inheritance from Laredo this
chapter demonstrates how Teresa’s process of recogimiento is not simply a means of encountering
the Divine within, but in its first instances mark a si(gh)ting the soul. As an in-furling in-volution
from exterior to interior Teresian recogimiento si(gh)tes her soul within her innermost depths,
retreating through a mesh of body and soul; this soul-si(gh)ting speaks to soul that functions in and
through the body, at an integral, structural and almost cellular level.
A Body of Architecture
Teresa’s first moradas begin with a warning that souls without prayer are paralysed, their fascination
with exterior matters rendering them crippled;510 like Lot’s wife, such souls risk turning to salt if they
do not remedy their condition. Although in an inversion of the biblical image, these souls must turn
within to avoid this saline stagnation which ensued from her (Lot’s wife’s) turn to look back. 511
Apart from this one sculptural reference, there are few references to explicit (human) bodies or
figures within her corpus. She may at times speak to visions of Christ’s humanity and angelic
figures, but she describes her experience in terms of (quasi) corporeal sensory perceptions. 512
Whilst her image of the castle is not overtly corporeal, it is easy to uncover some corporeal
reflections beneath its surface. Its architectural nature inherently belies a sense of the body, a
510 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 474

511 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 474. Here she refers to Genesis 19: 26.
512 The significance of these sensory experiences will be explored in chapter 5.
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corporeal figure to navigate the structure. Furthermore, in her opening passage Teresa immediately
si(gh)tes the soul within the “rough setting” of her body.513
Todo se nos va en la grosería del engaste u cerca de este castillo, que son estos cuerpos.514
Within the form of Teresa’s palatial image her body becomes the setting for the castle, the
topological context within which the soul is constructed. From the outset of Las Moradas the soul is
set in relation to the confines of the corporeal body which functions as the outer-wall of the soul,
“something of a borderline between the castle and its surroundings.”515 Although she identifies the
body as something slightly separate or distinct from the soul, Teresa’s castle includes the body within
its architecture. Kralj underlines this indistinguishability of her relationship between soul and body as
“organically fused” in a structural union.516 The body performs a protective role, separate to an extent
but also sharing in the structure of the soul-castle much like her comparaciones of the hedgehog and
tortoise.517
Mirad que en pocas moradas de este castillo dejan de combatir los demonios. Verdad es que
en algunas tienen fuerzas las guardas para pelear – como creo he dicho que son las
potencias – mas es mucho menester no nos descuidar para entender sus ardides y que no nos
engañe hecho el ángel de luz.518
513 Teresa of Jesus, “Interior Castle,” in The Complete Works of St Teresa of Jesus, trans. E. Allison Peers, vol 2
(London: Sheed & Ward, 1972), 202.
514 “All our concerns lie within the crudeness of this mount or wall of the castle, which is the body.” Teresa de

515 Kateřina Kutarňová, “The Structure of the Soul in St. Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle,” 393.
517 “Paréceme que he leído que como un erizo o tortuga, cuando se retiran hacia sí; y devíalo de entender bien
quien lo escrivió.” Teresa de Jesus, “Las Moradas,” 503.

518 “You see in few realms of this castle do demons cease to fight. It is true that in some of them the guards have
strength to fight them – as I believe I have called the faculties – but it is more important that we are always
conscious of his schemes and that he does not deceive us as an angel of light.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
480.
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The defensive flavour to their relationship is not uncommon within Teresa’s mystical heritage, both
Laredo and Osuna make use of the castle image to illustrate the action of the soul in recogimiento:
whilst Laredo’s bejewelled city may be aesthetically closer to Teresa’s diamond moradas, the
militaristic tone is much stronger in Osuna’s notion of recogimiento as the soul enclosing within
itself and guarding against exterior attack.519 Teresa’s implicit continuation of this tradition infers a
corporeality to her soul through the notion of physical fight or struggle. However, whilst Osuna’s
soul struggles against corporeal temptations, Teresa’s body is constructed as part of the castle aiding
in the turn inwards away from, and defence against, the external world. In the following section we
will see how the castle image illustrates Teresa’s recogimiento as this process of inward turning
through both body and soul. The entire castle experience is encased and performed within reference
to the encircling body. Furthermore, the quasi-corporeal experiences that occur within its walls are in
a sense architectural insofar as they take place within the structural sense of the soul; by extension,
any castle imagery (or imagery within the castle) is itself bodily, insofar as it occurs within or in
relation to soul-body castle.
The body comes to constitute part of the soul’s architecture, external to it but integral in its
function; one emerges from her castle with the sense that Teresa si(gh)tes her soul within the
architectural and anatomical topography of the body. However, this relationship can also be inverted
as the soul also becomes part of the internal architecture of the body. Teresa’s castle is constructed
from seemingly infinite moradas, cell-like dwellings arranged in seven realms encircling the Divine
centre. These cells articulate around one another, above, below and on all sides; one does not move
through them one after the other but navigates their inter-locking concentric pattern through fixing
one’s eyes upon the central destination.520 Teresa erects this structure primarily through reference to
519 Francisco de Osuna, Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 198.

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the castle’s crystalline nature, however as she proceeds through the moradas its cellular architecture
is reinforced by her word-images of bees, serpents, and the tortoise who retreats within its shell.521 In
particular for Anderson, it is Teresa’s apine imagery that speaks to “an incarnational economy” that
belies “the precision of an implicit spatial analogy to the honeycomb structure of a beehive, which is
itself built from the inside out – a sphericity in multiple akin” to the castle and its moradas.522 The
soul who must constantly work at its own humility like the bee making honey in the hive, speaks to a
castle structure produced from its own self, (self-)constructing its interior from and within the body.
Anderson, however, argues Teresa’s words “recall the interiority of the virginal womb,” as
we will see this organ-like specificity goes against a closer reading of Teresa’s imagery. 523 If we
envision this bee imagery in relation to the other hexagonal patterns in her castle (especially her
snakes, serpents, and tortoises) it is perhaps apt to consider the soul as formed in a pattern of
innumerable hexagonal cells (moradas) that self-articulate within the outer wall of her body.
Incar(cer)nated within its protective fleshy shell her soul is protected but also vitally structures her
internal architecture.
If we extend this interpretation further, this cell-like structure is also reflected within Teresa’s
remains on Earth. De Certeau argues that Teresa constructs two “transitory avatars” of her soul-
castle: the book (Las Moradas) and her reform.524 In his mind, both Las Moradas and Teresa’s
reconstruction of her Carmel function as embodiments of the soul-castle structure. When viewed
through his lens, Teresa’s cellular castle structure becomes reflected in the cells of her seventeen
convents, many of which themselves house the remains of her body and textual autographs. Her
pattern of reformed convents almost forms an inversion of her soul-body-castle: the image of the
521 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 477, 479, 503.

522 Mary Margaret Anderson, “Thy word in me,” 340.
523 Mary Margaret Anderson, “Thy word in me,” 340.
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castle is of a corporeal exterior housing myriad cell-like dwelling places; her reformed convents form
a collection of architectural cells which house her corporeal remains.
The si(gh)te of the soul
This si(gh)te of a soul vitally entwined within her body also emerges in Teresa’s transverberation:
No era grande, sino pequeño, hermoso mucho, el rostro tan encendido que parecía de los
ángeles muy subidos que parecen todos se abrasan (deven ser los que llaman cherubines,
que los nombres no me los dicen; mas bien veo que en el cielo hay tanta diferencia de unos
ángeles a otros, y de otros a otros, que no lo sabría decir). Víale en las manos un dardo de
oro largo, y al fin de el hierro me parecía tener un poco de fuego; éste me parecía meter por
el corazón algunas veces y que me llegava a las entrañas. Al sacarle, me parecía las llevava
consigo, y me dejava toda abrasada en amor grande.525
At her side she envisions an angelic figure who insistently plunges a flaming dart into her body; his
tip pierces her heart and repeatedly penetrates deep into her entrails which appear to be drawn out as
he withdraws leaving Teresa wounded and burning with desire.
This visceral image, although undeniably corporeal, is not unusual within Teresa’s mystical
heritage. On the one hand the erotic tone echoes those of Hadewijch and Angela, and their
corporeally visionary interactions with Christ.526 Similarly, Tyler has demonstrated how this account
reveals Teresa’s inheritance of the affective Dionysian tradition, in particular her use of the flaming
525 “He was not large, but small, very beautiful, his face so enflamed that it seemed like that of those highest angels
who appear aflame (they must be those they call cherubims, they do not tell me their names: rather I see clearly
that in heaven there is great difference between some angels and others, which I cannot explain). I saw in his hand
a large golden dart, and at the tip it appeared to me in flames; it seemed that he thrust this into my heart several
times and that it reached my entrails. When he withdrew, it seemed he took them with him and left me utterly
burning with love.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 157-8.
526 For example, see: Hadewijch, The Complete Works, 281; Angela of Foligno, Complete Works, 182.
145
cherubim which was “so essential” for the Victorine interpretation. 527 There is also a common trend
of association between the heart and the soul that emerges in Aristotle and Avicenna and flows down
to Teresa’s textual guide Osuna, who refers to the heart not in a strictly anatomical sense, but as an
interchangeable spiritual monika for the soul.528 From within her moradas Teresa makes repeated
reference to her heart but none so striking as in this transverberation as si(gh)te of her soul-
experience.
Que está el Señor enterneciéndolos y dándolos inspiraciones santas y luz de lo que es todo, y,
en fin, dándolo este reino, poniéndolos en esta oración de quietud.529
However, in her Camino de Perfección she similarly uses the heart with a corporeal tone; in
illustrating how one may love the Spouse through the Paternoster and become transported into the
mystical Prayer of Quiet, Teresa refers to the heart being tenderised for, and by, the Divine. This
image not only infers a sense of the bodily in its alimentary tone, but also in its inference of the heart
as a piece of flesh, a vitally corporeal component of her self. Such corporeality is drawn out by
Kristeva when she asks: “Is it some cavity (vaginal, gastric, pulmonary)? A ceaselessly pulsating
cardiac muscle? Where should the nameless site of self-perception of one’s own insides be located,
when a touch from outside filters through into one’s heart of hearts?”530 Similarly Laredo locates the
search for God within the entrails, even stating that the soul has entrails of its own.531 Kristeva not
only touches upon a sense of reciprocity that will come to prove vital to Teresa’s soul-body, but she
527 Peter Tyler, “Teresa of Avila ’s Picture of the Soul,” 102-3.

528 Osuna liberally uses ‘heart’ in reference to the soul rather than to the body: “Señala David que halló su corazón
para orar en esta oración, especialmente porque para darse el hombre a la oración … ceñir y apretar y encarcelar
el corazón y hacerle una jaula de perpetuo silencio donde lo encerramos para evitar vagueaciones suyas.”
Francisco de Osuna, Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 196.
529 “The Lord is tenderising the soul and giving sacred inspirations and illuminations, and, finally, giving it this
kingdom, placing it in this prayer of quiet.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 368.
531 Bernardino de Laredo, Subida del Monte Sion (Seville: Oficina de Juan Cromberger, 1535), 3: 646.
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highlights the corporeal non-specificity of this si(gh)ting of Teresa’s soul which distinguishes her
from Laredo. Yet like him, Teresa’s transverberation is particularly graphic, performing a soul-
si(gh)te within a visceral depth of her anatomy. There is, however, a vagueness to its exact si(gh)te
within the components of her lived body.
Furthermore, whilst she is clear that her transverberation is an experience in and of the soul,
she does not isolate that si(gh)te of experience from the body.
Era tan grande el dolor que me hacía dar aquellos quejidos, y tan excesiva la suavidad que
me pone este grandísimo dolor … No es dolor corporal sino espiritual, aunque no deja de
participar el cuerpo algo, y aun harto.532
It may be a spiritual pain, but “the body has a share in it - indeed a great share;”533 the excruciatingly
delicious agony Teresa feels at her core is spiritual in origin but burns throughout her being,
enflaming body and soul. Boon underlines how the scholastic view of pain, prevalent throughout the
late Middle Ages, proposed that the relationship between spiritual and physical pain was reciprocal:
spiritual or emotional pain was seen to have somatic effects, whilst physiological pain could also
penetrate the soul.534 Maria Berbara argues that the ‘physicality’ of Teresa’s ecstasy marks her
inheritance of this “strong [Christian] intermingling of body and soul.”535 In Teresa’s mind the
distinction between what is felt in the body and what is felt in the soul is not explicit, the pain of one
532 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 158. (“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so
excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul
be content with anything less than God. It is not bodily pain, but spiritual, though the body has a share in it -
indeed, a great share. So sweet are the colloquies of love which pass between the soul and God that if anyone
thinks I am lying I beseech God, in His goodness, to give him the same experience.” Teresa of Jesus, “The Life of the
Holy Mother Teresa of Jesus,” in The Complete Works of St Teresa of Jesus, trans E. Allison Peers, vol 1 (London:
Sheed & Ward, 1972) 193.)
533 Teresa of Avila, “The Life of the Holy Mother Teresa of Jesus,” 193.
535 Maria Berbara, ““‘Esta pena tan sabrosa’: Teresa of Avila and the Figurative Arts in Early Modern Europe,” in
The Sense of Suffering: Constructions of Physical Pain in Early Modern Culture, eds. Jan Frans van Dijkhuizen and
Karl A. E. Enenkel (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 267-8, https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9789004172470.i-520.
147
cannot be separated from, or spoken of without, the pain of the other. The intense reciprocity of her
transverberation infers a vital and corporeal inter-connection between the soul and body, an
inseparability in which the frontiers between them can become blurred.
This viscerally intertwined soul-si(gh)te is exacerbated by the penetrating action of the
angel's dart. As he pierces her from interior to exterior, his divine action delves (outwards) into her
anatomical depth to instil a burning pain that emanates through the soul into the body. It is even
believed that the wounds of His penetration are visible upon the relic of Teresa’s heart. Yet this sense
of pain and corporeal suffering does not just mark the rapturous climax of her transverberation but
punctuates the broader path of Teresa’s mystical progression, coming to provide the ‘backdrop’ for
her mystical transformation.536 In fact, sickness and suffering are inherently entangled in her
conversion to the practice of recollection:
Aunque fueron los días que estuve pocos, con la fuerza que hacían en mi corazón las
palabras de Dios, ansí leídas como oídas, y la buena compañía, vine a ir entendiendo la
verdad de cuando niña, de que no era todo nada, y la vanidad del mundo … Y aunque no
acabava mi voluntad de inclinarse a ser monja, vi era mijor y más siguro estado.537
Whilst recovering from a great sickness she visits her uncle and is introduced to Osuna’s Tercer
Abecedario and the words of St Jerome.538 These divine words she read and heard during her stay are
so impressed upon her heart that she becomes resigned to profess. Thus, there is a direct connection
between sickness, language and (recollective) practice which speaks to a bodily reciprocity at the
536 Here I paraphrase Kristeva when she argues that the pleasure of Teresa’s mystical transformation and unions “is
felt against the sick body.” Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 221.
537 “Although the days I was there were few, with the force that such words of God were ingrained upon my heart,
both in reading and in hearing, and the good company, I returned to the truth which I knew in childhood, that all is
nothing, and the vanity of the world … And although my will was still not inclined to become a nun, I saw it would
be a greater and far more secure state.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 40.
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foundation of her soulful experience. The accounts of her continuous vomiting, paralyses, and poor
health (poca bien salud) are further reiterated within the walls of her castle in which spiritual
suffering, especially that of the fifth and sixth moradas, marks the path towards the Divine. Here in
the sixth moradas, the soul ‘wounded’ by love for the divine intensely desires to experience His
presence once again.539 The Beloved bestows great trials upon the soul, sending great infirmities
(gran enfermedades) and acute pains (dolores agudos) which serve to compress the interior and
exterior of the soul to the point that it knows not what to do with itself.
Descompone lo interior y esterior, de manera que aprieta un alma que no sabe qué hacer de
si, y de muy buena gana tomaría cualquier martirio de presto que estos dolores.540
Thus, pain not only penetrates from interior to exterior, but divinely inspired suffering compresses
her self both inside and out speaking to a soul vitally and reciprocally connected to her suffering
body. Such corporeal suffering not only functions as a Divine gift but as an ascetic tool for the ascent
to perfection. For example, silently bearing one’s own ailments imitates the Desert Fathers in
abnegation of the indulgence of the body.541 To borrow from Bynum, “body is the expression of soul,
its overflow, the gesture that manifests soul’s intention.”542 For Teresa, the body in pain not only
signifies her soul’s interaction with the Divine, but functions to conform this soul to His will, to
render her self more closely in His likeness. Similarly, Nuria Sanjuan Pastor proposes that Teresa
derives greater spiritual pleasure from such suffering than from the bouts of good health that allow
her to fulfil His will. Whilst her corporeal infirmities may not be as si(gh)te-specific as those
539 “Pues vengamos, con el favor del Espíritu Santo, a hablar en las sestas moradas, adonde el alma ya queda
herida del amor del Esposo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 524.
540 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 526. (“it splits the interior and exterior, as if it were crushing the soul which
knows not what to do with itself, and for great profit it quickly takes whatever martyrdom it can from such pains;”
541 Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 282.
542 Caroline Walker-Bynum, The Resurrection of the Body in Western Christianity, 200-1336 (New York: Zone Books,
1992), 319.
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recorded of stigmatic mystics like Beatrice of Nazareth or Maria de Santo Domingo, “Teresa’s
sickness indicated a deep level of intimacy with God because it transformed an inward feeling and
awareness of pain into outward proof of [H]is favor.”543 Corporeal suffering comes to signify the
transformation at her very corps, speaking to a corporeally entangled soul in reciprocal relation with
the body.
This sensation of reciprocal compression from spiritual interior to corporeal exterior also emerges in
Teresa’s Meditaciones sobre Los Cantares.
Parece que todo el hombre interior y esterior conhorta, como si le echasen en los tuétanos
una unción suavísima, a manera de un gran olor … ni sabemos qué es ni dónde está aquel
olor, sino que nos penetra todos.544
The smooth and sweet devotion of her Prayer of Quiet, one of her first unitive states of the castle,
permeates the very marrow of her bones as if her soul were bathed with the most delicate scent; the
scent is so subtle that she cannot sense its origin, only the sensation as it touches body as soul. Here
her soul and body are so closely interwoven that the sensation passes between them, the emanation
from the Divine at her core radiates outwards until it touches her corporeal realm. To an extent this
could be seen to speak to a shared sense(s) between soul and body, akin to Laredo’s shared
memory.545 Once again, Teresa lays her soul within the very depths of her body, at the very core of
her physical structure. Whereas her site of the transverberation spoke to the soul within her trunk,
through this permeating scen(t)sation Teresa again seems to envision a soul that si(gh)tes itself at the
543 Nuria Sanjuan Pastor, “When Flesh Becomes Word: Teresa of Avila ’s Handwritten Relics,” Hispanofilia, no. 181
(2017), 22, https://doi.org/10.1353/hsf.2017.0042.
544 “It seems as though both the interior and exterior man are comforted, as if there were the softest unction in
the marrow of its bones, like a great scent, … we could not know what or where is this scent, only that it
permeates us entirely.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” in Obras Completas de Santa Teresa
de Jesús, ed. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2018), 450.
545 This will be explored in more detail in chapter 5.
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very corps of her bodily architecture; the marrow of her bones marks the site at which spiritual
sensation of the Divine touches her corporeal body. Rather than appearing in an organ-like si(gh)te,
here Teresa’s soul comes to si(gh)te itself throughout the structural entirety of her body.
It may be possible to envision Teresa’s sit(e)ations of the soul as speaking to a form that is
almost in or of its own body. Laredo similarly constructs a soul with a sense of its own anatomy;
Boon argues that this “embodied soul” shares in the anatomy of the body rather than sustaining an
anatomy of its own, and at times it appears that Teresa’s may follow suit.546 Not only are his interior
eyes the mirror of those of the body down to their pupils, but they are situated within the veins of the
entrails of his soul;547 as well as the eyes and veins, the entrails of Laredo’s soul have an anatomical
structure down to the marrow of their bones.548 Alongside the permeation of the marrow of her
bones, in the same passage Teresa makes explicit reference to the existence of an interior and exterior
form: “parece que todo el hombre interior y exterior conhorta;”549 both her internal and external
forms are touched and consoled by the Divine. As such it does not seem implausible to envision
Teresa’s soul, not in one specific si(gh)te within her bodily interior, but rather as an interior form
throughout her corporeal entirety, one that either shares in the corporeal or has a corporeality in
itself. This is not to say that the soul is corporeal insofar as it would imply a corporeal Divine in
whose image it was made, rather the soul has a locational dimension, a quasi-materiality to its nature;
it takes a form of the (exterior) body, a formal bodiliness. As Hollywood states, “Teresa’s insides

547 “iY no meresciera el pobrete pecador que fueran preciosos vasos las pupilas de los ojos de las venas que están
dentro en las entrañas de mi alma, en los quales se cogeria la sacratísima sangre que corría por el sagrado madero,
sin parar hasta la tierra dende el clavo de los pies de mi amoroso Señor!” Bernardino de Laredo, Subida del Monte
Sion, 2: 281.
548 “[la] Medula de los huessos de las entrañas de la anima,” Bernardino de Laredo, Subida del Monte Sion, 3: 721.
549 Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre las Cantares,” 450. According to Covarrubias’s Tesoro del la lengua
castellana o española (1611), “conhorta” or “conortar” has a similar meaning to the contemporary “confortar”, to
console, soothe or invigorate. See Sebastian de Covarrubias Horozco, Tesoro de la lengua castellana o espanola
(Madrid: por Luis Sanchez, 1611), 232,
https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/Tesoro_de_la_Lengua_Castellana_o_Espa%C3%B1o/K10MJdL7pGIC?hl=
en.
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literally create her interiority.”550 Teresa envisions her soul not just in reference to, but through her
corporeal interiority, thus implying a form that is inherently entwined in a corporeal reflection.
There is also a tangible bodiliness to the re-formation of Teresa’s soul. The previous chapter
traced the transformation of her soul, itself an image of the Divine, into an ever more perfect Image
of the Word in and through the model of the Word-made-Flesh.
Yo solo podía pensar en Cristo como hombre.551
Teresa’s relationship to Christ is inherently bodily, not only insofar as it is most often His Humanity
who comes to her in imaginary visions and impresses His form upon her soul, but also in the
foundation of her recollective practice: it is only Christ the Man she can envision within her self.
Furthermore, as Boon highlights, this quasi-bodily relation is not only visually corporeal, but “she
imagines herself interacting directly with the divine by wiping the bloody sweat of Jesus’s brow.” 552
The form of the Divine who re-shapes her self in His image is the Man in the flesh, the original
(corpo)reality of the Divine.
Ya havréis oído sus maravillas en cómo se cría la seda, … cómo de una simiente que es a
manera de granos de pimienta pequeños … con el calor, en comenzando a haver hoja en los
morales, comienza esta simiente a vivir; … y con hojas de moral se crían, hasta que después
de grandes les ponen unas ramillas, y allí con las boquillas van de sí mesmos hilando la seda

551 “I could only think of Christ as a man.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 64.
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y hacen unos capuchillos muy apretados, adonde se encierran; y acaba esta gusano, que es
grande y feo, y sale del mesmo capucho una mariposica blana muy graciosa.553
For Howells and Anderson, the Christological nature of this re-shaping of the soul is most evident
within Teresa’s image of the soul as a silkworm spinning its cocoon within which to die and be
reborn as the butterfly of the spirit. For Anderson, the construction of this “corporeal cloister”
functions against the “measure” of the body, echoing the sense within Kristeva of the body in pain as
the backdrop against which spiritual pleasure is felt.554 Similarly, Howells’s trinitarian focus
proposes that this self-incarceration speaks to how the soul becomes Christ-like through their shared
humanity through “working to die with Christ;”555 from this death in Him, the soul can be re-born in
union with the Divine in the mirror of the Divine union between Father and Son.556 Yet not only does
this image imply a soul-full corporeality in its Christological nature, but through that sense of death
and re-birth, of bodily consumption and production. The worm enshrines itself within a tomb spun
from the mouth, an enclosing shroud made in its own image from its own body. As such, if one looks
at her silkworm through Christ’s mirror image, one could come to see the measure of Teresa’s soul
not only in Christ’s flesh but in her own. Her soul’s transformation is measured by the bodily form of
her Beloved at one end, and her own corporeal cerca of the castle.
Manda el Esposo cerrar las puertas de las moradas, y aun las del castillo y cerca, en
quiriendo arrebatar esta alma, se le quita el huelgo, de manera que, aunque dure un poquito
más algunas veces los otros sentidos, en ninguna manera puede hablar, aunque otras veces
553 “Now you have heard of His miracles in the creation of silk … how from a seed which is like a small grain of
pepper… with heat, amongst the mulberry leaves, this seed begins to live; … and from mulberry leaves they grow,
until once they are large they are placed upon branches, and there with their little mouths they weave silk and spin
very tight little cocoons, within which they enclose themselves; and this worm then dies, which is large and ugly,
and an elegant white butterfly emerges from that same cocoon.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 512.
554 Mary Margaret Anderson, “Thy Word in Me,” 350; Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 221.
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todo se quita de presto, y se enfrían las manos y el cuerpo de manera que no parece tiene
alma, ni se entiende algunas veces si echa el huelgo.557
This sense of mortality also emerges within the sixth moradas in direct reference to Teresa’s lived
body. Here she describes a state in which soul is so intensely drawn into the interior by the Divine
that she cannot speak, her body and hands turn cold, her breathing slows, and it appears as though
she had no soul at all. Such a withdrawal occurs as the Divine orders the doors to the moradas to be
closed, even those to the castle and its outer corporeal perimeter. As such this rapturous instance
involves the body; much like her transverberation here “the body has a share in it.”558 Once again
Teresa’s body comes to demarcate the transformation of the soul, offering a tangible reciprocal
expression of her interiority that implies not only a vital soul-body connection, but one that courses
throughout her entire corpus.559
For Sanjuan Pastor, these corporeal ramifications offer her body in pain as a “complex
semiotic artefact.”560 Not only do such phenomena indicate the “deep level of intimacy” she
experiences with the Divine – both to her self and others - but such imagery “invites the sensory
imagination to access a physical body that is unlike any other… [and which] becomes a new signifier
that bears the mark of her mystical union with Christ.”561 Whilst, I would argue Teresa only
experiences union with Christ in parallel, Sanjuan Pastor marks an important point. In text, Teresa’s
557 “The Spouse orders the doors of the moradas to be closed, and even those of the castle and its walls, in desiring
to snatch this soul, He takes its breath away, just as if, although it lasts only a little longer than the other senses, in
no manner can it speak, although at other times all is taken so quickly, and the hands and body cool as if there
were no soul within, nor is it clear whether it still breaths.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 539.
558 Teresa of Avila, “The Life of the Holy Mother Teresa of Jesus,” 193.
559 There is an interesting parallel her between Teresa’s account of this exterior manifestations of her interior
experience, and Hollywood’s exploration of the tension between the representation of interior and exterior signs
of sanctification in the writings and hagiography of Beatrice of Nazareth. Writing of her own experience, Teresa
resembles Beatrice’s hagiographer who insists on an external visible reality to her interior mystical suffering. See:
Amy Hollywood, “Inside Out: Beatrice of Nazareth and her Hagiographers,” 91.
560 Nuria Sanjuan Pastor, “When Flesh Becomes Word,” 22.
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suffering body signifies the transforming state of her soul, referring to its progressively intensifying
union with the Divine. Rather than offering any particular visual si(gh)te of Divine interaction with
the female body, by her own hand she offers a tangible image to her readers and speaks to a deep
soul-body reciprocity; to borrow from Tyler, such sensory imagery ‘shows’ rather than ‘says’ the
extent and experience of her transformation.562 As such, it is possible to envision her soul so
inherently tied to the body that the corporeal comes to bear some level of function within her
mystical transformation. This soul has an anatomy like a mirror, reflecting the architecture of both
her own bodily perimeter and the Divine Image in which she was made. Within this corporeally
reflective soul-body inter-relation, her sweet unctions, penetrating wounds, and cooling regressions
ramify from her innermost corps outwards through the marrow of her soul’s bones and come to
permeate her corporeal body.
To some extent, this soul-body mirroring would reflect the vision of her scholastic notion of
the soul as ““tota in toto corpore et tota in qualibet parte.””563 Whilst she may make only one
explicit reference to the location of the soul in the castle, it could be possible to read her soul-
si(gh)ting through this notion of a soul whole throughout the body and whole throughout its parts
with particular seats or intensities:
Muchos pajarillos y silbos, y no en los oídos, sino en lo superior de la cabeza, adonde dicen
que está lo superior del alma. Y yo estuve en esto harto tiempo, por parecer que el
movimiento grande del espíritu hacia arriba subía con velocidad.
562Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 284.

563William of Ockham, Opera Theologica (New York: St Bonaventure) 10: 114. This view, coined as ‘holenmerism’
by Henry More in the seventeenth century, considers the soul “spread out in an unstructured, partless way, so that
the whole substance occupies not just the whole of its place, but also each and every part of that place. This is how
immaterial entities (the human soul, angels, God) were standardly thought to exist during our period, and it was
commonly agreed that such things are not extended, inasmuch as they lack partem extra partem.” Robert Pasnau,
Metaphysical Themes 1274-1671 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 296,
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Plega à Dios que se me acuerde en las moradas de adelante decir la causa de esto,
que aquí no viene bien.564
Here she cries that her ability to write of these moradas is impeded by the sensation of “brimming
rivers … rushing downwards” and “host of little birds ... whistling” inside the top part of her head.565
Whilst this comment occurs within the fourth moradas, Teresa appears to suggest that such
‘whooshing’ belongs within the later stages of the castle. It is not the whole soul of which she is
speaking, rather ‘the highest part’ (lo superior), the spirit, which is said to be located in the head. It is
possible that she drew such a location from Ludolph’s Vita Christi which states: “just as the soul is
present in the whole body, but is thought to be more intensely concentrated in the heart, or, as others
say, in the head, because its more noble operations seem to emanate from these two parts of the
body.”566 Whilst Teresa may seem almost hesitant to explicitly ground her soul ‘where they say it is’
(adonde dicen que está), one could envision such a statement as a kind of performative ignorance or
‘un-letteredness,’ part of Weber’s ‘rhetoric of femininity.’ Yet it may also correlate to the
entanglement of body and soul. Like Laredo she speaks to recogimiento as involving a process of
engraving images upon the memory, though her emphasis lies with the impression of imaginary
visions, rather than Laredo’s images in Passion meditation. Furthermore, within her mystical corpus
Teresa often speaks to the gift of tears, a corporeal manifestation of her transformation in relation to
the spirit’s si(gh)te in the head.
564 “Many birds and noises, and not in my ears, but in the upper part of my head, where they say that superior part
of the soul is. And I felt like this a great time, for it seemed like my spirit had been greatly swept up above at
speed. I beg God that in the moradas of which I will speak later I remember the cause of this, because it does not
fit well here.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 498.
565 Teresa of Jesus, “Interior Castle,” 2: 234.
566 Ludolph of Saxony, The Life of Jesus Christ: Part One, Volume 1, chapter 37.
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Estos dos pilones se hinchen de agua de diferentes maneras; el uno viene de más lejos por
muchos arcaduces y artificio; el otro está hecho en el mesmo nacimiento del agua y vase
hinchendo sin nengún ruido.567
From within the same moradas Teresa demonstrates the experience of the Prayer of Quiet through
the comparación of two basins filling with water: one, filled slowly and strenuously through many
devices, speaks to the consolations (contentos) actively acquired by the soul in discursive mediation
which generates noise as the waters are drawn by our faculties;568 the other fills smoothly and silently
as it is built at the source of the divine water and mirrors the passive reception of spiritual blessings
(gustos) from the Divine in the Prayer of Quiet.569 Howells uses the combination of these dual founts
and the ‘superior’ part of the soul in order to argue for a division within Teresa’s soul between
interior and exterior (superior) parts. The two founts and the spiritual gifts they bring flow into “two
distinct parts of the soul,” the exterior trough bringing contentos causes that whooshing ‘noise’ in the
soul due to its human effort, whereas the Divine flow of gustos brings with them sweet peace. 570 In
the following chapter I examine Howells’s divided vision of the soul in further detail, and argue that
in fact this ‘superior’ part of the soul is, for Teresa, the most intimate part, the spirit. Here, I seek to
use the Teresian sources upon which Howells founds his argument to uncover how the ‘superior’ part
of the soul speaks to the soul’s quasi-corporeal nature. This unity or reciprocity of the exterior realm
567 “The two basins fill with water by different means: in one the water comes from afar through many pipes and
devices; the other is built at the very source of the water and it fills itself without any noise.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 500.
568 “los contentos que tengo dicho que se sacan con la meditación, porque los traemos con los pensamientos
ayudándonos de las criaturas en la meditación y cansando el entendimiento; y como viene, en fin, con nuestras
diligencias, hace ruido cuando ha de haver algún hinchimiento de provechos que hace en el alma, como queda
dicho.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 500.
570 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 102-3.
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of the soul (the body) may call into question Howells’s notion of a Teresian “anthropology of
division.”571
Howells’s argument hinges upon a sense of progression from Teresa’s Vida to her Las
Moradas in terms of her understanding of the role of the body in mystical union. Her Vida, the first
of her texts written before her experience of the mystical marriage, depicts ecstatic flights of the soul
as the climax of her mystical path. Here she marks the apex of her ascent to the Divine in experiences
in which it seems as though the soul has left its body.572 Here Howells draws upon Teresa’s image of
ecstasy in which it is as if the soul has left itself and comes to stand upon its own roof.
«Vigilavi, ed fatus sun sicud passer solitarius yn tecto»; y ansí se me representa este verso
entonces que me parece lo veo yo en mí, y consuélame ver que han sentido otras personas
tan gran estremo de soledad, cuantimás tales. Ansí parece que está el alma no en sí, sino en
el tejado u techo de sí mesma y de todo lo criado; porque aun encima de lo muy superior del
alma me parece que está.573
In contrast, Las Moradas, written nearly a decade later, proposes a more “mature” vision of union in
which the body comes to take a principal role.574 In the union of mystical marriage, when the soul
comes to embody His Word, here Teresa combines the active and contemplative strands as the soul
must perform external works.575 These good works are no longer seen as the fruit of their union
572 “El cómo es ésta que llaman unión y lo que es, yo no lo sé dar a entender. En la mística teología se declara, que
yo los vocablos no sabré nombrarlos, ni sé entender qué es mente, ni que diferencia tenga del alma u espíritu
tampoco; todo me parece una cosa, bien que el alma alguna vez sale de sí mesma, a manera de un fuego que está
ardiendo y hecho llama, y algunas veces crece este fuego con ímpetu; esta llama sube muy arriba del fuego, más
no por eso es cosa diferente, si no la mesma llama que está en el fuego.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 99.
573 “«Vigilavi et factus sum sicut passer solitarius in tecto»; and this is how this verse appears to me and how I see
it within myself, and it comforts me to see that others have felt such extreme loneliness, how many more. So it
seems that the soul is not in itself, but on the ceiling or roof of itself and of all that is made; because its appears to
me to be above even the very superior part of the soul.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 111. Here Teresa
refers to Psalm 101.8.
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divorced from the consummation itself but are now considered “the immediate product of ‘loving
expressions’ between the soul and God.”576
Whilst Howells is by no means wrong in his perception of this development, there is a crack
in his use of the above image from her Vida. Whilst Teresa’s soul may have changed position in
relation to it self, flown above itself in rapture to stand on its own rooftop, it is still fundamentally
connected to its own architecture, it still maintains a tangible relation to the building (which would
later become the castle) that houses the soul. As such, even in her Vida, it is possible to uncover the
foundations of her more corporeal developments. 577 Although Howells alludes to Teresa’s
dissatisfaction with this image of supposed body-soul division, he overlooks the ramifications of her
imagery.
To some extent, the same can be said of his interpretation of the two basins image. Whilst it
may speak to a sense of division within the soul, it also inherently implies a reciprocity between soul
and body.
Que ansí parece que como comienza a producir aquella agua celestial de este manantial que
digo de lo profundo de nosotros, parece que se va dilatando y ensanchando todo nuestro
576 Bernard McGinn, “‘One word will contain within itself a thousand mysteries’,” 23; Edward Howells, “John of the
Cross and Teresa of Avila , 89.
577 There is a pattern within Howells’s argument of employing Teresa’s imagery without fully exploring its
significance in relation to other of her images. A further example could be: in examining the first realm of Teresa’s
soul-castle, “the room of self-knowledge,” and the initial stages of her dynamic relation to the Divine, Howells
picks upon Teresa’s image of the soul turned into a statue of salt. Souls who fail to practice active prayer fall into
the trap of a death of faith and become paralysed, or, as Howells emphasises, static in their search for God. When
viewed in conjunction with other of her mystical images however, in particular the garden imagery of the first
moradas, there is another layer of significance to be uncovered. Within the context of the garden of her soul
nourished and fertilised by the flow of Divine water, such salt statues not only speak to stasis, but to infertility, to
spiritual aridity and a death of growth resulting from salting the earth. See: Edward Howells, “John of the Cross and
Teresa of Avila, 97; Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 474-5. A similar pattern is also evident in Robert Kralj’s
argument concerning the distinction between Teresa’s soul and spirit, which will be further examined in the
following chapter.
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interior y produciendo unos bienes que no se pueden decir, ni aun el alma sabe entender qué
es los que se la da allí.578
The exponential celestial flow overflows the second basin and causes her soul to swell within her
interior; as His blessing courses through each realm of the castle it dilates the soul until it can flow no
further, until it touches the concrete outer wall of the body.
Vase revertiendo estes agua por todas las moradas y potencias hasta llegar a el cuerpo, que
por eso dije que comienza en Dios y acaba en nosotros … todo el hombre esterior goza de
este gusto y suavidad.579
Teresa’s basin overflows to the extent that the Divine water surpasses the soul’s formal limits,
breaking through into the external corporeal realm. Elizabeth Knuth argues that these “gustos de
Dios” manifest in tears which “are the psychological and sometimes physical ‘overflow’ which
follows God’s activity at a very deep level within the human person.”580 Such watery delight floods
the soul, causing it to dilate until it breaches the corporeal perimeter and flows down Teresa's face.
Not only does Teresa once again refer to the interior and exterior (hu)man delighting in this
experience, but the frontier between them appears flexible. Through this aquatic comparación the
si(gh)te of the soul seems able to expand, overflow and even overlap into its more concrete corporeal
counterpart; the overflow of celestial tears suggests a frontier or boundary between Teresa’s interior
and exterior bodies, one that is both flexible and transgressable.
578 “So it seems that as it begins to produce this celestial water from this source which I say is in the depths of
ourselves, it seems to dilate and expand all our interior and produce some blessings which cannot be spoken, nor
does the soul even understand what is given to it there.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 500.
579 “This water begins to overflow through the moradas and faculties until it arrives at the body, and for this it is
said to begin in God and end in ourself … the entire exterior man delights in this taste and sweetness.” Teresa de
580 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 499; Elizabeth Knuth, “The Gift Tears in Teresa of Avila,” Mystics Quarterly 20,
no. 4 (December 1994), 138, https://www.jstor.org/stable/20717226.
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This permeability between interior and exterior bodies could perhaps explain the medieval
view of the reciprocal nature between spiritual and corporeal pain. If Teresa’s soul lies within the
mirror of her corporeal form, separated by a permeable interface, it may be possible for them to share
dual anatomical si(gh)tes. As Kutarňová argues, Teresa’s heart “may be considered as standing on
the verge or border line between the outer and inner life.”581 Within her transverberation, the entrails
of her soul can be pierced by that angelic dart and be penetrated to the extent that the tip transgresses
into her corporeal entrails, leaving both body and soul aflame. Thus, Teresa’s soul and body appear
to nestle one within the (O)other, Russian dolls separated by an intangible gap but sharing in si(gh)te
and form.
Similarly, such a shared soul-si(gh)te may also be revealed by the medieval notion of the
memory as shared faculty between the soul and the physical brain. The cognitive theories of
intromission and extramission were widely recognised in late medieval Castille and as such it is not
inconceivable that Teresa may have been aware of such concepts.582 Boon argues that for Laredo,
Passion meditation was a process of “image making,” casting the (interior) eye over the memory and
performing imaginative visualisation.583 Laredo develops this cognitive theory to the extent that as
the interior eye of the devotee becomes one with the viewed object, so the embodied soul becomes
one with sight and site of Christ’s Passion.584 His transformation occurs, not through sight of image
and (W/w)ord like Teresa, but through, in, and as the image of Christ’s corporeal suffering. If we
extend Laredo’s embodied transformative si(gh)te as a lens through which to consider Teresa’s dual
bodies, it could be possible that the memory may mark another si(gh)te at which the interior and
581 Kateřina Kutarňová, “The Structure of the Soul in St. Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle,” 402.
583 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 151. Boon’s reference here to “image making” cites Peter
Parshall, “The Art of Memory and the Passion,” The Art Bulletin 81, no. 3 (1999), 466, https://doi-
org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.2307/3051352.
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exterior body overlap; the act of intromissive sight simultaneously engraves upon body and soul
through the shared memory, penetrating from exterior to interior.
Therefore, whilst Teresa may reflect the graphic corporeality of Laredo’s soul, I do not wish
to place her directly in his footsteps. She shares his anatomy in places but it is far vaguer, more
entangled, less explicit in her physiological detail. In Teresa’s eyes it is an embodied soul, one vitally
entwined with the form of the corporeal body, but one that has of itself a corporeality or a sense of
body in mirror of the external; she si(gh)tes her soul deep within her external self, tracing her
external form and encrypted within its anatomy, but there lies a transgressable frontier between them.
Recogimiento as si(gh)ting the Soul
The diamond nature of her soul-castle further intensifies this corporeality through the movement it
engenders; Teresa’s practice of recogimiento arguably depicts a mystical path that must be followed
through both soul and body. Boon argues that in the context of sixteenth-century Castille,
recogimiento was an embodied action; in particular Passion meditation relied upon a corporeality of
the soul to impress upon the devotee images of divine suffering and transform their interior into the
Holy Landscape. 585 Recogimiento, for Teresa, Laredo and Osuna, is a transformational search for the
Divine that resides deep within one’s self, a process of turning from the exterior to the interior to
locate Him within the soul. Therefore, in its initial incarnation recogimiento is also an active search
for the soul, a process of si(gh)ting the soul within one's being-as-human. For Teresa it is the
structure of the castle that facilitates this in-turning identification.
585“[Laredo calls the readers to] imagine their own bodies as the Holy Land … envision the Passion transcribed
onto their own souls and bodies. The mystic should imagine his or her own heart as the column to which Jesus is
tied under torture, receiving the tail end of the whip. Alternatively, Laredo recommends that the mystic’s heart
become the material base of the cross, inundated with the blood dripping from Christ’s wounds. Laredo’s focus on
the heart, often à synonym for the soul, as the physical site of the torture and crucifixion of Christ is thus at once
both thoroughly bodily and thoroughly interior.” Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 81.
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Within her castle there is a tension between its architectural structure and the bodily interior
with which it is so closely entwined.586 Although this can make envisioning their co-relation more
challenging, such tension is vital in establishing the corporeality of Teresa’s soul. If the Divine
resides at the deepest part of the soul, one must first locate and enter one’s own self for the very
possibility of union to occur. In Teresa’s mind one must turn within oneself, encounter the castle and
enter it through the doors of prayer and meditation in order to begin the mystical journey. 587 The
body not only demarcates that sense of interiority, but, as Anderson highlights, it offers the vehicle
through which prayer and meditation are performed.588 Reading, prayer, and meditation all require an
embodied anatomy through which to be undertaken and a Christological body in relation to which
they can be performed. It is that taught relation between body and architecture that “reinscribe[s] a
subjectivizing interiority, an inward turning of the soul.”589 The castle offers a means of
(re)constructing her interior, the practice of which cannot be performed without the body.
Through the movement of the soul through itself as the castle Teresa continues to speak to a
corporeality of her soul; in recogimiento she is both the mystical pilgrim and the architectural
landscape through which she travels.
Y como a nuestro parecer siempre andamos y nos cansamos - porque creed que es un camino
brumador.590
Her architecture of the soul allows Teresa to visualise the in-furling movement of her transformation
as a journey, a pilgrimage in which the soul walks (andar) through herself as the castle. As an
586 I have previously explored this tension in my Master of Research thesis. See: Harri Hudspith, “How do you solve
a problem like Teresa?,” Master of Research diss., (Royal College of Art, 2018).
590 “And as it seems to us we are always walking and becoming tired – because believe me it is an overwhelming
path.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 492.
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architectural vehicle Teresa’s castle calls to the body by inciting readers to place themselves within
the structure as a moving corporeal form, to envision their selves following her footsteps. This notion
of transformation as pilgrimage infers an inherently corporeal quality to the experience. 591 She speaks
of it as a “camino brumador,” a tiresome and overwhelming journey, one that takes a toll on both the
interior and exterior self.592 Whilst she may at times speak of the urge to fly off to higher realms of
the castle, Anderson argues this again reinforces the corporeality of her pilgrim’s progress. 593 The
urge to fly does not signify a sense of leaving the body, but rather functions as an incarnate
movement, one that speaks to speed and a desire to cross the void quickly, which “instructs the
integration of soul and body, spirit and flesh.”594 As such, like its militaristic tone, the image of
pilgrimage speaks to an embodied soul through a sense of movement and physiological strain.
In her brief examination of the taste of Laredo within Teresian mysticism, Boon underlines
how within her castle, Teresa’s “soul is described by, yet roams within, the mnemonic device,
thereby functioning as an imagines agente providing the requisite movement (ductus).”595 Through
the corporeality of the image Teresa’s castle engenders movement, an in-furling procession forwards
and inwards that is essential to the search for mystical union. Boon’s analysis focuses upon the
movement of the soul through the castle as the internal eye performs the “image making” of
meditation from the remembered images stored in the wax of the memory.596 Yet, as well as
facilitating the movement of the soul through itself, there is another facet to the castle movement.
591 This is nothing new, but a rather traditional allegory for the mystic journey through the soul. The soul as pilgrim
journeying through itself runs through the traditional literature of theologia mystica and emerges in key texts that
influenced Teresa’s practice such as Osuna’s Tercero Abecedario Espiritual. For example, see: Fracisco de Osuna,
Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 137.
593 “Y ansí torno a decir que es muy bueno y muy rebueno tartar de entrar primero en el aposento adonde se trata
de esto, que volar a los demás; porque éste es el camino, y si podemos ir por lo seguro y llano, ¿para qué hemos
de querer alas para volar?, mas que busque cómo aprovechar más en esto.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 478.
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Pues tornando a nuestro hermoso y deleitoso castillo, hemos de ver cómo podremos entrar
en él. Parece que digo algún disparate; porque si este castillo es el ánima claro está que no
hay para qué entrar, pues se es él mismo; como parecería desatino decir a uno que entrase
en una pieza estando ya dentro. - Mas habéis de entender que va mucho de estar a estar.597
Although she recognises the apparent nonsense of simultaneously constituting the structure of the
soul and inhabiting it, Teresa’s castle casts her out into the ecstatic before she has even encountered
the Divine. To enter the first moradas through the doors of prayer and meditation, Teresa is
automatically exiled into standing outside her self.598 In other words, Teresa must first provoke her
own ek-static position in order to encounter the castle from which He may sweep her up into divine
ecstasy: through the first stages of recogimiento she actively casts her self out, stands horizontally
ek-static of her soul through which she then begins her in-furling as a means of being passively
snatched up into vertical ecstasy from above. Teresa’s movement along the coiled cord is inherently
cyclical, a retreat from exterior to interior that begins and ends in ecstasy. For clarity however, it will
be easier to refer to this first instance as ek-stasis to avoid confusion with divine ecstasy.
In these very first recollective instances Teresa stands somehow in limbo between the bodily
engaste and the doors to the first moradas. However the castle structure upon which she sets her
interior si(gh)te, is not a stone fortress, rather it is a crystalline architectural reflection, refracting the
light of the Divine Sun set within its centre. 599 This diamond nature speaks to the soul’s position as a
reflection of the Divine, a mirror-image made in His likeness: “A living mirror, thus, I am (to) your
resemblance as you are to mine.”600 For Anderson, this “circumferential interiority of the castle”
597 “So turning to our beautiful and delightful castle, we must see how we can enter into it. It seems as though I am
speaking nonsense; because if this castle is the soul clearly we need not enter it, as it is our self; as it would seem
madness to tell someone to enter a room when they were already in it. – Rather you must understand there are
many ways of being within it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 473.
599 “La luz que sale del palacio donde está el Rey.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 479.
600 Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,” 197.
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speaks to the reciprocity of Teresa’s later ecstasy in which she enters Him and He her.601 Yet this
reciprocity is also sensible at this earlier point of ek-stasis through the soul’s reflective nature. Is her
first ek-stasis not always already a si(gh)te of the Divine potential in the image of her self?
Hollywood emphasises how the mystical subject is both constituted and (re-)split in the sight
of Christ; in parallel to the way in which the subject is formed, in Lacanian eyes, through the splitting
glimpse of itself as other in the mirror imago, the mystic subject is re-split in the image of Christ as
the mirror of itself.602 In a specifically Teresian manner, Anderson echoes this mirror-split, arguing
that Teresa’s Prayer of Union in the fifth moradas, the origin of the cocoon image, can be envisioned
as “a doubleness or split,” a “subjectivity cleaved in and by the Word.”603 Our mystic is split twice
over, once in infancy and again along the path of her mystical ascension.
Yet if Teresa ek-statically si(gh)tes her castle from within the first steps of her pilgrimage,
does another (re-)splitting not occur in this si(gh)te of the castle? Even before she has ‘seen’ the
Christ imago in imaginary visions, she ‘sees’ her self as a reflective structure or form of divine
mirror other than the self she inhabits at that moment. The architecture of her soul not only allows
her to stand outside her self in the in-between space of soul and body, but it performs an imago of
herself, it re-splits her mystic subjectivity only for it to be split once again when she encounters the
Christological imago. Yet this initial splitting is similarly performed through the original Image of
the Word Himself, that “mirror for humility” who symbolises that unitive split between human and
Divine.604 Just as the light of the Father emanating from the central moradas is refracted through the
castle, so Teresa is split and fragmented through the reflection of the Son/Sun, a deconstruction from

602 Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy, 157, 203.
603 Mary Margaret Anderson, “Thy Word in Me,” 332-3.
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and through which she can then be re-made in His image. The si(gh)te of her self-as-Him splits her
open and Teresa enters her soul through her own split image.
Can Teresa’s transformation then be envisioned as a process of concentric splittings, of
fragmentation and deconstruction? Must she be broken down, whittled, split and “cut to the quick”
before He will sweep her up into His self?605 One could take this two ways in terms of Teresa’s
transformation through word and image: firstly, her repeated splittings could be indicative of
recogimiento as a process of transformation through deconstruction and reconstruction, one in which
she is broken down only to be re-built. Osuna’s conception of recogimiento speaks to the image of a
broken vessel which must be repaired and reconstructed in order to be filled with God’s grace.606 As
such one could envision Teresa’s transformation as one in which she is fragmented and reconstructed
in her ascent toward her Beloved. Alternatively, recogimiento could be a process of shedding; as
Teresa retreats into the architecture of her being she is reduced to smaller and smaller parts,
repeatedly split until only the spirit, that highest (or deepest) part of the soul remains. We will come
to this point again when exploring the structure of her soul, for now it is enough to acknowledge that
her soul-si(gh)ting in recogimiento may transform both the soul’s form and its relation to the body.
Hollywood’s analysis centres upon Luce Irigaray’s La Mysterique, an imitative exploration
of mystic(al) discourse that in many ways feels very close to Teresa’s style of address, particularly
with the tone of her transverberation; Irigaray plays upon mystical eroticism and the graphic
corporeality to si(gh)te the soul within a visceral depth at that most “intimate” and “cryptic” point of
her being,607 a si(gh)te that is entered through the slit in her self. 608 On the surface her entry through

606 Francisco de Osuna, Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 134, 212.
607 “The bottom, the centre, the most hidden, inner place, the heart of the crypt to which “God” alone descends
when he has renounced modes and attributes.” Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,”196.
608 “And to know myself I scarcely need a “soul,” I have only to gaze upon the gaping space in your loving body. Any
other instrument, any hint, even, of theory, pulls me away from myself by pulling open - and sewing up -
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the slit and Irigaray’s heightened erotic tone infers a sexuality to the soul, a soul si(gh)ted through
her lower lips; when considered in light of the rest of Teresa’s soul-si(gh)ting, this feels too explicit,
too anatomically singular. However, when considered in the light of the multiplicity of Irigaray’s
‘feminine,’ her play on the two lips in the rest of her corpus, her labial soul-si(gh)te does not
necessarily imply such a si(gh)te-explicit location: “anatomical reference is never an unmediated
reflection.”609 Whilst her erotic tone overpowers Teresa’s, there is hint of plurality here, a
multiplicity of si(gh)tes that parallels the simultaneous encapsulation of “inside and outside,
singularity and multiplicity” by the castle.610 Irigaray’s depth and intensely bodily sense again speaks
to a soul deep within her interior abyss, viscerally entwined in their (shared) crypt; a crypt entered
through more than one set of lips. Furthermore, Irigaray’s lips may prove effective when we come to
envision Teresa’s mode of interaction with the linguistic cord, how and where her textual
consumption takes place.611
Irigaray’s multiplicitous soul-si(gh)te is perhaps limited, however, by her notion of the depth
of the soul as “cryptic.”612 Whilst it infers an intense corporeal depth, Irigaray’s crypt speaks to a
soul buried deep within the body like a vital organ which does not quite correlate with Teresa’s
construction of her soul’s interior form. Irigaray’s crypt si(gh)tes the soul within too explicit a locus;
the sensation touches Teresa but her end destination is too prescriptive. As we have seen, Teresa’s
soul lies entangled and almost tangible throughout the entirety of her human form, not buried at a
singular si(gh)te within her anatomy: it does not lie within her burning heart nor her pierced entrails.
unnaturally the lips of that slit where I recognize myself, by touching myself there (almost) directly.” Luce Irigaray,
“La Mystérique,” 200.
609 Margaret Whitford, “Irigaray’s Body Symbolic,” Hypatia 6, no. 3 (Autumn 1991), 98,
https://www.jstor.org/stable/3809841; Jane Gallop, Feminism and Psychoanalysis: the Daughter’s Seduction,

(London: Macmillan, 1982), 67.
611 See chapter 5.
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Irigaray’s crypt does however have a Teresian flavour reflecting the saint’s notion of mining for gold
as a model of recollection, and also speaks to recogimiento as this process of movement through the
body toward the soul.613 As such, I would argue that the soul is not si(gh)ted in the crypt of her body,
but encrypted throughout her corporeal entirety; Teresa’s soul is encoded throughout her entire form,
throughout all points of her embodied self.
The point at which Irigaray comes closest to Teresa is in her reading of Teresa’s sensation of
self-penetration: “[t]he ‘soul’ escapes outside herself, opening up a crack in the cave (une
antr’ouverture) so that she may penetrate herself once more. The walls of her prison are broken, the
distinction between inside/outside transgressed.”614 Yet how can her self penetrate itself? Irigaray in
some way again misplaces Teresa’s si(gh)te, constructing a vision of self-penetration that is too
si(gh)te-specific; she misappropriates Teresa in a manner that speaks to an ‘out of body’ experience
in which Teresa’s soul leaves the remains of herself, splits herself open and escapes the confines of
the body. Although Irigaray’s self-penetration correctly splits Teresa open, her soul does not leave
the body as it constitutes a vital part of the soul. Instead, it appears that Teresa incites the reader to
turn within their self to locate the soul in and through the body, to then move deeper within themself
in a journey through the soul. For Teresa it seems to be the spirit (that most intimate part) that can
penetrate and move throughout her self, and which later becomes one with that of the Divine.
Irigaray’s self-penetration however correctly lays ‘something’ between the soul and body. As we
have seen, between the two facets of her being there lies a frontier that calls to be transgressed; this
exterior-interior transgression is vital for Teresa’s soul-si(gh)ting recogimiento.
613 “Si cavan, hallarán oro en esta mina, si la tienen amor, no les duele el trabajo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de
Perfección,” 265.
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Paréceme que he leído que como un erizo o tortuga, cuando se retiran hacia sí; y devíalo de
entender bien quien lo escrivió.615
From within the fourth moradas Teresa likens the process of recogimiento to the retreat of a
hedgehog or tortoise, a muscular in-turning within their own corporeality. Teresa’s mystical
pilgrimage is doubly corporeal, both a strenuous journey and an almost muscular retreat which
occurs through body and soul. Although, like Irigaray, Teresa’s hedgehog and tortoise infer a
regression through a singular site, Teresa lays her emphasis upon the action, the movement of her
word-image from outside to in, rather than its anatomical specificity. This corporeal sense of
recollective regression is further amplified by Teresa’s use of the interior-exterior senses, as we shall
come to see in chapter five.
Similarly, this sense of internment, in-volution, and regression through body-soul emerges in
Teresa’s Meditaciones sobre los Cantares.
El grandísimo amor que la tiene el Rey que la ha traído à tan gran estado, deve de haver
juntado el amor de esta alma a Sí de manera que no lo merece entender el entendimiento,
sino estos dos amores se tornan uno.616
She speaks of her mystical union with the Divine as a transformation of their two loves into one:
“These two loves, then, become one: the love of the soul has been brought into genuine union with
that of God.”617 Whilst ‘tonarse’ offers a sense of becoming, its proximity to ‘tornar’ (to turn/return)
speaks to a transformation performed through turning inwards, an in-turnal self-transformation. Her
615 “It seems to me I have read that it is like a hedgehog or tortoise, when it retreats into itself, and whoever wrote
this understood it well.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 503.
616 “The great love that she has for the King who has brought her to such high a state, must have united the love of
this soul for Him to His self in a way that the intellect is not worthy of understanding, rather these two loves
become one.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 462.
617 Teresa of Jesus, “Conceptions of the Love of God,” The Complete Works of St Teresa of Jesus, trans. E. Allison
Peers (London: Sheed and Ward), 2: 394.
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love for Him unites with His for her and in that union there is a sense of circularity; Teresa
withdraws inwards towards and through the soul structured deep within in her corporeal form. Whilst
this in-turning of recogimiento appears almost cyclical, there is a desired destination in sight; at the
end of this camino de la oración their mystical matrimony lies deep within the castle, at that most
intimate depth which Irigaray identifies as “cryptic” and from which she emerges transformed in(to)
Him.618 Therefore, her involution is also a revolution, a corporeal regression from exterior to interior
encircled around the si(gh)te of the Divine at her core; she spirals down within her being much like
the action of the mill stone to which she likens the soul’s faculties earlier in the fourth moradas.619
Similarly, tornar is also in a passage of her Camino, to speak of how that which appears to be
sensual, a key flaw of human nature, can be transformed through spiritual love into virtue.620 Hence
her mystical transformation is not only of the soul as image but also of its perceptions, and her very
human nature.
Summary
This chapter has sought to map how and where Teresa si(gh)tes her soul throughout her corpus,
tracing its relationship to the body through the corporeality of her word-images. Within her word-
images, Teresa’s interior castle is vital in the construction of a soul inherently encrypted withinin the
interior architecture of her body. Its cellular, almost molecular structure of moradas speaks to a soul
entwining itself through the entirety of her form rather than residing at one specific position within
the body. Although she makes graphic reference to anatomical sites within the body, the variety of
these locations perform a si(gh)ting of the soul within her corporeal depths.
618 Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 423; Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,” 191.
619 “Y como cosa tan penosa para mí, pienso que quizá será para vosotras ansí y no hago sino decirlo en un cabo y
en otro, para si acertase alguna vez a daros a entender cómo es cosa forzosa, y no os traiga inquietas y afligidas,
sino que dejemos andar esta taravilla de molino, y molamos nuestra harina, no dejando de obrar la voluntad y
entendimiento.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 499.
620 “lo que nos parece sensualidad se torna en virtud.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 257.
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These anatomical references speak in fact to a soul that follows the form of the body, one that
shares in its formal architecture. Furthermore, the reflective capacity of Teresa’s diamond castle
positions her soul within her external being as a mirror of that interior self, and as a mirror of the
Divine. Teresa’s soul is inherently woven in situ between her physical exterior and the Divine mirror
she must locate and move through in order to unite with her Beloved.
Recogimiento is not simply a search for the Divine within the soul, but in the first instance it
a process of si(gh)ting that soul within which He resides. Primarily it is Teresa’s castle that effects
this si(gh)te of the soul, allowing her to stand outside of, enter, and move through her self in a
journey from exterior to interior; a journey that begins and ends in ecstasy. This recollective process
of involution speaks to a soul ingrained within her corporeal interior through a circular ingression
from exterior to interior (and back again). This in-turning is both an ‘anatomical’ retreat and signifies
a turn away from the exterior world towards the realm of the interior and the spiritual. Recogimiento
offers a dual withdrawal towards a singular interior, but one that has a duality to its meaning; the
corporeal interiority of her soul cannot be separated from her body, yet the process echoes a more
traditional ‘turn away’ from the world of the flesh. However, Teresa’s in-turning is not necessarily a
turn away from the world in the strict ascetical or Pauline inclination, rather it is an inwards turn
through the body and soul.
As such her soul emerges vitally entwined in her interior architecture, an entity with
reference to an anatomical specificity that speaks to its construction throughout the interior of her
body. Her soul has eyes, senses, entrails, it touches the very marrow of her bones; it is a fundamental
architecture within her corpus. Yet whilst Teresa si(gh)tes the soul in reciprocity with her body, there
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emerges a sense of their own autonomy or formality, it appears a gap or frontier lies between her
corporeal realm and the “cryptic” abyss of the soul.621
621 Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,” 191, 200.
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Chapter 4: Made, or making, in the image: the structure of the soul
Though her soul and body may be ontologically entangled, Teresa’s soul is never constituted by her
interior anatomical architecture; as something a fraction other, the soul has a form and function in
and of its own. Although she refracts this soul-castle into seven realms of infinite moradas,
throughout its structure Teresa speaks to a fewer number of faculties (potencias) which embody the
function of the soul: ‘el entendimiento’, ‘el pensamiento’, ‘la memoria’, ‘la imaginacion’, ‘la
voluntad.’ These faculties do not directly co-relate to any realm of her diamond structure, but as the
inhabitants of the castle (la gente de este castillo) they roam throughout its architecture. This chapter
seeks to map the structure of the soul through the function and form of her spiritual faculties.
Hagamos cuenta que estos sentidos y potencias que ya he dicho, que son la gente de este
castillo – que es lo que he tomado para saber decir algo -, que han ido fuera y andan con
gente extraña, enemiga del bien de este castillo, días y años.622
Howells has gone far to chart the functional structure of Teresa’s soul; his comparative analysis of
Teresa and her mystical compatriot, John of the Cross, examines the soul’s form and function in
terms of their structure and dynamism along the path of mystical transformation.623 Howells argues
that both authors demonstrate an “anthropology of division” within the soul due to the
epistemological development that takes place in its progression towards the Divine; 624 this division
lies between the very centre of the soul – the part that experiences unmediated union with the Divine
-, and the exterior realms of the soul. The “onset of mystical union” instigates a divide due to the
difference between ordinary or natural knowing (the soul’s relation to created objects within the
622 “Pay attention to these senses and faculties which I have mentioned, they are the inhabitants of this castle –
which is what I have used in order to speak of this -, they have gone outside and begun to walk with strangers,
enemies to the good of this castle, for days and years.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 502.
623 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila.
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bounds of subject-object relations) and the spiritual knowing of God (the supernatural knowledge
attained through intersubjective union of the mystical marriage). 625 In the mystical marriage, the
human spirit enters into an ‘undoing’ union with the spirit of the Divine, and achieves a relation or
“mutuality” with God in which there is no intermediary:626 “Here the soul’s relation with God is truly
intersubjective, in that it is not mediated through any created objects.” 627 The intensification of this
Divine relationship is at odds with the soul’s natural function which is dependent upon its subject-
object relationship with other created objects.628 This contention between forms of knowing, Howells
argues, signifies a divide between the inner and outer parts of the soul.629
To reconcile this divide, Howells argues that Teresa cleaves the soul in two, each of her
faculties consisting of exterior and interior parts. He draws this conclusion from three principal
aspects of her mystical corpus. Firstly, Howells’s takes Teresa’s allusions to a ‘superior’ part of the
soul to signify an exterior part in which interaction with the Divine is mediated, separate from the
activity in the interior of the soul.630 Secondly, Teresa’s alludes to multiple roles or functions within
the faculty of her entendimiento, which Howells’s takes as identifying the separate inner and outer
parts of her faculties.631 These characteristics, he proposes, evidence how Teresa’s use of the Mary-
Martha dialectic attends not just to the balance between action and contemplation, but to how such a
tension functions through a divided soul.632 Howells is clear, however, that this anthropological
division does not constitute an ontological one.633 Whilst he explores her soul separately in terms of
626 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 99; “Pues si a un alma nuestro Señor hace tanta merced,
que tan sin división se junte con ella, ¡qué deseos, qué efectos, que hijos de obras heroicas podrán nacer de allí, si
no fuere por su culpa!” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 448.
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its structure and dynamism, these two factors are inherently intertwined, yet function as a means of
separately examining the “‘fixed parts’ and components of the self, … and the operations of the self
when in action … while dynamically it is drawn into God.”634 Howells interweaves these structural
and dynamic concerns with convincing dexterity, and the balance between these two parts allows him
to unpick some complex issues within the transformation of Teresa’s soul, in particular the
Christological and trinitarian aspects of her union. Such a divided approach does, however, offer
some issues when we come to explore the functions of her individual faculties. In the previous
chapter I alluded to how the notion of Teresa’s ‘superior del alma’ in fact suggests a sense of
interior-exterior soul-body reciprocity rather than a division of the soul. Similarly, this chapter will
argue that this ‘superior’ part is better understood as Teresa’s spirit, the deepest centre of her soul.
Whilst she may refer to pensamiento, razón, and imaginación, the structure of her soul is
inherently tripartite, following the Augustinian form of understanding, memory and will.635 Just as
she mirrors her spiritual ‘maestro’s’ trinity of seeing/knowing, so the form of her soul follows suit;
the additional powers to which she alludes are encompassed by the function of the three primary
faculties. Within her tripartite soul we can also find the echo of another spiritual ‘maestro,’ Osuna,
who outlines a similarly three-part soul: understanding, memory and will, or reason, irascibility and
desire.636 The vocabulary of recollective prayer which Teresa inherits from Osuna describes how
each stage of recogimiento effects a perfecting of each of the soul’s parts:637 vocal prayer touches the
memory, silent prayer the understanding, and mental or spiritual prayer perfects the will.638 Whilst
Teresa adopts this notion of prayer-full self-perfection, her states of prayer are not so neatly aligned
635 See: Peter Tyler, “Teresa of Avila ’s Picture of the Soul: Platonic or Augustinian?,” 105.
638 Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, 351.
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with her individual faculties. As we shall see, each of her faculties appears to function in an inter-
related fashion as she moves through her self in recollection.
Laredo similarly constructs a tripartite soul, yet within his mode of recogimiento it is the
memory that takes centre stage.639 In the previous chapter we established Teresa’s debt to Laredo in
terms of the corporeality of her soul, but it is in regard to the soul’s function that she vitally diverges
from her anatomical spiritual guide. For Laredo there lies a distinction between mind and soul; these
two constituent parts of the human self or being are tied by the corporeal memory, but the powers of
imagination, reason, thought and judgement are separate from the spiritual faculties of the soul, they
reside within the cognitive function of the brain.640 Teresa, however, makes no such distinction.
Whilst Laredo’s more medical or psychological view to the mind and soul may sit apart from
Osuna, Teresa, and Augustine, it serves to draw together the function and structure of the soul with
the broader context of medieval cognition. The Siete Partidas, a Castilian statutory code, speaks to
the formation of man through five exterior and five interior senses. In contrast to the soul’s sensorial
system that emerges in Teresa’s writing and that of others such as Bernardino da Siena, the interior
senses of the Partidas are cognitive powers: the sensus communis/seso communal (that which
receives and forms the species or information from the exterior senses), virtus ymaginativa
(imagination), virtus estimativa (judgment), virtus cogitativa (fantasy or thought), and the virtus
memorativa (memory). 641 The powers with which Laredo adorns his brain closely reflect these five
interior ‘senses.’642

641 See James Homer Herriot, “The Ten Senses in the Siete Partidas,” Hispanic Review 20, no. 4 (1952),
642 See Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 108-9.
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Although first compiled two centuries before her birth, these cognitive notions flow through
Castilian thought into the sixteenth century, and Boon alludes to Teresa exhibiting an awareness of
such theories.643 Given her debt to Laredo it is not inconceivable to imagine that Teresa had some
cursory knowledge of such cognitive theories, and it offers an illuminating context within which to
position the exploration of her soul’s functional structure. This chapter traces the individual function
of each of Teresa’s faculties as they move through the castle, arguing that that not only are they each
individually transformed along her camino de la oración, but that the notion of image, or image-
making, lies at the centre of each of their roles. It is not only the soul as a whole that functions as an
image of the Divine, but rather her individual faculties each perform their own iteration of image-
making.
Entendiendo Él sin el entendimiento644
The first faculty we encounter within Teresa’s soul-castle is her entendimiento, the intellect or
understanding.645 Whilst this is the faculty to which she makes reference most often, Teresa almost
always speaks to her understanding in terms of a lack or incapacity.
Como ya estas moradas se llegan más adonde está el Rey, es grande su hermosura, y hay
cosas tan delicadas que ver y que entender, que el entendimiento no es capaz para poder dar
traza como se diga siquiera algo que venga tan al justo que no quede bien escuro para los
que no tienen experiencia.646
643 Herriott traces the cognitive notion of the Siete Partidas through to the works of Teresa and Laredo’s
contemporaries such as Fray Bartolome de las Casas (1484-1566). See James Homer Herriot, “The Ten Senses in
the Siete Partidas,” 277; Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 174.
644 “Understanding Him without the understanding.”
645 Covarrubias’s Tesoro de la lengua castellana or espanola defines ‘entendimiento’ as the latin intellectus (the
faculty of the soul). See: Sebastian de Covarrubias Horozco, Tesoro de la lengua castellana o espanola, 355.
646 “As now these moradas become closer to the King, it is great their beauty, and there are such delicate things to
see and to comprehend, such that our understanding is not capable of giving form to how to say even something
that comes close so that it does not remain so dark for those who have no experience of it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 495.
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Although, as we shall see, it falters as the soul moves through itself, Teresa’s understanding appears
to function as that which ‘gives form’ (dar traza) to what the souls sees or experiences. As she
moves through the castle Teresa struggles to capture that which occurs, her entendimiento becomes
increasingly incapable of describing what is seen, of forming something that comes close to her
experience. Thus, it appears the entendimiento is responsible for generating linguistic or discursive
form; her entendimiento functions as that understanding faculty through language, it considers,
comprehends, and gives form to experience. As we witnessed in tracing her transformation through
language, Teresa bemoans her incapability to put into words that which she experiences; this lack in
her language resides within the realm of the entendimiento, the faculty whose responsibility it is to
trace the form of her experience in language.
Pues si se quiere tomar un libro de romance, persona que le sabía bien leer le acaecía no
entender más de él que si no supiera letra, porque no estava el entendimiento capaz.647
Furthermore, at the other end of her mystical praxis, Teresa ties the understanding to the act of
reading: it is a fault in the entendimiento that prevents her from reading and leaves her in state in
which it were as if she knew no language. It would appear then that Teresa’s entendimiento is
linguistically responsible at each end of the word-image cord: it is the faculty that facilitates her
consumption of the word on the page in the act of reading, and in the act of writing it is that which
gives form to her experience in words.
Furthermore, if we step beyond her castle and into the landscape of her Vida and its four
waters of prayer, Teresa depicts another more visual aspect to this form-giving function.
647“Then if she wanted to take up a book in the vernacular, it happened that this person, who knew well how to
read, could understand no more of it than if she knew not her letters, because her understanding was incapable.”
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Tenía este modo de oración: que, como no podía discurrir con el entendimiento, procurava
representar a Cristo dentro de mí, y hallávame mijor - à mi parecer - de las partes donde le
vía más solo.648
Whilst attempting to illuminate the first state of prayer, Teresa entwines the practice of meditation
and her entendimiento confessing that she is incapable of reasoning discursively with that faculty.
Instead, she finds another mode of performing this prayer through representing Christ within herself,
an interior envisioning of the Word-made-flesh. Interestingly Teresa seems to infer a hierarchy here
in terms of modes of meditation, claiming there are some who are able to pray through consideration
of “things of the heavens” and “things on high,” but she is not among them.649 By lamenting her
discursive incapability she appears to prioritise a more Victorine mode of meditation, one based in
discursive thought “along planned lines” that considers the conceptual nature of the Divine, over the
inherently visual Passion meditations that underpinned her mysticism.650
Despite its apparent inferiority, within her Vida, Camino and Moradas, she makes repeated
reference to this form of image-based meditation as the work of the understanding.651
Ponémonos a pensar un paso de la Pasión, digamos el de cuando estava el Señor a la
coluna. Anda el entendimiento buscando las causas que allí da a entender, los dolores
648 “I had this way of praying: as I could not reason with my understanding, I was able to envision Christ within
myself, and I found myself/Himself better - it seemed to me - in the parts where I saw Him more alone.” Teresa de
650 “Meditation is sustained thought along planned lines … it fixes its free gaze upon the contemplation of truth,
drawing together now these, now those causes of things, or now penetrating into profundities … there are three
kinds of meditation: one consists in a consideration of morals, the second in a scrutiny of the commandments, and
the third in an investigation of divine works.” Hugh of St Victor, Didascalion, 92-3.
651 See Libro de la Vida chapters 11, 12 and 13.
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grandes y pena que Su Majestad ternía en aquella soledad, y otras muchas cosas que, si el
entendimiento es obrador, podrá sacar de aquí, u que si es letrado.652
In her mind Passion meditation through the entendimiento is not only the door of entry into the
castle, but the vehicle to move through its structure. 653 As obrador (workshop) Teresa’s
entendimiento is the si(gh)te for her meditative action, functioning through a representation of
images; her entendimiento gives form in both words and images.
Tenía tan poca habilidad para con el entendimiento representar cosas que, si no era lo que
vía, no me aprovechara nada de mi imaginación.654
Within her mystical corpus, there is a sense that Teresa’s entendimiento is not alone in its meditative
wandering; there are other components, or crafts(wo)men, working within her workshop. As well as
her understanding, Teresa alludes to similar discursive and image-making functions in relation to her
pensamiento and imaginación and it is this tension, particularly between the pensamiento and the
“intellect proper,” that forms the heart of Howells’s argument for her divided soul.655
Yo he andado en esta de esta baraúnda del pensamiento bien apretada algunas veces, y
havrá poco más de cuatro años que vine a entender por espiriencia que el pensamiento o
imaginativa, porque mejor se entienda, no es el entendimiento, y preguntélo a un letrado y
díjome que era ansí, que no fue para me poco contento. Porque como el entendimiento es
una de las potencias del alma, hacíaseme recia cosa estar tan tortolito a veces, y lo ordinario
vuela el pensamiento de presto, que sólo Dios puede atarle cuando nos ata a Sí de manera
652 “We position ourselves to think in a scene of the Passion, let us say that in which the Lord was at the column.
The understanding goes forth searching for what there is to understand there, the great pains and sufferings that
His Majesty felt in that solitude, and many other things that, if the understanding is the workshop, it will be able to
extract from here, or if it is educated.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 81.
654 “I had such little ability to represent things with my understanding that, if it was not something I had seen, I
could not conjur something from my imagination.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 64.
655 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 77
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que parece estamos en alguna manera desatados de este cuerpo. Yo vía – a mi parecer – las
potencias del alma empleadas en Dios y estar recogidos con El, y por otra parte el
pensamiento alborotado traíame tonta.656
In her fourth moradas Teresa describes an experience in which she sees herself recollected in the
Divine, but also ‘driven mad’ by her pensamiento who insists on wandering off. Referring to the
underlined sections above, Howells’s proposes that each of her faculties has “two kinds of
operations,” in this case the pensamiento is directed towards the exterior whilst the rest of the
entendimiento (the “intellect proper”) is involved in a form of union.657 Whilst Howells only offers
this example of the divided faculties and elaborates no further on the pensamiento’s particular
function, there is a common sense in Las Moradas that the pensamiento is something slightly other, a
facet of her intellect that is out of control. Within her Camino she describes the entendimiento, like a
headless horse galloping away, whilst in Las Moradas her pensamiento is that which takes off (vuela
el pensamiento de presto) or remains in the outer realms of the castle.658
Whilst I am not entirely comfortable with Howells’s division of the faculties, if one looks
deeper within Teresa’s corpus, we can come to see a sense of the exteriority he aligns to the
pensamiento.
656 “I had walked constricted through this turmoil of thought (pensamiento) many times, and little more than four
years ago I came to understand by experience that thought or imagination, for want of a better way to understand
it, is not the understanding/intellect, and I asked it of an educated man who told me it was so, which was no little
consolation for me. Because as the understanding/intellect is one of the faculties of the soul, it troubles me that it
is so timid at times, and that normally thought flies off so quickly, that only God can restrain it when He ties us to
Himself in such a way that it seems we are somehow loosened from the body. I saw – it seemed to me – the
faculties of the soul engrossed in God and recollected with Him, and in another part unruly thought drove me
mad.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 497.
658 Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección” 311; Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 497.
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Gran remedio es para esto traer muy continuo en el pensamiento la vanidad que es todo y
cuán presto se acaba.659
Within her Camino Teresa outlines the importance of the pensamiento in the practice of recollection,
insofar as it is vital in the soul’s quest to distance itself from worldly affairs and affections. In
particular, she remarks that to perform this inward turn towards the Divine it is most helpful to take
up a book. 660 Given her later distinction between the pensamiento and entendimiento, it is possible to
envision how perhaps the former functions as part as the latter, the part responsible particularly for
the reading act that marks the foundation of her recollective practice. This correlation is further
implied in a passage of her Meditaciones, in which she highlights the pensamiento in relation to the
activity of understanding a sermon or text.661 Here we find a similar connection between the
meditative activity of the entendimiento in Las Moradas, and the exhaustive implications of this
activity. Here Teresa similarly speaks to the pensamiento as involved in the processing and writing
about the “divine material” of the Song of Songs.662 Such allusions to the discursive and
interpretative functions of the pensamiento also suggests a connection between recollection and the
mystical interpretation of scripture. The pensamiento’ s initiation of that recollective intur(n)ing
through reading and meditation, echoes the orig(e)nal unearthing of the mystical meaning of
scripture. This linguistic, discursive function also suggests that Frohlich’s more literal translation of
659 “A great remedy to this is to bring continuously into one’s thoughts the vanity of everything and how soon it
will end.” The particular phrasing quoted here is taken from the Codices de Valladolid, although the same
sentiment is present within the Codices de el Escorial. Both Codices are given in this edition of her Obras
Completas. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 277.
661 “Cuando leyerdes algún libro y oyerdes sermon, u pensáredes en los misterioso de nuestra sagrada fe, que lo
que buenamente no pudiéredes entender, no os canséis ni gastéis el pensamiento en adelgazarlo.” Teresa de

Jesus, “Meditaciones,” 424.
662 “Plega a El que, como ha querido atine en otras cosas que os he dicho – u Su Majestad por mí, quizá por ser
para vosotras -, atine en éstas. Y si no, doy por bien empleado el tiempo que ocupare en escrivir y tartar con mi
pensamiento tan divina materia, que no la merecía yo oír.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,”
426.
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pensamiento as “the chatter of thinking” falls a little short of its vital function;663 through her
comparison with the more scholastically minded Aquinas, Kutarňová instead suggests “reason”
(ratio) which seems to address the pensamiento’s contribution to the advancement of knowledge
based on sensory perception.664
Whilst Howells highlights the distinction Teresa makes between the entendimiento and
pensamiento, he overlooks her allusion to the imaginación within the same paragraph; 665 this
imaginative connection is also implied within her Vida. She describes her recollective engagement
with the Passion as functioning within the realms of the entendimiento, but remarks that in doing so
she is unable to imagine something she has never seen before. 666 Here she entwines the linguistic and
visual form-giving powers so closely that her entendimiento comes to encompass imagination. In this
entanglement she both lacks the capacity to reason with her entendimiento and to envision the higher
things of Paradise as her understanding is too crude; she can only envision that which the Lord offers
her. 667 Hollenback encapsulates this entanglement, arguing that Teresa’s imaginación works in
tandem with the understanding “to elicit feelings of either devotion or contrition,” but its importance
lies in the creation of images.668 As such, it seems that Teresa’s entendimiento envelops the powers
of her imagination, which resides like a sub-faculty within the understanding. Furthermore, given
663 Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic: A study of Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle (Atlanta: Scholars
Press, 1993), 178.
664 Kateřina Kutarňová, ““The Structure of the Soul in St. Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle,” 405.
665 “Que el pensamiento o imaginativa, por que mejor se entienda, no es el entendimiento.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 497.
666 “En cosas de el cielo ni en cosas subidas, era mi entendimiento tan grosero que jamás por jamás las pude
imaginar, hasta que por otro modo el Señor me las represento. Tenía tan poca habilidad para con el entendimiento
representar cosas que, si no era lo que vía, no me aprovechara nada de mi imaginación.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de
la Vida,” 64.
667 “Tenía este modo de oración: que, como no podía discurrir con el entendimiento, procurava representar a
Cristo dentro de mí, y hallávame mijor - a mi parecer - de las partes donde le vía más solo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro
de la Vida,” 64.
668 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment, 539, 511-2.
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Teresa’s equation of the pensamiento and imaginación, it appears this power similarly lies under the
entendimiento’s intellectual umbrella.
Whilst Teresa may draw together these two sub-faculties in her Vida, as Kutarňová
highlights, this does not necessarily imply they are one and the same. 669 Given the connection
between the pensamiento and text/reading and the imaginación and visualisation, it is perhaps more
appropriate to envision them as separate entities within the entendimiento: the pensamiento’s power
lies in the discursive and linguistic functions, whilst the imaginación’s responsibility is slightly
secondary, painting the interior visuals of meditation from the pensamiento’s interpretation of the
text.670
Cuando Su Majestad quiere que el entendimiento cese, ocúpale por otra manera y da una luz
en el conocimiento tan sobre la que podemos alcanzar, que le hace quedar absorto; y
entonces, sin saber cómo, queda muy mejor enseñado, que no con todas nuestras diligencias
para echarle más a perder.671
Howells also identifies another power to Teresa’s intellect, her conocimiento, which in his eyes
marks the part of the faculty which enters into union with the fourth moradas.672 This part of her
intellect that lies “far above” that of the pensamiento maintains an absorption in the Divine whilst
that latter part wander off.673 Howells introduces this distinction to reconcile how the soul desires to
praise God’s glory and honour, but dares not stir its intellect for fear of disturbing this first taste of
669 Kateřina Kutarňová, ““The Structure of the Soul in St. Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle,” 395-6.
670 “En fin, no alcanza la imaginación - por muy sutil que sea – a pintar ni trazar cómo será esta luz, ni ninguna cosa
de las que el Señor me dava a entender con un deleite tan soberano que no se puede decir.” Teresa de Jesús,
“Libro de la Vida,” 207.
671 “When His Majesty wishes the understanding to cease, He occupies it in another manner and illuminates a
knowledge beyond our reach, which keeps it absorbed; and then, without knowing how, it becomes far better
instructed, so that we cannot begin to spoil it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 504.
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Divine presence. Yet, in the words of Kutarňová, this “seems to be rather overstretched.”674 Teresa
uses the term conocimiento in this fashion only once within her corpus. Instead, she uses the term
more often to speak to the concept of self or Divine knowledge (propio conocimiento).
Whilst Kutarňová suggests “cognition” for this conocimiento, if we read Teresa’s use the
term in the wider context of both that paragraph and her corpus, it is possible that she is in fact
speaking to some self-knowledge endowed by the Divine, not a separate faculty.675 Teresa’s
entendimiento functions in part through a language of sight in which gaze and illumination signify
the act of understanding. Rather than indicating any interior part of her entendimiento, here it appears
Teresa alludes to an enlightening Divine gift which improves her knowledge (conocimiento) of her
self and her Beloved. Frohlich appears to make a similar identification in her translation of
conocimiento as “consciousness” insofar as consciousness has its essential ground in the Divine and
her soul-castle transformation manifests an ever-increasing “awareness” of that Source.676 Thus, I
would argue there is perhaps no other part “far above” the rest of the entendimiento, but rather that
this signifies the first (mystical) instance of Teresa’s coming to understand her self in relation to the
Divine Other.677
Both Howells and E. A. Peers, use ‘mind’ to refer to the role or functions of the
entendimiento: Peers employs the term to refer at times to the whole of the entendimiento, whilst
Howells uses it to refer only to the pensamiento. 678 Whilst this translation does encompass its
broader cognitive function, it would be wrong to perceive her entendimiento as the mind entire.
Envisioning Teresa’s entendimiento alongside the notion of intromission and the Siete Partidas may
permit us to glimpse more clearly to what extent ‘mind’ captures her understanding. In both models,
676 Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 200, 193.
678 See: Teresa of Avila, “Interior Castle,” 2:207; Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 77.
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the sensus communis (seso comunal) functions as that faculty which receives information from the
corporeal senses (species) and compiles it into some notion of form. Within the Siete Partidas these
‘forms’ are re-membered by the virtus imaginativa and the virtus memorativa.679 There is a clear
parallel here between the form-tracing function of these interior senses and the role Teresa applies to
her entendimiento.
Diréis que ya esto es consideración, que no podéis ni aun queréis sino rezar vocalmente;
porque también hay personas mal sufridas y amigas de no se dar pena, que como no lo
tienen de costumbre, esla recoger el pensamiento al principio.680
In particular her Camino describes recollection of the pensamiento as the first step in the recollective
process which itself constitutes a turn inwards to si(gh)te the castle. This would suggest this part of
the faculty has a particular connection to the gaze; much like the seso communal, her pensamiento is
naturally connected to the perception of (exterior) objects. Yet that is not the entire function of the
mind, only one or two of its cognitive powers. Whilst Teresa’s ‘understanding’ may, or may not, give
visual and linguistic form to her experience, think, reason, and imagine, it does not encompass
powers of desire, judgement, or will; these faculties reside elsewhere. Furthermore, whilst this
involvement in that initial inward turn suggests that Howells’s location of the pensamiento as the
exterior part of the entendimiento is well placed, recollection as a soul-body process speaks less to a
divide within the faculty itself, and more to a sense of a natural orientation of the pensamiento which
must be revolved inward in the search for the Divine.681
679 See: Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 18.
680 “You will say that this is already consideration, that you cannot or even want not to pray but vocally; yet there
are also people who are so long-suffering and so accustomed to feeling pitiful, that as this is not in their habit, to
first recollect their thoughts.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 338. This comment only occurs within the
Codices de Valladolid.
681 This will be further developed in chapter 5.
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El entendimiento no es capaz para poder dar traza como se diga siquiera algo que venga tan
al justo que no quede bien escuro para los que no tienen experiencia. 682
Similarly, returning to the castle, Teresa ties her entendimiento’s form-tracing function to notions of
light and sight: in the fifth moradas the devil may draw the soul away from its fixation on the Divine
by darkening the entendimiento, and in the sixth moradas, at the same point at which it cannot read,
it becomes so dark that it is unable to see the truth of its experience.683 Teresa’s entendimiento must
have a sense of illumination to function, further entangling itself with the visual actions of the
pensamiento. Teresa also speaks to her understanding’s linguistic formations in terms of an
illumination, a making visible the sensation of prayer to those who are blind to the experience. The
various powers (sub-faculties) of entendimiento serve in its function through image and sight, in that
active interior sight or envisioning in meditation. Yet this crude form of sight, as we noted in the first
chapter, is an Augustinian comparación for cognition; just as the word-images of her castle reside at
a distance from that which perceives, this visual facet of the understanding offer a means of making
visible its cognitive function.684 Her entendimiento’s function through light and sight is indicative of
its ability to think in both words and, importantly for Teresa, in images.
Memoria
According to Boon, Laredo’s memory is the site of meditation and of the spark of rational thought.685
Yet, as we have just seen, for Teresa it is her entendimiento that functions as si(gh)te of discursive
and visual meditation. However, Teresa’s memory does appear to share facets of Laredo’s memory,
682 “The understanding is not capable of giving form to how even to say something that comes close so that it does
not remain so dark for those who have no experience of it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 495.
683 “Que está el entendimiento tan escuro, que no es capaz de ver la verdad.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 527.
684 See Veerle Fraeters, “Visio/Vision,” 178.
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namely its connection to corporeality (as examined in the previous chapter) and the materiality of its
function.
The primary function of her memory is storage; the memory retains that which is seen or
heard within the form of its own materiality.
Cuando, estando el alma en suspensión, el Señor tiene por bien demostrarle algunos
secretos, como cosas del cielo y visiones imaginarias, esto sábelo después decir; y de tal
manera queda imprimido en la memoria, que nunca jamás se olvida.686
In the sixth moradas, when the Beloved reveals His secrets to her in imaginary visions, that which
she sees is so deeply impressed upon her memory that she will never be able to forget. Furthermore,
this impression is stored in such a way that it is accessible to the understanding in order that it may
speak of the experience post facto. As such Teresa’s memory appears to function through a tactile
and malleable nature, it is formed, impressed, and imprinted to store information. Osuna’s memory is
similarly impressed (upon) by visible things echoing Aquinas’s evocation of the ancient image of the
memory as wax under the seal.687 The impressionable nature of Teresa’s memory clearly reflects this
tradition, and from within the fifth moradas she appropriates this image of the waxen memory to
speak to the re-formation of the soul.688
Whilst Teresa only appears to address the function of the memory along the path of the soul’s
mystical transformation, from this reflection it is not implausible to presume that she envisioned her
686 “When, being in suspension, the Lord in His goodness shows the soul certain secrets, like things of the heavens
and imaginary visions, these it will later know how to speak of; and they are impressed into the memory in such a
way, that never will it forget.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 537.
687 Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, 298. For Aquinas also see: Mary Carruthers, The Book of
Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 70,
688 “Quiere que, sin que ella entienda como, salga de allí sellada con su sello; porque verdaderamente el alma allí
no hace más que la cera cuando imprime otro el sello, que la cera no se la imprime à si; solo está dispuesta, digo
blanda.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 515.
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memory functioning in a similar, image-based manner in day-to-day life. If her understanding can be
taken in part to function in similar terms to the sensus communis/seso comunal in intromission,
receiving and giving form to the information delivered by the senses, these forms are then formally
stored in the material, tactile, and impressionable surface of her memory.
Where she diverges from this tradition, however, is in the form in which these impressions
take place.
In Teresa’s eyes it is not just seen imagery but words, heard or read, that are engraved upon the
surface of her memory. In the sixth moradas, like the pictorial forms of imaginary visions, the words
the Beloved sends to calm her suffering at their separation are so deeply carved upon it that they will
never leave her memory. Whilst Boon highlights that medieval mnemotechnical devices, despite
their apparent ‘wordiness,’ were always stored as image, Teresa’s memory can store words as well as
images.690 Carruthers remarks that there must be a careful distinction between “pictorial” and
“visual” when speaking of medieval memory, one being a function through pictures and the other a
function in terms of things seen.691 Therefore, whilst one could argue that an engraving of a word
functions closer to a picture of said word than the written or spoken word itself, this image-word
duality of Teresa’s memory appears to be more indicative of its function through the visual, through
691 Mary Carruthers, The Book of Memory, 21.
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sight and image. As such it speaks to its close inter-relation with her entendimiento as the initial
realm of word, image, and interior gaze.
Ni es posible que pierda memoria el alma que ha recibido tanto de Dios, de muestras de
amor tan preciosas, porque son vivas centellas para encenderla más en el que tiene a nuestro
Señor, sino que no se entiende, porque entiende el alma estos misterios por manera más
perfecta, y es que los representa el entendimiento y estámpanse en la memoria de manera
que de sólo ver al Señor caído con aquel espantoso sudor en el Huerto, aquello le basta para
no sólo una hora, sino muchas días.692
Teresa infers that the relationship between these two initial or outer faculties is not necessarily one-
way: whilst the understanding compiles information, which is then impressed as image into the
memory, the memory is able to represent that which it stores back to the understanding. That which
the Divine shows to her is so deeply engraved upon her memory that when the memory then
represents this (experience) to the understanding, it is enough to ‘spark’ a state of prayer that sustains
her for days. Interestingly, where Laredo alludes to meditation as the movement of the (interior) gaze
across the mnemotechnical device of the Passion, Teresa infers that it is the memory itself which
represents ‘truths’ to the entendimiento.693 When placed in parallel with her admission that she is
only able to imagine that which the Divine has already shown her, it would appear that her memory
plays a vitally active role in her prayer-full meditation.694 That which sees in imaginary visions,
692 “Nor is it possible that the soul forgets that it has received so much from God, such signs of love that are so
precious, as they are living sparks that further inflame the love it has for our Lord, except it does not understand
itself, as the soul understands these mysteries in a manner much more perfect, and it is that they are represented
to the understanding and imprinted in the memory in such a way that only to look to the Lord falling with such
awful sweat in the Garden, this will be enough for not only an hour, but many days.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 551.
693 “Ya sabéis que discurrir con el entendimiento es uno, y representar la memoria a el entendimiento verdades, es
otro.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 550.

694 “En cosas del cielo ni en cosas subidas, era mi entendimiento tan grosero que jamás por jamás las pude
imaginar, hasta que por otro modo él Señor me las representó.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 64.
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along with imagery stored from external stimuli, can be shown back to the understanding and used in
meditation or to provoke further states of prayer. 695 As such, whilst her entendimiento may function
as the site and vehicle for meditation, it is her memoria that stores and provides the source material.
Teresa’s memory joins her understanding in its function through image; the memory operates
not only through storing information as visual impressions, but on a more fundamental level this is
another mode of image making. In much the same way as the entendimiento gives (visual) form to
sensory information, the function of her memory constitutes an image or form-making in material
terms; her memory is the malleable medium in which her experience is constructed and stored.
This impressionable quality also sheds light on another aspects of the memory’s function
when we consider it in the context of Teresa’s mystical transformation as a re-shaping of the soul-
image. Drawing from Robert Pasnau’s Theories of Cognition, Boon underlines how intromission
“posits an identity between the viewer and the object, since the eye of the viewer was, however
briefly, transformed into the thing seen.”696 For Boon this comes to explain how Laredo can call the
reader to envision their heart as the column to which their Lord was tied; this is possible through a
notion of intromission in which the optic nerve is temporarily impressed with that which is seen in
order to convey the information to the sensus communis.697
Whilst this process is perhaps a little too anatomically specific for Teresa, her mystical
transformation similarly reflects this identification through sight and image. She makes repeated
reference to the soul being ‘labrando’ by the Divine Artist as it moves through the castle; her
mystical ascent is a very Augustinian style self-perfection, a perfecting of her soul as Divine image.
695 In chapter 9 of her Vida she tells the reader of how she was mystically moved by a portrait of Christ suffering on
the cross. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 63.
696 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 147. See also: Robert Pasnau, Theories of Cognition in the Later
Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 95-6.

697 Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 147, 156.
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Her memory, in its waxen, malleable, and almost tactile faculty can be seen to function as a
fundamental material in this transformation of image. Teresa does not become the Holy Landscape as
Laredo calls her to but is transformed into an image of her Beloved through these visual impressions.
La tuya por la Suya698
The third faculty in Teresa’s structural trinity is the will (la voluntad), whose primary function is to
love: “la voluntad se inclina a amar.”699
Pensava yo ahora si es cosa en que hay alguna diferencia la voluntad y el amor. Y paréceme
que sí; no sé si es bovería
Paréceme el amor una saeta que envía la voluntad, que, si va con toda la fuerza que
ella tiene, libre de todas las cosas de la tierra, empleada en solo Dios, muy de verdad deve
de herir a Su Majestad.700
The will loves but it does not constitute love itself, love is something that this faculty emanates
throughout the soul-castle, an arrow fired at her Beloved. Tyler underlines how Teresa’s ascent along
the umbilicoil is fuelled by eros. She inherits a search for the Divine within fuelled by an amorous
desire from affective Dionysianism but drapes it in a fabric of her own contextual weaving. 701
698 ‘Yours for His’.

700 “I was thinking now if there is any difference between the will and love. And it seems to me yes; I do not know if
it is foolish. Love appears to me an arrow fired by the will, that is loosed with all the strength that it has, free from
all things of the earth, employed only in God, truly aimed to wound at His Majesty;” Teresa de Jesús,
“Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 459.
701 Peter Tyler, “Teresa of Avila ’s Picture of the Soul,” 103.
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Como en la meditación es todo buscar a Dios, como una vez se halla y queda el alma
acostumbrada por obra de la voluntad a tornarle a buscar, no quiere cansarse con el
entendimiento.702
This love of the Divine is that which drives her recollection inwards; the will, as lover, functions as
that integral part of the soul that (a)ffects her self intur(r/n)ing. Whilst meditation may occur within
the realm of her entendimiento, Teresa makes it clear that her voluntad is that which fuels the souls
search for the Beloved. Much like Laredo, who Boon argues assigns meditation to will,
understanding and memory, Teresa’s meditational praxis requires the function of all faculties.703
However, as she nears the centre of the castle, this primary turn to search for Him increasingly
becomes a question of the will. Once she has found Him before, her will inflamed with desire for
Him, all she need do to (a)ffect an in-turn and encounter Him once more is simply a turn of the will;
she need no longer tire her entendimiento in discursive search for Him.
En comenzando, nos henchís las manos y hacéis tan gran merced, que sería harto bien
henchirse el entendimiento para ocupar de manera la voluntad que no pudiese hablar
palabra.704
In her Camino Teresa further entwines the will and the understanding through language and speech.
Here she speaks of the understanding becoming so full that it occupies the will, and this final faculty
loses the ability to utter a word. Whilst her entendimiento may be the realm of language formation, it
is driving force of her voluntad which lies behind the will to speak.
702 “As meditation is entirely a searching for God, as He is once found and the soul is now accustomed to turning to
find Him though the work of the will, it does not wish to tire the understanding.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
549.
704 “In beginning, you fill our hands and perform such great favour, that it would do well to fill the understanding in
order to occupy in some manner the will so that it could not speak a word.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de
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En este primer recogimiento y quietud no faltan las potencias del alma; mas está tan
satisfecha con Dios que mientra aquello dura, aunque las dos potencias se disbaraten, como
la voluntad está unida con Dios, no se pierde la quietud y el sosiego, antes ella poco a poco
torna a recoger el entendimiento y memoria.705
This will is the señora of her soul, a status arguably borrowed from Osuna whose voluntad is the all-
conquering queen; 706 in this role her will maintains a power over the other two faculties. In the Prayer
of Quiet it is not only able to ignore the ‘noise’ of the understanding and memory and focus upon her
Beloved, but it begins to recollect its disruptive neighbours, drawing them into this state of sweet
tranquillity.707 As such, through the castle Teresa’s voluntad functions not simply as the driving
force within her initial in-turning in meditation, but it continues her in-volution. Her voluntad
triggers both the first movement across the “threshold,” and also channels her progression through
her self through divine love.708
As the seat of her erotic drive, Tyler ties the will to the realm of the libidinal, of affect and
that desirous urge that drives Teresa’s being. 709 Similarly Teresa entangles the will with the notion of
corporeal or worldly appetite:
705 “In this first recollection and quiet the faculties of the soul are not lost; rather it [the soul] is so satisfied with
God that whilst this [state] endures, although the faculties are out of control, as the will is united with God, it does
not lose the quiet and calm, before she little by little turns to recollect the understanding and memory.” Teresa de
706 “Que aquí es ya señora y poderosa la voluntad.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 367; “the will is a
powerful queen who can conquer them all (obstacles) if she is strengthened with grace and fortified with the taste
of interior contemplation.” Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, 404.
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Esto se adquiere con ir, como he dicho, poco a poco, no haciendo nuestra voluntad y apetito,
aun en cosas menudas hasta acabar de rendir el cuerpo a el espíritu.710
In the “guerra contra nosotros mesmos” she speaks to how one must not satisfy one’s own desires
and appetites to bring the body into conformity with the spirit.711 From within the fifth moradas,
Teresa also speaks of the will as the potential site of self-love, a love that must be denied in order to
achieve spiritual perfection.712 The individual will is not only the site of Divine love, but the
energetic drive for her being in its entirety and the source of the dynamic movement through soul.713
Teresa’s voluntad emerges as the realm within which her libido operates; whilst this is almost always
a loving, desirous drive for Teresa, it is not the realm of the libido in a Freudian sense, rather it is a
more Jungian style energetic force for the entire soul or psyche. 714
La voluntad bien me parece que deve estar unida en alguna manera con la de Dios.715
Teresa’s voluntad appears to have such ‘superiority’ as it is the only one of the three that unites with
her Beloved; the will is the only faculty that experiences a direct unitive contact with the Divine.
Hollenback emphasises that Teresa’s union of the will marks the achievement of true spiritual
perfection, the total conformity of the will with that of the Divine. 716 Her mystical transformation is,
in part, a continuous perfecting of that faculty for it to become closer and closer in likeness to that of
710 “This is achieved, as I have said, by going little by little, not fulfilling our own will and appetite, even in trivial
things until the body yields to the spirit.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 283. This statement only occurs
within the Codices de Valladolid.
711 “The war against our selves.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 283. This statement only occurs within
the Codices de Valladolid.

712 “poco a poco escureciendo el entendimiento y entibiando la voluntad y haciendo crecer en ella el amor propio,
hasta que de uno en otro la va apartando la voluntad de Dios a llegando a la suya.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 522.
713 Kutarňová highlights how this aspect of Teresa’s soul mirrors the thought of Aquinas; his Summa Theologica
proposing that the voluntary is the inner principle of the movement and act which presupposes knowledge of the
end.” Kateřina Kutarňová, ““The Structure of the Soul in St. Teresa of Avila ’s Interior Castle,” 409-10.
714 See: John Welch, Spiritual Pilgrims: Carl Jung and Teresa of Avila (New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1982), 67.
715 “It truly seems to me that the will must be united in some way with that of God.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 501.
716 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment, 545.
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the Divine. This progressive perfection continues until the will becomes so conformed to His that it
in fact becomes His; Teresa exchanges her will for His, becoming a vessel for the performance of His
will on earth.717 This ‘superiority’ over the other faculties, suggests that her voluntad is the most
central realm of the corporeally entangled soul, the faculty closest to the Divine centre.
Teresa’s will begins to take shape as this ultimate quasi-corporeal realm of the soul before
the distinction she lays between itself and the spirit. Her will is tied to the external world but charged
with (a)ffecting the turn inwards; as the final frontier it radiates a fiery desire to fuel the soul.
Poco a poco quita la fuerza a la voluntad para que del todo se emplee en amar a Dios.718
This burning love-drive is not, however, inexhaustible, and the quest for interior perfection requires
that one commit the entirety of the will’s power to (the love of) the Divine. There can be no middle
ground.719 Thus, in a sense, Teresa’s own will becomes weakened, she must utterly conform its drive
to the desire of the Divine. He may be her desire, but such conformity involves an abnegation of all
other drives. Teresa’s image of the arrow from her Meditaciones further infers a sense of the
weakening of her voluntad: the act of loosing its love-arrow towards the Divine requires all its
strength.720 This is not necessarily a weakening of the will’s power, but rather as it is transformed
Teresa’s will loses its identity, conforming in increasing intensity to He whom it desires. Yet, whilst
its identity or individuality may weaken, her fiery desire for Him does not.721 Instead, now she has
arrived closer to Him, now they have begun their tactile encounters, the will is no longer needed to
717 “iOh buen Jesú!, qué claro havéis mostrado ser una cosa con él y que vuestra voluntad es la suya y la suya
vuestra!” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 347. This statement occurs within both the Codices de
Valladolid and the Codices de el Escorial, but the particular phrasing here is taken from the Escorial edition.
720 “Paréceme el amor una saeta que envía la voluntad, que, si va con toda la fuerza que ella tiene, libre de todas
las cosas de la tierra, empleada en solo Dios, muy de verdad deve de herir a Su Majestad.” Teresa de Jesús,
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emanate that fiery love through the exterior realms as Teresa has passed beyond them. In her
increasing conformity with Him, the will’s powers need no longer pour out divine love as she has
begun to arrive at its Source.722
Porque si de otra manera dais la voluntad, es mostrar la joya e irla a dar y rogar que la
tomen, y cuando estienden la mano para tomarla, tornarla Vos a guardar muy bien …
Démosle ya una vez del todo la joya, de cuantas acometemos a dársela.723
In order to illustrate that final conformation, her will to His, Teresa speaks of gifting her will to the
Divine like a precious jewel. To an extent this image infers an almost total loss of will, a sense of her
will leaving her soul-body and a receiving of His will within herself as her own. Yet as Howells
argues, “this does not imply that the soul has become an automaton with no free will of its own… the
mutually reflective nature of this understanding permits the soul to see its actions as self-chosen even
though they come immediately from God’s will.”724 This exchange is not a complete loss of self-will,
but a transformation of the will in which she unites with Him through His will which comes to
function as her own.
Furthermore, this jewel-image can also be employed to envision how the will drives the soul
through love. When Tyler underlines the erotic nature of Teresa’s drive, he refers to her inheritance
of the medieval mystical notion of synderesis that emerges in her use of ‘la centella’ (little spark).725
This ‘centella’ is most often a reference to the Divine spark of the spirit within the soul, the point of
contact where He resides within her very centre. Her will, therefore, as that ultimate realm before the
722 “Metida en el mesmo Dios, que es amor.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 459.
723 “For if you give Him your Will in any other way, it is as if you show Him the jewel as if to give it to Him and beg
Him to take it, and when He stretches out His hand to take it, you withdraw it and keep hold of it tightly … Give
Him this jewel once and for all, as we have so often promised to give Him.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de
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spirit, encircles that spiritual spark. As a jewel it reflects this divine heat/light outwards throughout
the rest of the crystalline soul as burning light, burning love; this radiation also indicates His
presence as the very source of this light.726 Here one could see the reflection of Laredo who Boon
argues conflates notions of ‘vital spirit’ and galenic ‘natural heat’ as both are the origins of life,
originating in the Divine.727 Therefore it is possible to envision the loving function of Teresa’s will as
a process of reflection, its clear crystalline facets refracting the light of the spark throughout the soul-
diamond to fuel her mystical intur(r/n)ing. This reflective faculty also implies a function of the will
through image, or image-making. If the spirit is the Divine spark within the soul, the jewel that
encircles it will function as the primary reflection.
This vision of the will reinforced by the imagery of the central moradas of the Divine as a
jewel within a golden reliquary, a treasure that is only revealed when He so desires. 728 Thus, the
jewel of the will reflects the Divine Himself who lies like the ultimate treasure enclosed within the
realms of those seventh moradas. The opening of His reliquary is preceded by the revelatory
imaginary and intellectual visions of the penultimate moradas, glimpses of His presence which
Teresa speaks of as like jewels gifted to the Bride-to-be.729 Once again we find a sense of vision and
reflection, but now in the original nature and transformation of the will as a reflection of the Divine.
This initial reflective likeness becomes increasingly inflamed throughout the castle until it becomes a
perfect image, a true reflection. Within her soul Teresa’s will functions as the initial image in its
726 Teresa often speaks of the Divine in terms of light or illumination. Her most prominent example, the Divine as
Sun, will be explored in the following section.
727 See Jessica Boon, The Mystical Science of the Soul, 103. Also: Bernardino de Laredo, Modus Faciendi (Seville:
Juan Cromberger, 1527), 311.

728 “Que está este Señor, que es como si en una pieza de oro tuviésemos una piedra preciosa de grandísimo valor y
virtudes; sabemos certísimo que está allí, aunque nunca la hemos visto; … mas no la osamos de mirar ni abrir el
relicario, ni podemos; porque la manera de abrirle solo la sabe cuya es la joya, y aunque nos la prestó para que nos
aprovechásemos de ella, él se quedó con la llave, y como cosa suya abrirá cuando no la quisiere mostrar.” Teresa
729 “Estas son las joyas que comienza el Esposo a dar a su esposa.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas, 543.
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creation, the first reflection of the Divine within the refractions of the castle, but also the final image
through which she must move to reach Him.
Via Spiritus
The final facet of Teresa’s soul-castle is that of the spirit (espíritu), yet it does not necessarily
constitute a faculty, it does not form part of her triune self-structure.
Este centro de nuestra alma – u este espíritu - es una cosa tan dificultosa de decir, y aun de
creer, que pienso, hermanas, por no me saber dar a entender, no os dé alguna tentación de
no creer lo que digo.730
For Teresa, the spirit is “equivalent to the ‘center’ of the soul,” the most intimate, “cryptic” point of
her self.731 Given the spiralling structure of her castle, this spiritual centre has an inherent
correspondence with the seventh realm of moradas in which dwells the Divine: “esta morada suyo,
que es el centro de la mesma alma.”732 Yet, as Frohlich highlights, Teresa also entangles the spirit
with her ‘superior’ part of the soul, but “carefully distinguishes” between the central and superior
parts;733 they may both relate to the spirit but that does not mean they equate to each other. Frohlich
argues that this seemingly paradoxical relation is rectified by the fact that the centre of the soul is the
Divine’s dwelling, the part that “actually belongs to God even more intrinsically than it belongs to
the soul.”734 Conversely, the superior part “belongs essentially to the soul and so must go out of itself
to enter into God.”735 Thus rather than contradicting herself, here Teresa uses the tension to underline
730 “This centre of our soul - this spirit - is such a difficult thing to say and even to believe, that I think, sisters,
through my not knowing how to make it understandable, I give you no temptation to not believe what I say.”
Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 573-4.
731 Robert Kralj, “The Distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit” According to Teresa of Avila,” 87; Luce Irigaray, “La
Mystérique,” 196.
733 Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 223.
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how to core of the soul is the point of connection or shared nature between human and Divine.
Furthermore, the spiralling construction of her castle and its encryption within the body implies that
‘superior’ would not necessarily refer to any upper or outer part of the soul, as Howells proposes, but
its highest point, which is in turn its innermost point. If recollection is an in-turning towards this most
central realm, Teresa’s reference to ‘lo superior del alma’ speaks to a deep interiority of the spirit
within the soul-body.
Alongside its strongly Neoplatonic flavour, Teresa’s interior search for the Divine is equally
inherited from Augustine;736 in her Camino she speaks to his notion of finding Him within herself,
and the theme appears throughout her poetry. 737 Teresa’s mystical transformation is inherently a
process of discovery, of seeking His self within the spiritual centre of her self.
Teresa encounters her Beloved from the onset of her mystical prayer states in the fourth
moradas, but it is only this final central realm of her self that she truly unites with Him. These
seventh moradas are His dwellings within her, his seat within her ‘posada’.
Hay diferencia en alguna manera, y muy conocida, del alma a el espíritu, aunque más sea
todo uno.738
Whilst this final realm of the castle is also that of her spirit, this vital aspect of her soul-self is not
necessarily a faculty; it does not form part of the triune structure of her soul, rather it accompanies
that trinity. From the very beginning of the seventh moradas Teresa draws a subtle frontier between
her tripartite soul and her spirit; whilst they are all one, there is a delicate difference between these

737 “Pues mirad que dice san Agustín– creo en el libro de sus meditaciones – que le buscava en muchas partes y
que le vino a hallar dentro de sí.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino,” 350. This statement appears in both the Codices de el
Escorial and the Codices de Valladolid, but the phrasing here is taken from the Escorial edition. The most direct
examples of this theme within her poetry is perhaps Búscate en Mí. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Poesías,” 655.
738 “There is a difference of a kind, and well known, between the soul and the spirit, although they are one. “Teresa
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two parts of her self.739 In parallel to Howells’s division between her soul’s interior and exterior,
Kralj traces this frontier as a “distinction” between soul and spirit.740 Although this final realm of the
soul-castle is ontologically at one with its wider structure, he argues there lies a psychosomatic
distinction between Teresa’s soul-body and spirit.741
Kralj founds this distinction upon Teresa’s identification of the spirit as simultaneously the
centre of her soul-self and the dwelling place of her Beloved. This should provoke the logical
impossibility of two subjects residing within Teresa’s self: her spirit and His.742 And yet Kralj
reconciles the potential implication of a split within Teresa’s personality, by “affirming there must be
a primordial unity” between these two subjects;743 Teresa and her Beloved must share some vital
spark of similarity.
This spark lies within the spirit, the glint of synderesis that marks the point of contact where
the Divine touches the human soul.744
Estava pensando ahora si sería que en este fuego del brasero encendido, que es mi Dios,
saltava alguna centella y dava en el alma, de manera que se dejava sentir aquel encendido
fuego.745
Teresa’s appropriation of the mystical scintilla is likely inherited from Gerson and Bonaventure
through the works of Osuna and Laredo.746 It is not a direct employment, but a Teresian
739 “Una división tan delicada.” “Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 570.
740 Robert Kralj, “The distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit according to Teresa of Avila,” 86.
741 Robert Kralj, “The distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 89-90.
744 Peter Tyler, “Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul,” 25.
745 “I was just thinking what would it be if from this burning brasier, that is my God, leapt some spark and landed in
the soul, in a way that it let it feel this burning fire.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 529.
746 See Peter Tyler, Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul, 152-3. Teresa also refers within her Vida to the work of St
Jerome who arguably ‘sparked’ the notion of synderesis within the Christian tradition from within his commentary
on Ezekial. She does not however make direct reference to this text, rather she mentions the influence of his
Epistles upon her decision to take the habit. See: Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de Vida,” 40.
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appropriation of the term into a characteristic diminutive, la centellica pequenita.747 In her eyes the
Divine is the glowing brazier that resides within her core and from which all her supernatural
sensations emanate; but from His position within her self He throws a spark that comes to ignite the
soul within a burning desire for He from whom it is now separated. Whilst above Teresa uses the
image of the brazier to speak to how the rapturous experiences of the sixth moradas inflame the soul
with this burning passion for her Beloved, this spark also speaks to the form of her spirit, to her
relationship with Him through the little piece of His self that is also part of hers. The spark of her
spirit is that part of her self that is closest to Him, not only topographically, but in its very nature.
This is the part where their two selves come into contact. In an argument for a soul function through
image or image-making, this spark of the spirit is that which endows Teresa’s soul with its divine
quality, without which it could not constitute a Divine mirror-image.
No se puede decir más de que - a cuanto se puede entender - queda el alma, digo el espíritu
de esta alma, hecho una cosa con Dios, que como es también espíritu, ha querido Su
Majestad mostrar el amor que nos tiene.748
Not only is this spirit that part of her soul that most resembles Him, but it is the part through which
ultimate union occurs. In the final matrimonial moments of the castle, Teresa’s spirit is made one
with that of the Divine. Whilst in the previous stage, her will is united with His in an exchange, here
this is an almost indistinct union: both His spirit and hers become one, she is undone and made one
thing (hecha una cosa) with her Beloved. It is only this very central, intimate point of Teresa’s self,
however that is transformed in(to) Him and here she appears to avoid the dangerous claim to
indistinct union of which others, such as Marguerite Porete, fell foul. Only Teresa’s spirit is
747See Peter Tyler, Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul, 25; see also: Alison Weber, Rhetoric of Femininity, 5.
748Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 571. “Nothing more can be said that – as much as it is understood – this soul, I
mean to say the spirit of this soul – is made one thing with God in that, as He is also spirit, His Majesty wanted to
show the love He has for us.”
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irrevocably and permanently united in His, whilst the other realms of her soul remain her own.
Although she is united to Him through the will, she has taken His on as her own within her self, it is
only the spirit that becomes inseparably entwined with the Divine.
As Frohlich highlights through superior/centre tension, Teresa portrays her spirit as both
centre of soul and yet also capable of manoeuvrability and autonomy.749
Y yo estuve en esto harto tiempo, por parecer que el movimiento grande del espíritu hacia
arriba subía con velocidad.750
In the rapturous ecstasies of the sixth moradas, the spirit can fly, move, be swept upwards at great
speed into the arms of the Beloved, drawn away from the rest of itself as the soul. Before she has
reached these final moradas and is truly undone in the Divine ‘espiritu increado’, Teresa’s spirit is
lifted out of the soul and into the arms of her Spouse-to-be. As alluded in the previous chapter,
Teresa connects such spiritual flights to a rushing or ‘whooshing’ sensation felt within the soul to its
‘superior’ part, which, as Frohlich proposes, is that spiritual aspect/facet that pertains to the soul
itself, but must “go out of itself in order to enter into God.”751 Thus, whilst it may be tied to her
Divine centre, some spiritual facet of her self is imbued with a power to navigate or move through
the soul. This is not just a phenomenon of her castle, but a continual theme within her corpus.
Hay muchas cosas para quitar esta santa libertad de espíritu que buscamos, que pueda volar
a su Hacedor sin ir cargada de tierra y de plomo.752

750 “And I was in this [state] for such a long time, for it seemed a great movement of the spirit swept upwards at
speed.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 498.
752 “There are many things that can impede this sacred liberty of spirit which we desire, in which it can fly to its
Creator without being encumbered by things of earth and weight.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 277.
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Similarly, Teresa speaks to her transformation throughout the castle as a freeing of the spirit; the end
goal of her practice is a liberation of that spark so that it may fly up and reach the embrace of her
Beloved. When viewed through the structure of her encircling faculties, this liberation appears as a
freeing of the spirit from the rest of itself as the soul. Recollection then becomes a process of
movement through the soul, of releasing the spirit from its quasi-corporeal encar(cer/n)ation,
achieved by a weakening of the will; in order for it to fly free, Teresa’s espiritu must break from its
crystal chrysalis and encounter the arms of its Beloved.
Muchas veces he pensado si como el sol, estándose en el cielo, que sus rayos tienen tanta
fuerza que, no mudándose él de allí, de presto llegan acá, si el alma y el espíritu, que son
una mesma cosa, como lo es el sol y sus rayos, puede, quedándose ella en su puesto, con la
fuerza del calor que le viene el verdadero Sol de Justicia, alguna parte superior salir sobre si
mesma.753
To illustrate his argument for distinction between soul and spirit, Kralj draws upon Teresa’s image of
the sun and its rays:754 the sun (soul) remains in place but sends forth its rays (spirit), both are one
and the same yet maintain their own individual identities. Whilst Kralj’s distinction appears correct,
this image sheds more light upon the relationship between soul and spirit than Kralj gives credit; he
does not consider the materiality of the sun-image and its significance within the wider Teresian
context.
Firstly, the sun and its rays are one; the sun is the whole whilst the rays both originate from it
and constitute a key facet of its nature. Here Kralj’s distinction is correct, both soul and spirit are
753 “Many times I have thought, if the sun, being in the sky, its rays have such strength that, without moving from
there, its rays arrive here, if the soul and the spirit, which are one same thing, as are the sun and its rays, can,
remain in its place, with the strength of the heat that emanates from the true Sun of Justice, some superior part
can go out above itself.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 542-3.
754 Robert Kralj, “The distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 84-5.
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ontologically one, yet they maintain their own individuality, their own distinct qualities. 755 Kralj
however, misses the details of their material co-relation: there is a distinction and a dependence, the
sun does not exist without its rays. These rays are a sign of the fundamental power, the vital energy
of the sun, a very Teresian overflow of that which makes the sun, the sun. Could this not also be said
of the soul and spirit? Without that initial Divine spark, the human soul would not qualify as such.
Furthermore, without the burning desire for the Divine that radiates from that spiritual spark,
Teresa’s soul would have no drive, and no image.
There is also a vitally important distinction between the formalities of the sun and its rays.
The sun, much like the soul, maintains a quasi-corporeality in its form; it is an object with a form, a
sense of visual tactility or haptic quality. Its rays, on the other hand, are a seemingly more immaterial
outpouring of the sun’s essence. A similar sense of this ‘material’ distinction emerges in Teresa’s
image of the soul as a silkworm.756 In both images the source object appears significantly more
material, more tangible than its supplementary emanation. Although the rays and the butterfly are
seemingly more delicate entities, they are however sensible, both visibly and tangibly: one can see
the butterfly’s ephemeral form or feel the heat of the rays. At the heart of the function of both these
images is that sense of movement, of potential and autonomy. Whilst the sun is primarily static, the
rays of the spirit may move throughout and beyond its form. The spirit comes into an agency of its
own which allows it to move through the structure of the soul of which it in turn is a constituent part,
just like rays of light glint and refract through her image of the diamond.
755Robert Kralj, “The distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 89-90.
756“Ya havréis oído sus maravillas en cómo se cría la seda, … cómo de una simiente que es a manera de granos de
pimienta pequeños … con el calor, en comenzando a haver hoja en los morales, comienza esta simiente a vivir; que
hasta que hay este mantenimiento de que se sustentan se está muerta; y con hojas de moral se crían, hasta que
después de grandes les ponen unas ramillas, y allí con las boquillas van de sí mesmos hilando la seda y hacen unos
capuchillos muy apretados, adonde se encierran; y acaba esta gusano, que es grande y feo, y sale del mesmo
capucho una mariposica blanca muy graciosa.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 512.
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Furthermore, whilst here the soul may be like the sun, more often the Sun is the Divine: the
Sun of Justice (“Sol de Justicia”), this “dazzling sun” (“aquel sol resplandeciente”) is her Beloved.757
Estarse el mesmo Sol que le dava tanto resplandor y hermosura todavía en el centro de su
alma, es como si allí no estuviese para participar de Él, con ser tan capaz para gozar de Su
Majestad como el cristal para resplandecer en él el sol.758
The Sun-like Divine is a common trope both in Teresa’s writings and in those of her favoured
authors: Osuna combines image of gazing at the Sun and touching a hot iron to speak to spiritual
perception of Divine revelation;759 Ludolph’s Vita Christi draws directly from the Gospels to speak
of how God is a spirit, and just as the eyes of the body must be clear and clean to see the sun, “the
eye of the heart must be pure to be able to behold God.”760 Teresa’s Sun is He who resides within this
central realm of the soul, He who draws her into Himself as she reaches her own centre, a
paradoxical process Kralj appropriately underlines. 761 Considering the frequency of the Sun-as-
Divine image in Teresa’s corpus, we can use it to invert her sun-soul image in order to better grasp
how she envisioned the relationship between her self and the Divine through the spirit.
He is the Sun residing within the central realm of the castle that is also the realm of the spirit.
As Frohlich argues, this spirit correlates to both this moradic realm and the nomadic entity that
moves throughout itself, in a Teresian paradox not unlike that of the soul moving through itself as the
castle.762 This spirit-spark is inflamed by Divine interaction, emanating rays that radiate throughout
the crystalline structure of the soul; the diamond castle refracts the light of the Divine and so comes

758 “Being that same Sun which gives such brilliance and beauty always in the centre of the soul, it is as if he were
not there for the soul to participate in Him, only to be able to enjoy His Majesty as a crystal is able to radiate the
sun.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 475.
760 Ludolph of Saxony, The Life of Christ Part 1, chapter 33.
761 Robert Kralj, “The distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 92.
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to function as an image of Him. In this moment once again Teresa’s mystical transformation
becomes a re-turn: the Divine spark returns to its fiery origin and Creator through the vehicle of the
reflected image. The soul reflects the spark, allowing it to travel within itself and reach the Divine
with whom she becomes one.
Kralj argues that once the spirit arrives within itself at this most central of Divine dwelling
that it encounters its own limit. In his eyes, Teresa touches the final boundary of her self in mystical
matrimony, that instance of one-ness and becoming that allows her true Self-knowledge.763 Whilst he
correctly identifies this as the point of Teresa’s full self-possession, that moment of self-seeing
through the divine lens, there is no final frontier to be encountered here; through an extension of the
s/Sun image we can see how this, as Kristeva states, is not any “dead end, … there is no closed door
to bar access to the Master lodged in the innermost chamber of intimacy.”764
As we have seen, the boundaries within the soul are permeable. The spirit, to an extent,
moves beyond its own liminal frontiers in union with the Divine through participation in His gaze.
Although He may reside within the same realm of the castle, He is not limited to that realm and
Teresa is never in denial of his transcendence. Anderson touches on a similar sentiment when she
describes how the orientation of the soul-castle itself infers “an interiorized view, eliciting a
perspective from the inside, a looking out from the heart or center in which the Sun dwells.”765 This
visual omnipresence not only speaks to Divine interaction and oversight throughout the soul, but also
echoes the sense of spiritual light/heat permeating outwards throughout the crystalline structure of
the soul. Once united spiritually in the ultimate union, Teresa participates in His gaze permeating the
castle, but also gazes outwards into the world seeing Him in everything and everything in Him. 766 As
763 Robert Kralj, “The distinction between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 92.
766 “no ve nada, porque no es visión imaginaria, sino muy intelectual … adonde se le descubre como en Dios se ven
todas las cosas y las tiene todas en sí mismo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 561.
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such she becomes part of something that transcends her own being, transcending in soul and body.
This is a spiritual sight that operates through the spirit, the bridge that connects the soul to the Divine
and through which he grants her the ‘gustos’ and consolations of the castle. The sensations and
revelations of true marital union, that state of full and true self knowing/seeing, swell and surpass the
walls of the seventh moradas to flow out into the remaining realms of the soul-body castle. Similarly,
the ‘gustos’ of early levels of union are bestowed upon the soul by the Divine through the spirit yet
permeate outwards through the spirit’s involvement as the driving light of the soul-castle. This spirit
is always already in the centre, at its origin in the Divine spark, yet as Frohlich argues, it must
simultaneously “go out of itself to enter into God.”767 Therefore, we can envision recollection as a
return of the soul inherently fuelled by the spirit, a spiritual in-volution which culminates in an
intense and momentary localisation of the spirit in that central realm of itself which it shares with the
Beloved.
Aquí no hay memoria de cuerpo más que si el alma no estuviese en él, sino sólo espíritu; y en
el matrimonio espiritual, muy menos, porque pasa esta secreta unión en el centro muy
interior del alma, que deve ser adonde está el mesmo Dios.768
Teresa’s spirit maintains an agency and distinction from the soul that allows it to move throughout
the soul-castle structure in recogimiento. The rays refract throughout the castle, both outwards and
inwards in fragmenting reflections, as the spirit moves throughout itself until it reaches itself again
and encounters the Divine dwelling within. Yet to an extent its proximity in nature to the Divine, and
His role as the Sun, also infer a sense of reciprocity in this agency as His rays move throughout the
767
Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 224.
768
“Here there is no more memory of the body as if the soul were not in it, only the spirit; and in the spiritual
marriage it is much less, because this secret union takes place in the very interior centre of the soul, which must be
where that same God resides.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 571.
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castle as well. Teresa speaks of unitive experiences as though there were no memory of the body, as
if the soul were not in it, only that spirit.
Again, we encounter a sense of recollective shedding, a whittling away at the soul and a
distancing of the spirit from these encircling realms. Just as previously we saw Teresa repeatedly
split by the mirror images of her self in/of/as Christ in recollection, here we find that soul-image
shedding parts of itself, refining its reflection to a state of spiritual perfection in which it is finally
able to wholly join with its Creator. As Frohlich underlines, this is not a linear progress through the
castle, but rather like “a series of finer and finer refractions of one’s awareness of the light” of the
Divine within.769
This process in which Teresa is repeatedly “cut to the quick” constitutes an erosion of those
innermost parts of her self which climaxes in the loss of the heart of her self in Him.770 Though I
have argued Teresa’s transformation is less annihilatory than that of Marguerite Porete, there is a
tangible self-apophasis here. In her exploration of Teresa’s ‘kaleidescopic’ imagery, Mujica
identifies an “exquisite tension” between apophasis and kataphasis;771 Teresa’s piles of imagery serve
not convey an image of the Divine but to annihilate any logical vision/notion of what she sees in
Him.772 In light her recollective shedding, it seems this kataphatic apophasis extends beyond Teresa’s
authorial use of imagery and comes to underpin the very transformation of her soul itself. The soul as
image is increasingly conformed in its Divine reflection, progressively stripped of its self until the
spirit liberates itself from the soul-body structure in order to unite with the Divine Origin within.
Whilst Howells makes very little reference to Teresa’s spirit throughout his analysis, it may
be possible to reconcile his notion of the centre of the soul with our understanding of her spirit in
769 Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 191-2.

771 Barbara Mujica, ““Beyond Image,” 747, 744.
772 Barbara Mujica, ““Beyond Image,” 744.
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order to better understand how that spirit interacts with the other faculties within the castle.773
Howells argues that in the search for the interior/centre part of the soul it is most logical to locate it
within the “deepest part of the faculties” and proceeds to argue that Teresa attempts to strike a
balance between the idea of the faculties participating “immediately in the center of the soul and …
[being] mediated from the centre.”774 Whilst I have questioned the foundation upon which he builds
his division, if we look back to Teresa’s text, we can see that Howells is not too far from our
perspective. Teresa marks the spirit as the centre of her soul and its sparkling nature radiates
throughout the castle.775 Its role as the source of the soul’s drive arguably echoes Howells’s assertion
insofar as the faculties are powered or “mediated” from this spiritual centre and participate in its
recollective action.776 Similarly, it is possible to see the spirit as the innermost part of these faculties
in the same light. Therefore, whilst I may have called into question his “anthropology of division”
within Teresa’s soul, it is possible to reconcile our arguments; 777 both speak to “a distinction between
the interior, where the soul is in the immediate presence of God … and the exterior, where
knowledge of God is mediated.”778 Teresa’s spirit signifies the sole facet of her soul which enters
into unmediated ultimate union with her Beloved. The effects of this union, and those that came
before, overflow and permeate the structure of the castle and are conveyed to the faculties. As such,
whilst Howells’s notion of division is perhaps too systematic for Teresa, there is a sense of
distinction between interiority and exteriority to the function of spirit throughout the faculties. 779
773 Howells does, however, address the distinction between soul and spirit for John of the cross for whom the spirit
presents the most central or interior of the soul in which Divine and spiritual operations take place. See Edward
Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 22.
779 I would argue that the format and approach of Howells’s comparison between Teresa and John of the Cross
may lie at the root of this systematic inclination. Whilst there is a distinct interior-exterior tension within her soul-
castle, Teresa’s writings do not offer up a singular concrete system; her characteristic vagueness and ‘mysticality’
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Therefore, we can come to see that the very function of her soul as an image of the Divine is
dependent upon that divine spark of the spirit within her self. The self-perfecting of this image
becomes not only a recollective movement of the self through its self-images, but also a shedding; it
passes through the image as it approaches the Divine until that central-most divine spark is reached
by itself, within itself, and through itself as image, and becomes one with its creator and the Self in
whom its image was made.
Summary
This chapter has traced the functions of the soul’s constituent faculties as it moves through itself as
the castle. These three vital faculties, alongside her spirit, wander throughout her moradic
architecture and yet also come to form the nature of the soul itself; and as they wander, each part of
her self comes to construct an image.
As the vital si(gh)te of meditative recollection, Teresa’s entendimiento is that which
constructs her interior images; it is both the locus of her internal Christological (en)visualisation from
the text, and through the pensamiento-imaginación it is that which forms the word-images of her
texts in writing. It is this part of her self that sees, that reciprocally traces the image in her mind's eye
and forms it into language. These formations leave an impression upon the memory, that material and
almost tangible part of Teresa’s soul. Through its impressionable nature the memoria not only stores
as image but speaks to itself as the formative medium through which Teresa’s soul-as-image is re-
shaped.
The final quasi-material realm of the soul is the will, which constitutes a (self) image in its
reflection of the spark of Divine presence within the soul. As the ultimate crystalline realm before her
are not only part of her charm but an integral part of the play of language within her mysticism itself. Whilst this
thesis does not argue that Howells’s exploration of the divisions within Teresa’s mysticism is misguided or
misplaced, there is an extent to which his comparison to a more systematic and scholastically trained theologian –
in which John is examined first - may colour his reading of Teresa.
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spirit, the will drives the recollective in-volution through this reflective nature; it is both the initial
image created within the reflections of the soul, and the final image through which she must ascend
to release her spirit. This release marks the point at which Teresa encounters the locus of His touch
within her self; this is the most intimate part of her being, that central most realm of the castle, which
constitutes both His dwelling place within her and that of the glint of His divine nature within her
self. Through the demarcation she paints between the nature of the soul and spirit, Teresa’s vision of
recogimiento emerges as the passage of the spirit through itself in and as the soul.
The spirit ignites this process, driving the soul through the reflective will, so that the soul
moves to turn within itself. As it moves through the castle it encounters itself within these realms and
begins to move through the function of each of its faculties. This spirit is something slightly ‘other’
to the soul itself, a vital part of its nature but with its own distinct manoeuvrability and sense of
autonomy, like the rays which radiate from the sun. Whilst her spirit corresponds to the centre of her
soul, it comes to share that central realm with the Divine once it is progressively released from the
encircling realms of the faculties. Then, alone, it is undone in the spirit of her Beloved in mystical
matrimony; the spark is irrevocably engulfed within embrace of the divine brazier, fusing in a union
which comes to power the soul anew.
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Interlude: Deconstructing the castle, re-constructing the soul
Having examined each realm of Teresa’s soul, let us trace the path of its transformation through the
realms of her castle. Yet these faculties are not the only inhabitants of her castle, Teresa also
populates her castle with spiritual senses.
Hagamos cuenta que estos sentidos y potencias que ya he dicho, que son la gente de este
castillo.780
Her castle is a sensory and sensing entity, its architecture inhabited by a network of senses, much like
those of the body, that work in tandem with her faculties. Before her entendimiento can give form to
her experience or her memory store them in the waxen surface of the soul, perception is performed,
and such senses are similarly entangled in this transformative progression of the soul through itself.
Whilst the function of her interior senses will be explored in the following chapter, this retracing will
also begin to draw (with)in Teresa’s (a/i)llusions to the interior senses.
Porque a cuanto yo puedo entender, la puerta para entrar en este castillo es la oración y
consideración.781
The soul enters itself through the doors of prayer and meditation, and in these first three realms of
active recollection, the functions of all three faculties are vital: within the workshop of her
entendimiento the linguistic and visual functions of her pensamiento and imaginación serve to
conjure mental images of the Passion from text (in)formed by her memoria. This instigation of
recollective in-volution is driven by Teresa’s will, itself refracting the spark of the spirit.
780 “Pay attention to these senses and faculties which I have mentioned, they are the inhabitants of this castle.”
781 “For as far as I can understand, the door to enter into this castle is prayer and consideration.” Teresa de Jesús,
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Whilst the first three moradas are navigated in this active recollective practice, these realms
also mark the start of the soul’s transformation insofar as such meditative wandering comes to effect
the faculties. Howells outlines a clear progression of this movement and effect: Teresa’s inward turn
and progression through the first moradas marks a transition from stagnation to movement, a
“wrenching” of the soul away from the world towards her interior. 782 This is not just the first
movement of transformation for her faculties, but of her interior sense capacity. Teresa’s soul begins
its recollective in-turn from a point of interior blindness from which it is awakened along the path of
recogimiento. The soul which enters the first moradas, having performed that initial inward turn
through the gaze of the pensamiento, is like someone who enters a bright room flooded with sunlight
with dust in their eyes;783 they wish to open their eyes, to gaze upon the beauty of the palace, but
cannot do so. Throughout her castle she calls to the “blindness of humanity,” the earthly dust and
specks that we allow to impede our vision and obscure the path to perfection. 784 Here she echoes
Augustine, for whom human blindness and deafness are shattered by the Divine, awakening the
soul’s powers of perception to His presence within.785 Similarly Juan de Padilla instructs the readers
of his Passion guide to “open the eyes of the five senses” and to see how no greater suffering ever
existed than the bitter plight of man.786 As we have seen previously, Teresa’s recollective retreat
begins as a turn towards the interior through an awakening or inversion of sight within her self, a
si(gh)ting of the soul. Like Osuna and Augustine, in the first realm the soul is also deaf and dumb
783 “Como si uno entrase en una parte adonde entra mucho sol y llevase tierra en los ojos que casi no pudiese
abrir. Clara está la pieza, mas él no lo goza por el impedimento u cosas de estas fieras y bestias que le hacen cerrar
los ojos para no ver sino a ellas.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 479.”
784 “¡Oh ceguedad humana!, ¿hasta cuándo, hasta cuándo se quitará esta tierra de nuestros ojos?” Teresa de Jesús,

785 Saint Augustine, Confessions, 297.
786 Juan de Padilla, Retablo de la Vida de Cristo (N.p.: por Jacobo Cromberger, 1528), fo. Lj,
https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/Retablo_dela_vida_de_Cristo/3K7k-gTSFaIC?hl=en&gbpv=0. Osuna
proposes a very similar idea, requiring that the soul assume of state of peaceful blindness, deafness, and muteness
in the first stages of recollection, in order to be endowed with the Divine light to see. See: Francisco de Osuna,
Tercer Abecedario Espiritual, 181.
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(sorda y muda), unaware of the cacophony of demons that accompany it through these initial
moradas.
The second moradas continue this progression towards interior movement but require more
effort, here the entendimiento is more skilled in its performance and begins to fight with the weapon
of the cross.787 Similarly, Teresa’s spiritual deafness/blindness begins to lift and the soul becomes
aware of the noise of this battle against demons and distractions. 788 The awakening of her spiritual
hearing continues throughout the third realm which is characterised by even greater effort, but here
Howells argues the “main change” is that the soul is now stripped bare of its own will, naked and
detached he claims the soul “has fully surrendered its will to God.”789
Por éstas entenderéis si estáis bien desnudas de lo que dejastes, porque cosillas se ofrecen –
aunque no tan de esta suerte – en que os podéis muy bien provar y entender si estáis señoras
de vuestras pasiones. Y creedme que no está el negocia en tener hábito de relisión u no, sino
en procurar ejercitar las virtudes y rendir nuestra voluntad a la de Dios en todo y que
concierto de nuestra vida sea lo que Su Majestad ordenare de ella, y no queramos nosotras
que se haga nuestra voluntad, sino la suya.790
787 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 98; “que no hay mejores armas que las de la cruz.”
788 “Mas es terrible la batería que aquí dan los demonios de mil maneras y con más pena del alma que aun en la
pasada; porque acullá estava muda y sorda - al menos oía muy poco - y resestía menos, como quien tiene en parte
perdida la esperanza de vencer; aquí está el entendimiento más vivo y las potencias más hábiles: andan los golpes
y la artillería de manera que no lo puede el alma dejar de oír.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 483.
790 “For these you will understand if you are well stripped of that which you have left behind, because little things
offer themselves – although not so much by chance – by which you can test and understand if you are mistresses
of your passions. And believe me that this deal is not comprised of taking up the habit, rather in being able to
practise virtue and yielding our will to that of God in everything and the harmony/arrangement of our life being
that which the Lord commands for it, and us not wishing to perform our own will, but His.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 491-2.
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This sense of stripping the will is appropriately Teresian, and Howells goes on to propose that such
(a)ffect leaves the soul “prepared to fly in mystical union.”791 Yet given the progressive weakening of
the will traced earlier in this chapter, Howells’s baring of the will is perhaps premature, particularly
when we examine the wider context of the paragraph from which he evidences this assertion.792 Here
in the third moradas Teresa speaks of conquering her will, a surrender or weakening of the faculty, in
order to control one’s own passions; this in turn actively conforms her will to that of the Beloved. At
this point her will is still her own, yet she seeks to master it, align it with the desires of the Divine.
Whilst here Teresa does speak to an abnegation of her own will and a desire for that of her Beloved,
the faculty itself remains part of her soul. Rather than the height of the will’s stripping, these third
moradas appear to signify a key instance in the progressive weakening required for its later exchange
with the Divine.
Howells does, however, highlight a vital point in terms of this recollective in-turn through the
first three moradas insofar as within this process of interiorisation “there is no continuity between the
pre-mystical and mystical stages: there is an infinite gap, which can only be traversed from God’s
side.”793 One may actively enter and will oneself through the outer realms of the castle, but that is no
guarantee the Divine will reciprocate. This transition across the infinite human-Divine gap is
characterised by Hollenback as a distinction between two forms of recollection: “recollective effort”,
i.e., “meditative rumination” and concentrated effort to quiet the mind and focus upon God, and
“recollectedness” or the Prayer of Recollection, the supernatural achievement of a state of quiet
which pre-empts the subsequent unitive prayer states.794 The achievement of this “recollectedness”
792 Howells references the underlined phrase from the paragraph quoted above. See: Edward Howells, John of the
Cross and Teresa of Avila, 183.
794 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment, 537, 535.
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signifies the transition across the divide from natural to supernatural and is attained through the
meditative recollection methods.795
Before we turn to explore the state of the faculties within this first Prayer of Recollection, it
is worth noting another hint of transformation through recollective practice.
Han de procurar tratar de la vida de Cristo, y cánsase el entendimiento en esto.796
The movement of prayer-full meditative process serves to tire Teresa’s understanding, it begins to
move towards a state of recollection. This exhaustive process is directly tied to this faculty’s
linguistic function, she speaks to tiring the pensamiento in striving to understand the mysteries
hidden within the words of a text or sermon;797 similarly her Camino instructs one to take up a text as
a particularly good way of tiring that same sub-faculty.798 This early exhaustion arguably marks the
start of the entendimiento’s transformation through the castle, a progression Hollenback identifies as
“crippling” this vital faculty.799 Teresa’s understanding is increasingly weakened – much like her will
– until it is rendered effectively non-functional; this halt in the entendimiento’s function is, in fact, a
condition for achieving higher unitive states of the Prayer of Union and the Spiritual Betrothal.800
This tiring is just the start of the journey, a necessary disabling to prevent this most exterior-facing
faculty from distracting the soul as it wanders down the castle path; in her Camino Teresa laments
how for many years she failed in prayer as she was unable to calm her pensamiento.801 Thus there is a
sense that not only does Teresa define her entendimiento in terms of lack as it moves toward the
796 “They must try to consider the life of Christ, and tire the understanding in this.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la
Vida,” 72.
797 “cuando leyerdes algún libro y oyerdes sermón, u pensáredes en los misterios de nuestra sagrada fe, que lo que
buenamente no pudiéredes entender, no os canséis ni gastéis el pensamiento en adelgazarlo.” Teresa de Jesús,

798Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección” 277. The mention of the pensamiento as the faculty fatigued by this
action only occurs within the Codices de Valladolid.

801 Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección” 341 (CV).
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more mystical realms, but that this most outwardly orientated faculty must be exhausted for the
progression into the following moradas.
All three faculties, however, are drawn into the fourth moradas, beckoned by the call of her
Beloved in a way that is so smooth and strong that the soul abandons all exterior things.802 Now the
understanding is increasingly quieted by its meditative wandering, and here the things that it sees are
far too delicate for its form-tracing capabilities.803 Both Hollenback and Frohlich highlight a little
confusion within this realm as to the relationship between the Prayers of Recollection and Quiet:804
Frohlich equates the two states, arguing the Prayer of Recollection serves to highlight the active
elements whilst that of Quiet “stresses the more passive components” of that same state.805 In
contrast, Hollenback argues for the separate nature of these two transitional stages.806 Whilst Teresa’s
Vida and Camino describe the Prayer of Quiet as that first instance of supernatural recollection, Las
Moradas and her Cuentas de Conciencia describe Prayer of Recollection as that first stage of
supernatural prayer, so in accordance with Hollenback, we will follow the model of these later
texts.807
802 “Visto ya el gran Rey, que está en la morada deste castillo, su buena voluntad, por su gran misericordia
quiérelos tornar a El y, como buen pastor, con un silbo tan suave, que aun casi ellos mismos no le entienden, hace
que conozcan su voz y que no anden tan perdidos, sino que se tornen a su morada; y tiene tanta fuerza este silbo
del pastor, que desamparan las cosas esteriores en que estavan enajenados y métense en el castillo.” Teresa de
Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 502; “Paréceme que he leído que como un erizo o tortuga, cuando se retiran hacia sí; y
devíalo de entender bien quien lo escrivió.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 503.
803 “Como ya estas moradas llegan más adonde está el Rey, es grande su hermosura, y hay cosa tan delicadas que
ver y que entender, que el entendimiento no es capaz para poder dar traza.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 495.
804 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment, 538; Mary Frohlich, The
Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 180-1.

806 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment, 536-7.
807 “La primera oración que sentí – a mi parecer – sobrenatural (que llamo yo lo que con mi industria ni diligencia
no se puede adquirir, aunque mucho se procure, aunque disponerse para ello sí, y deve de hacer mucho al caso),
es un recogimiento interior que se siente en el alma.” Teresa de Jesús, “Cuentas de Conciencia,” in Obras
Completas de Santa Teresa de Jesús, eds. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de
Autores Cristianos, 2003), 625.
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Esta manera de oración (digo en la que comencé esta morada, que he metido la de
recogimiento con esta que havía de decir primero; y es muy menos que la de los gustos que
he dicho de Dios, sino que es principio para venir a ella.808
This Prayer of Recollection marks an arrival at complete recollection of the soul’s faculties, a divine
intervention in which the soul is drawn inwards at the desirous call of the Divine.809 Here the divine
ties Teresa’s faculties to His self yet they are still able to function, the soul is still able to perform
meditative visualisation in images.810 Here the senses appear as though they wish to serve in this
retreating endeavour, seeking to distance themselves from hubbub of the external world. 811
Yet there is also a sense that the soul dare not move in case it disturbs this precious state.812
This tension seems to be reconciled if we look at these statements in reverse order: the soul dare not
move so as not to disturb this state, but a few paragraphs earlier Teresa speaks of the soul’s role as
simply to watch what the Lord does in the soul. Although she has now moved from active practice to
passive and mystical recollection, there still seems a tangible hint of gaze/seeing in this passive
recollective state. In perhaps this first instance of interior sight, the soul must be like a poor (wo)man
before a great emperor, eyes lowered, carefully watching, awaiting His pleasure. 813 This state of
attentive and watchful withdrawal must be achieved to progress to the ‘gustos’ of the Prayer of Quiet.
808 “This manner of prayer (I mean that in which this morada begins, that I have called that of recollection with this
one which I must say first; and it is very much less than that of the blessings from God of which I have spoken, even
though it is the start by which one must come to it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 504.
810 Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 497; Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and
Empowerment, 539.
811 “Que parece ella tiene allá otros sentidos, como acá los esteriores, que ella en sí parece se quiere apartar de los
bullicios exteriores.” Teresa de Jesús, “Cuentas de Conciencia,” 625.

812 “Pues ¿cómo está olvidado de sí el que con mucho cuidado está que no se osa bullir, ni aun deja a su
entendimiento y deseos que se bullan a desear la mayor gloria de Dios ni que se huelgue de la que tiene?” Teresa
813 “Lo que havemos de hacer es pedir como pobres necesitados delante de un grande y rico emperador, y luego
bajar los ojos y esperar con humildad.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 503.
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Como comienza a producir aquella agua celestial de este manantial que digo de lo profundo
de nosotros, parece que se va dilatando y ensanchando todo nuestro interior y produciendo
unos bienes que no se pueden decir ... Entiende una fragancia - digamos ahora - como si en
aquel hondón interior estuviese un brasero adonde se echasen olorosos perfumes; ni se ve la
lumbre ni dónde está; mas el calor y humo oloroso penetra toda el alma y aun hartas veces -
como he dicho - participa el cuerpo.814
For Teresa the blessing of this second instance of mystical prayer arrives by taste and smell. This
scen(t)sation permeates the entire soul-body like delicately perfumed smoke emerging from the
divine brasier within. For Teresa this first taste of union is more an experience of the olfactory
sense(s) than any vision: a fragrance that is not quite a smell but a scen(t)sation upon the nose, more
delicate than heat or odour.
In this state the soul is unable to meditate further; although the memory and the
understanding continue to wander, the will becomes fixated upon her Beloved and ignores their
discursive noise.815 Howells emphasises the link between this state of “knowing-without-knowing”
and a (slightly confusing) description in her Vida of state in which the entendimiento does not work,
but “stands amazed by all it understands … because God desires that it understands … that it
understands nothing.”816 Teresa even mentions that at times her Beloved does not want the
understanding to function and interrupts its wandering, removing it from its own control.817
814 “As [He] begins to produce this celestial water from that spring which I say is within our depths, it seems that it
begins to dilate and expand our interior and to produce some blessings that cannot be said … It understands a
fragrance – we would say now – as if in this very depth was a brasier from which emerged fragrant perfumes; it
does not see the light, nor where it is; rather the heat and fumes penetrate the entire soul and even many times –
as I have said – the body takes part.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 500-1.
815 “Todo esto se mueve aquí, representa el entendimiento, y bulle la memoria … la voluntad, con sosiego y
cordura, entienda que no se negocia bien con Dios a fuerza de brazos, y que éstos son unos leños grandes puestos
sin discreción para ahogar esta centella y conózcalo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 89.
816 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 105. Here Howells quotes from Teresa’s Vida chapter 10.
See: Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 66.

817 “Quiere que el entendimiento cese, ocúpale por otra manera.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 504.
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Hollenback argues that within this realm of the castle there is a further sense that the soul dare not
move, the will dare not chase after its wandering faculties in case it may disrupt its own delicious
state.818 Whilst this may be true of her castle, within her Vida Teresa endows the will with the ability
to re-recollect the other two faculties from within this supernatural state.819
Teresa is clear that this quiet spiritual pleasure is a state of the will, one that marks the initial
moments of the will’s union with that of the Divine.820 In this instance, her will is fixated upon the
Divine and the other faculties are so filled with satisfaction that her voluntad is subtly able to draw
them into a state of conformity. Whilst this sense may not appear within her later Moradas, the
superior recollective capacity of the will in this state could be seen to speak to passive recollection as
a distancing of those more central faculties (the will and spirit) from their more external counterparts.
A similar sense can also be uncovered in Hollenback’s assertion that the will is so tied to the Divine
that it is able to ignore her two neighbouring faculties;821 this power to ignore is not absolute,
Teresa’s memory and understanding have potential here to disturb the “will’s joyful absorption in
God” if it chooses to pay attention to the “noise” these faculties make in their meditative
wandering. 822 Whilst Teresa calls this a state of pure contemplation (“pura contemplación”), it is
important to note that this is not a state of true union;823 here the faculties are not yet united in Him,
but gaze toward Him astonishment.824
There is a common sense that within the fifth moradas Teresa attempts to navigate at least
two forms of union. Here Howells uncovers two modes of union, unión regalada (“delightful union”)
819 “Como la voluntad está unida con Dios, no se pierde la quietud y el sosiego, antes ella poco a poco torna a
recoger el entendimiento y memoria.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 88.
820 “Ansí que si sintiendo en sí esta oración, que es un contento quieto y grande de la voluntad y sosegado.” Teresa
de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 367.

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and unión verdadera (“true union”). 825 The former is a brief state of delicious absorption in the
Divine in which “cut[s] the soul off from exterior activity, giving it a ‘painful desire to leave this
world’;”826 this mystical state combines pain and pleasure, signifying the instance in which the soul
comes to fully taste delight of Divine and is filled with a morbid desire for permanent union. Here
she is dead to the world, both senses and faculties are asleep, dormant in a state of sweet death (una
muerta sabrosa).827 Alternatively, unión verdadera – which Frohlich argues such “delightful union”
proceeds - is not achieved through any mystical gustos or Divine interaction, but through one’s own
effort to actively resign to the will of God.828 For Howells, this is a truly Christological state, in
which the soul “attains Christ in its active works,” a peaceful, and stable union in which the soul
walks with Christ and the pains and passions of human nature do not disturb the soul at its corps.829
Hollenback’s description of the Prayer of Union closely echoes Howells’s vision of union
regalada, that mystical state in which all Teresa’s faculties cease to function. 830 Here the
understanding continues to move but it does not know how to understand that which it sees, it
continues to revolve but it never arrives at any understanding;831 as Hollenback states, “the naked act
of perception persists” but power of the understanding fails, it is simply stunned.832 Here all faculties
and senses are now temporarily engulfed in the Divine, their powers are lost and not one of them can
disturb the stunned sensation of the soul.833 Here the Beloved impresses a sign of His presence, a
827 “Hasta el amar, si lo hace, no entiende cómo, ni qué es lo que ama, ni que querría; en fin como quien de todo
punto ha muerto al mundo para vivir más en Dios, que ansí es una muerte sabrosa, un arrancamiento del alma de
todas las operaciones que puede tener, estando en el cuerpo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 509.
828 Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 207; Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila,
106-7.
833 “Ni hay imaginación, ni memoria, ni entendimiento que pueda impedir este bien.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 509.
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sensible certainty that He was with(in) her(self). 834 This certainty cannot be seen nor heard, not even
understood, nor does it take any corporeal form; 835 yet she can ‘feel’ beyond doubt He was there.
Similarly, Hollenback distinguishes this from ‘true union,’ as a non-mystical yet superior and
more spiritually valuable state, the perfect conformation of the will to that of the Divine through
active works which can be achieved by any Christian in their natural state.836
Están casi de el todo unidas las potencias, mas no tan engolfadas que no obren… Sólo tienen
habilidad las potencias para ocuparse todas en Dios.837
Yet Hollenback also introduces a third state into the progression of the fifth moradas that precedes
the delectable and true unions, ‘the sleep of faculties.’838 Whilst she highlights that a state of this
name does not occur within the castle – despite taking up two chapters of Teresa’s Vida -,
Hollenback includes its analysis as the logical intermediary between the Prayer of Quiet and the
higher unions of the castle;839 it signifies a state in which all the faculties momentarily cease to
function, they are not lost but do not know how to continue working. In particular, “the will is
completely occupied in God and cannot – even if it wishes – occupy itself with anything but Him.”840
834 “Ya veis esta alma que la ha hecho Dios bova del todo para imprimir mejor en ella la verdadera sabiduría, que ni
ve ni oye ni entiende en el tiempo que esta ansí… fija Dios a sí mesmo en lo interior de aquel alma de manera que,
cuando torna en sí, en ninguna manera pueda dudar que estuvo en Dios y Dios en ella.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 510.”
835 “No os havéis de engañar pareciéndoos que esta certidumbre queda en forma corporal, como el cuerpo de
nuestro Señor Jesucristo está en el Santísimo Sacramento, aunque no le vemos; porque acá no queda ansí, sino de
sola la divinidad. Pues ¿cómo lo que no vimos se nos queda con esa certidumbre?” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
511. Robert Kralj has explored the notion of ‘certainty’ (certeza) in Teresa’s writing in significant Depth. See:
Robert Kralj, “El problema de la certeza en la experiencia mística de Santa Teresa” (PhD diss., Universidad de
Salamanca, 2014).
836 Jess Byron Hollenback, Mysticism: Experience, Response and Empowerment, 544-5. Frohlich makes a similar
connection between the fifth moradas experience of union and the complete surrender of the will to the Divine.
See Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 207.
837 “My faculties were almost all united, but not so absorbed that they did not function… they only had the
capacity to occupy themselves entirely in God.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 93.
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Here the faculties are not wholly engulfed in Him, but rather are so tied to Him that their only
function can be to be occupied in Him.841
Thus, the unitive states of the fifth moradas are not entirely mystical but mark the final steps
towards achievement of spiritual perfection. This perfection itself does not necessarily involve any
mysticality but is wholly dependent upon the conforming of the will in perfect likeness to that of the
Divine. It indicates the becoming of a true likeness of Christ, a walking with Him in the world in a
parallel or mirroring union. As Frohlich argues, it is “in a certain sense … the end of the journey,” an
arrival at perfection from which the following moradas mark differing degrees union and unitive
stability.842
All three faculties ascend to the penultimate realms, but the rapturous experiences of her
desposorio espiritual (spiritual betrothal) can only occur once they have all been lost in the Prayer of
Union. As Hollenback highlights, it is here that the crippling transformation of Teresa’s
entendimiento climaxes in the transition from Prayer of Union to the spiritual betrothal of the sixth
moradas.843 Yet before this betrothal, Teresa dedicates much of these sixth moradas to the sensory
awakening of the soul by her Lord as He calls her closer to His self and her perceptions of Him
intensify: He calls out to her from within and without, makes His presence felt through something
like a smell that touches all her senses.844

842 Mary Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 210, 182.
844 “También suele nuestro Señor tener otras maneras de despertar el alma, que a deshora, estando rezando
vocalmente y con descuido de cosa interior, parece viene una inflamación deleitosa, como si de presto viniese un
olor tan grande que se comunicase por todos los sentidos (no digo que es olor, solo pongo esta comparación, o
cosa de esta manera) solo para dar a sentir que está allí el Esposo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 530-1.
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Su Majestad la despierta, a manera de una cometa que pasa de presto, o un trueno, aunque
ni se ve luz ni se oye ruido, mas entiende muy bien el alma que fue llamada de Dios, … Siente
ser herida sabrosísimamente, mas no atina cómo ni quién la hirió.845
This awakening also hints at a touch. It is not the feel of His form in/on hers, but, rather like the
certainty of previous moradas, it is a form of meditated tangibility, this time in pain. He calls to her,
awakening her without sound but with the speed of a comet. Yet this call leaves her deliciously
wounded (herida sabrosísimamente), both tasting and (almost) touched or (almost) touching His
presence. Furthermore, although she now experiences a transient union or proximity with her
Beloved, she feels the lack of Him more intensely, she burns with desire for Him in a pain that is so
flavourful it is almost not a pain at all.
The climactic feature of these sixth moradas is that ecstatic flight of her spirit into the arms
of her Beloved. Hollenback locates the complete conformity of the will, the arrival at true union
(verdadera union) and spiritual perfection within the fifth moradas.846 However when considered in
the context of a progressive weakening of the will in order to liberate the espiritu from its soul-full
bonds and allow it to fly into the arms of the Beloved, it seems perhaps more appropriate to mark this
as the point of transition between the fifth and sixth moradas. Their mystical will-union begins
within the fourth moradas, and Teresa’s will is increasingly weakened as it moves within itself until
finally it is exchanged for His and she crosses the threshold into this last realm before His. It is here,
I would argue, we find the climax of her will-stripping which Howells ties to the third moradas.847
Furthermore, Hollenback’s analysis of this will-union falters on one fundamental distinction. As the
845 “His Majesty wakes her, like a comet that flashes past, or a clap of thunder, although she sees no light nor hears
any sound, rather the soul understands that she is called by God, and this is so understood, that sometimes –
especially in the beginning – it makes her tremble and cry out, yet it is not something that hurts her. She feels
deliciously wounded, though she cannot understand how or by whom she was injured.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 529.
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will becomes increasingly weakened and filled with divine love, she argues that Teresa “instinctively
conformed [her] actions and [her] intentions exclusively to God’s will just as though God’s will had
been [her] own.”848 Whilst this correctly reflects the soul’s preparation for ultimate matrimonial
union, in this betrothal exchange it is not “as though God’s will has been [her] own;”849 rather she
extinguishes her own and takes His in its place - “her will and that of the Father are one.”850
As her will is increasingly weakened, Teresa’s spirit can be released from the encircling
function of that penultimate crystalline realm; here it can begin to experience the ecstatic flight as the
Divine draws her into His self away from the rest of the soul. Although her other two faculties may
arrive within this realm they are left behind in rapture. It is here that Teresa mentions the loss of her
ability to read, speaking to this realm as an experience of the spirit at a distance from the outer coils
of the soul;851 that which occurs here does so beyond her understanding. Although it appears to be
also at some distance, the events of her ecstasy can come to touch upon Teresa’s memory through
imaginary visions. These revelations of His divine secrets occur during the flights of the soul and
impress themselves upon the surface of her memory, not to be traced by the understanding in that
moment, but visible after the fact.852
Quiere ya nuestro buen Dios quitarla las escamas de los ojos y vea y entienda algo de la
merced que le hace. 853
850 “Su voluntad y la de su Padre era una.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 378. This phrasing is taken
from the Codices de el Escorial.

851 “Pues si se quiere tomar un libro de romance, persona que le sabía bien leer le acaecía no entender más de él
que si no supiera letra, porque no estava el entendimiento capaz.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 527.
852 Cuando, estando el alma en esta suspensión, el Señor tiene por bien demonstrarle algunos secretos, como de
cosas del cielo y visiones imaginaries, esto sábelo después decir.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 537.
853 “Now our Lord desires to remove the scales from our eyes and that the soul sees and understands something of
the favour He performs upon it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 568.
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In this state the Divine also speaks to her though intellectual visions, but although, like her imaginary
visions, these occur in and through her spirit, they are utterly beyond the realms of her other
faculties; they do not function in terms of image or word and as such are beyond the comprehension
of her quasi-corporeal soul.854 These are visions beyond the visual, as Teresa is now pressed to Him
in spirit and as such there is no void to traverse through representation. 855 Here the scales are
removed from her eyes and she comes to ‘see’ her self and Him, in Him, as Him. Her spiritual
blindness is transformed and He carves within her a revelatory understanding that functions beyond
the realm of her own understanding. Here Teresa follows Augustine’s sense of sight and
illumination, not only as a means of making visible the process of cognition, but also insofar as this
interior sight culminates at an ecstatic arrival beyond that very sensory capacity. 856
Whilst these rapturous ecstasies are only brief moments of spiritual embrace, within the
seventh moradas Teresa’s spirit becomes permanently united with(in) the espíritu increado of the
Divine. Her spirit is the only entity that may enter this realm, simultaneously His dwelling and its
very own; the entendimiento is left to peer, like a peeping Tom, through a crack in the wall, only ever
catching a disorientating glimpse at the marital union (matrimonio espiritual) that takes place.857
Marguerite Porete alludes to a similar sentiment in the seven stages of her soul’s annihilation. In the
sixth stage she speaks of how the Divine offers the soul an aperture through which it may glimpse the
glory of their never-ending union which will be achieved in the seventh stage (death).858 Like Teresa,
here she speaks to a sight of ultimate mystical union from the penultimate stage of the soul’s
transformation which the soul is unable to perceive or describe given the glory of its experience.
854 “Pues si no tienen imagen ni las entienden las potencias, ¿cómo se pueden acordar?” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 537.
855 This is outlined in more detail in chapter 1.
856 Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in Christian Mysticism,” 161.
857 “Que el Señor que le crió le quiere sosegar aquí, y que por una resquicia pequeña mire lo que pasa.” Teresa de

858 Marguerite Porete, The Mirror of Simple Souls, 138.
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Unlike Marguerite, however, Teresa ascends to that seventh stage (moradas) in life and tastes that
ultimate union in spirit before death which marks the union of the whole soul with her Beloved.
Additionally, not only does this aspect of the entendimiento’s role within the final realms of the
castle further imply its function via gaze/image, like Marguerite this is not a permanent state of
ecstasy. Teresa does experience a long-lasting sensation of His presence beside her, but her spirit
‘returns’ to itself to carry out His will through active works. She may still experience raptures, He
may still draw her to Him with such intensity that she is almost drawn from herself, but she is now
transformed into Him; that vital part of her self remains at one with that vital part of Him.
Whilst this thesis argues that Teresa’s mystical praxis and resulting transformation functions
as a mode of seeing/understanding the Divine behind the text, this reconstruction of her castle
demonstrates that such understanding occurs primarily beyond the function of her entendimiento.
Despite its central role in meditation, this practice incapacitates the faculty so that that in the prayer
states that follow its function is inherently lax or non-existent.859 As such, whilst Kralj underlines that
Teresa’s is a quest for true self-knowledge, a perfect seeing of her self through His self, it is also an
unknowing, just as Tyler highlights; an unknowing to know, a shedding of the discursive/intellectual
faculty in order to understand (Him) without the understanding.860 Therefore, Teresa’s recogimiento,
arguably an emulation of Osuna’s understanding without the understanding, comes to signify a
progression of the soul through itself in which the spirit is separated or released from the encircling
cognitive faculties.861
859 “Han de procurar tratar de la vida de Cristo, y cánsase el entendimiento en esto.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de
laVida,”72.
860 For example, see: Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse, 281.
861 “Then, too, he understands, without understanding the source of his understanding, many things in Scripture
previously not understood.” Francisco de Osuna, The Third Spiritual Alphabet, 321.
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Ya mi alma la despertó él Señor … me havía hecho sentimiento, y no quiere su Majestad que
se torne à cegar.862
Yet this is not only a progression through the faculties but a sensory awakening towards the interior,
a progression through her senses which transforms them towards Divine perception. Despite her
emphasis on image and vision, this is not just a sight of His presence, but a taste, a smell, a sound and
an almost touch of Him; the Beloved calls to her through each of her senses. And this rousing of the
self from a state of interior insensibility continues throughout the castle and culminates in a state that
is beyond sight, beyond sense. Just as she begins that inward recollective turn with through
pensamiento/entendimiento and ascends to a state beyond her understanding, she begins from
blindness and ascends to a state beyond the function of sight. Given her rhetoric of illumination,
however, are these not one and the same?
Summary
Therefore, we have two concurrent transformations within Teresa’s soul-castle. Firstly, this
movement through active towards passive recollection embodied a sense of deconstruction or
shedding in which the soul, guided by the spirit, moves through its own structure and progressively
surpasses its own faculties in order to release the spiritual self from the encircling, quasi-corporeal
realms of the soul. In active recollective praxis the faculties’ attention is turned inwards, quietened as
they transition into the realms of a divinely inspired recollected-ness in which they progressively lose
their function; the spirit increasingly moves beyond or ‘sheds’ the realms of each faculty until finally
it is released and the Divine sweeps her up and transforms her into Him self. This shedding always
already constitutes a progression towards perfection in which the likeness of soul is increasingly re-
shaped into that of Divine. This re-formation primarily occurs through the conformation of the will,
862“Now the Lord has awakened my soul … He has made me feel, and His Majesty does desire I return to
blindness.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 228.
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through which spiritual perfection is achieved on two levels: firstly, a perfect mirroring of this will-
reflection in Christ achieved without mystical intervention. Secondly, upon achieving the latter,
Teresa alludes to a mystical union of the wills in which her will-image is replaced by that of the
Divine. In this final will-full exchange, she moves beyond reflective likeness and moves towards the
final stages of the castle within which she is spiritually undone within her Beloved, the Creator of the
image itself. Thus, a tangible sense of image-perfection emerges through the transformation of each
faculty in its image or image-making function, almost in order for Teresa (as spirit) to pass through
that image and onto the next image-centric realm.
Simultaneously, recollection functions as an awakening of Teresa’s sensory capacity within
the soul. Beginning from a stagnant state of spiritual blindness, she is progressively (a)roused
towards the presence of the Beloved within the castle who calls her to join Him. Despite her
infamous visions and reliance upon textual imagery, this spiritual awakening touches all her senses,
she smells, tastes, hears and is even almost touched by His presence. Yet just as her ascension
towards that of ultimate spiritual union climaxes in a spiritual dissolution beyond the realms of her
faculties, mystical matrimony also transcends the very sensory capacity through which she ascended.
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Chapter 5: The senso-reality of Teresa’s mysticism
Teresa appears to outline a soul constructed by or with an interior sensory capacity, a sensibility in
the mirror of the body. As she wanders through her self-castle she sees, smells, hears, tastes, and is
touched by some hint of the Beloved within, and such sensory capacity undergoes its own (a)rousing
transformation in parallel to her faculties. Whilst this recollective (a)rousing is inherently tied to sight
in its initiation and climax, the textual imagery through which she constructs her transformation is
not purely visual, she also touches upon smell, taste and sound: the soul is the visual castle, but this
castle-image is also a savoury palmito.863 This “feast for the senses” not only describes her
experience as multisensory, but that practice of recollection at its root is a call to see and feel.864
Sentía que andava al lado derecho, mas no con estos sentidos que podemos sentir que está
cabe nosotros una persona; porque es por otra vía más delicada.865
This five-fold senso-reality of her soul has distinct corporeal reflections, yet like Bernardino da Siena
and many other of her mystical predecessors, Teresa’s interior sensing is more perfect, more delicate
than its corporeal counterpart. 866 Whilst it is arguably unclear to what extent Teresa was familiar
with doctrines or theories of the spiritual senses, it is not unlikely that some sense of soul’s sensory
capacity trickled down to her through her “voracious” reading. 867
Paternal Reflections
Alongside his contribution to that orig(e)nal sense of the mystical, it was Origen “who put the
spiritual senses at the center of Christian mystical discourse,” his commentary on the Song of Songs

866 Bernardino da Siena, Prediche volgari sul Campo, ed. Carlo Delcorno (Milan: Rusconi, 1989), 148.
867 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 74, 61; Gillian Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics of
Sanctity, 29.
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sparking a longstanding entanglement between scripture, sense, and experience. 868 Echoing the inner-
outer division promoted by Paul, Origen holds that “every member of the external human being is
also called the same thing in the inner human being.”869 The human being consists of two distinct
sensory capacities, the exterior directed towards material objects, and the interior orientated towards
spiritual perception. Whilst she may never mention this mystical father by name, there is some
reflection of this interior mirroring in Teresa’s (a/i)llusions to five interior senses and in her
description of the soothing constriction of the inner and outer (hu)man in the Prayer of Quiet.870
Throughout her corpus Teresa unfurls her soul with some sensible agency that mirrors that of the
body.
Despite this corporeal reflection within Origen’s doctrine of spiritual interior, he argues that
“sensory language is ultimately inappropriate” to/for the transcendent Divine. 871 Yet this
inappropriate approach maintains a hierarchical structure: sight and hearing, tied to
ancient/Aristotelian notions of intellect and wisdom, rank high above taste and touch which are
belittled for their bodily implications.872 Given this corporeal impropriety, Origen’s use of sensory
language is largely metaphorical, sight speaks to the process of “drawing some intellectual
conclusion;”873 once again, seeing is understanding. Yet Mark McInroy highlights a sensory fluidity
869 Corinthians 4.16; Patricia Dailey, “The Body and its Senses,” 264-5; Mark J. McInroy, “Origen of Alexandria,” in
The Spiritual Senses: Perceiving God in Western Christianity, eds. Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah Coakley (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2011), 21, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CBO9781139032797.
870 “Parece que todo el hombre interior y esterior conhorta, como si le echasen en los tuétanos una unción
suavísima, a manera de un gran olor, que si entrásemos en una parte de presto donde le huviese grande, no de
una cosa sola, sino muchas, y ni sabemos qué es ni dónde está aquel olor, sino que nos penetra todos.” Teresa de
Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 450.
871 Gordon Rudy, The Mystical Language of Sensation in the Later Middle Ages (New York: Routledge, 2002), 3-4,
872 Gordon Rudy, The Mystical Language of Sensation in the Later Middle Ages, 4; Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah
Coakley, “Introduction,” The Spiritual Senses: Perceiving God in Western Christianity, eds. Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah
Coakley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 8, https://doi-
org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CBO9781139032797.
873 Mark J. McInroy, “Origen,” 23.
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within Origen, a multiplicity to his use of sensory language. 874 Origen’s spiritual senses may also be
analogous, and at times he refers to one divine sense, and at others to multiple.875 As we will see for
Teresa, it is this inherent fluidity and multiplicity within sensory language which makes its exact
significance hard to untangle.876
Whilst Teresa may never have come face-to-page with Origen, his conception of spiritual
sensation permeates much of her medieval inheritance. 877 Moreover, a very similar sense emerges
within Augustine. Both mystical fathers endow their souls not only with a sensory capacity mirroring
the body but allude to the sensory organs through which they perceive the Divine. Origen’s soul
extends to nostrils which smell the stench of sin, Augustine’s heart has eyes, limbs, a nose, and
tongue upon which to taste.878 In particular, his memory marks that most “nutritive element,”
functioning “like a stomach, distilling the inner from the outer;” 879 within this consumption from
exterior to interior, “sensing is converted into knowing or striving for the inner spiritual life.”880
Whilst she may echo their five interior senses, Teresa, however, does not appear to endow said soul
with a fully formed sensory system in the anatomical mirror of the body. She may repeatedly call to
‘los ojos del alma’, and occasionally the ‘ears of the soul,’ but she offers no spiritual tongue upon
which to taste, or nose to smell.881 However, her image of a soul in sin in first moradas evokes a

876 “Christian vocabulary of non-physical perception is extremely fluid.” Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah Coakley,
“Introduction,” 2.
877 Gordon Rudy, The Mystical Language of Sensation in the Later Middle Ages, 1.
878 For example, see: Augustine, Confessions, 281-2. See also: Patricia Dailey, “The Body and Its Senses,” 264; Mark
J. McInroy, “Origen,” 22; Mathew R. Lootens, “Augustine,” in The Spiritual Senses: Perceiving God in Western
Christianity, eds. Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah Coakley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 61, https://doi-
879 Patricia Dailey, “The Body and Its Senses,” 264.
881 “Es tan en lo íntimo del alma y parécele tan claro oír aquellas palabras con los oídos del alma a el mesmo
Señor.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 534.
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quasi-orig(e)n-al smell when she describes the tree of the soul planted in stagnant odorous waters.882
Thus, just as her soul’s corporeality lacks the anatomical specificity of Laredo, its sensory capacity
has a similar sense of indistinct interiority.
Augustine also mirrors Origen’s multiplicity. His interior sensation is not only more perfect
but is characterised by a sensory unity in which the Divine “becomes a polymorphous sensory object
that fulfils everything that the soul needs and desires.”883 His interior senses may have some
reflective corporeal connection, but they have a far greater sense of reciprocity amongst themselves,
and this is reflected by Teresa. Furthermore, there are strong ties between the narrative of
Augustine’s conversion and Teresa’s recollection. As Mathew Lootens highlights, his Confessions
offer a retelling of that mystical conversion as “the move from the outer, fragmented perception of
the world to an inner, stable perception of God. In moving inwards, the bodily senses are not rejected
but placed under the subordinating control of reason and judgement, so that created things are no
longer confused with their creator.”884 Similarly, Teresa’s recollection implies an awakening of the
senses towards the interior, a re-orientation toward the Divine within which climaxes in a state of
seeing Him in everything and everything in Him. As we shall come to see, this is not any ‘shedding’
of her corporeal senses, but rather a re-orientation of perception that quietens external distractions
and seeks to focus her ‘gaze’ upon the Beloved at her centre.
Whilst she may not share in their spiritual anatomy, this sense of recollective ‘awakening’
serves to illuminate further patristic reflections. Like Augustine, Teresa’s soul initiates its inward
journey from a state of sensory deprivation. Similarly, the (a)rousing of this interior sense capacity
climaxes in the sixth moradas where she is deliciously wounded as He makes Himself known to her
882 “Ansí el alma que por su culpa se aparta desta fuente y se planta en otra de muy negrísima agua y de muy mal
olor.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 475-6.
883 Mathew R. Lootens, “Augustine,” 63.
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through sound and vision: the Shepherd calls her closer, and through mystical sight(s) she begins to
understand Him. Those first revelations of Wisdom occur through sight and sound, and Kristeva
crowns hearing the “most intellectual of the senses.”885 Given Teresa furnishes her soul with only
eyes and ears, one could consider such anatomy as (a/i)lluding to the importance of these means of
perceiving Him. She does not appear to call to these as explicit constituent parts of the soul, rather
her eyes and ears are directed towards engaging the reader in the embodied practice of recogimiento.
As such, the emphasis within Teresa’s sensory progression through the castle lies upon function,
upon the awakening of a sensory capacity of the soul to receive Divine presence.
These patristic sensory orig(e)ns are interwoven into the medieval tradition from which
Teresa emerges, interior sensoriality comes to speak to a mode of spiritual understanding “that does
not assume absolute knowledge of the divine but does know something of the divine.”886 Such
sensuous Divine understanding remains inherently ingrained in Scripture particularly through
Orig(e)n for whom such knowledge is “illuminated” by the interior senses in scriptural reading. 887 In
the words of E. Ann Matter, Scripture offers “the map of divine reality and therefore the means
through which that reality was revealed to human consciousness,” a reality that is both inherently
textual and sensorial.888 Perhaps the most plentiful source for such sensuous interpretation is found in
the Song of Songs whose dialogic and desirous words “provided an extraordinarily rich ground for
the elaboration of allegory,” offering a threshold onto exploration of vast realms of Truth concealed
within the romance of the text.889 Beginning from Origen, commentaries on the Song flourish
throughout the Christian tradition, the most renowned being Bernard’s extended sermons in the

888 E. Ann Matter, The Voice of My Beloved: the Song of Songs in western medieval Christianity (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), 7,

889 E. Ann Matter, The Voice of My Beloved, 10.
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twelfth-century. Yet whilst a tangible sense of the Songs appears throughout the writings of many
female medieval writers, it is not until Teresa in the latter half of the sixteenth century that the Song
finds any ‘official’ female exegesis. As McGinn highlights, female mystics’ appropriation of
scripture differs from that of their male counterparts as their exclusion of scriptural commentary “ex
oficio” left them to “use the liber scripturae … by way of illustration and secondary conformation,
not as the essential context of their presentation of mystical consciousness.”890 Yet in Teresa’s
Meditaciones sobre los Cantares we find a striking exception to this pattern, a direct defiance of the
ruling against female exegesis. This short (and short-lived) text arguably sought to avoid such
censure by offering some thoughts upon the understanding of the Songs given to her by the Beloved,
but only upon five sections of the text that form part of the Roman Breviary. 891 Whilst this is
arguably not enough to protect her (text) from the dangers of exegetical commentary, Teresa is
ordered to burn it in 1580, it is possible to read the surviving text as a description of her own
sensorially driven use of the Song, and by extension her sensory relationship to (scriptural) text.
Having laid some sensory foundations, this chapter suggests an alternative understanding to
her use of spiritual sensation. Considering the recollective rousing of her senses and the inherent
corporeality of her soul, I propose a singular pattern of interior-exterior sensation through which
Teresa regresses throughout the castle. Through a close reading of her Meditaciones, this sensory
unity is intensified by tracing Teresa’s sensory relationship to (w/W)ord and text which climaxes in a
touch beyond touching. However, I would preface this chapter with a caveat: it is not my intention to
construct any fully-formed Teresian doctrine of soul or spiritual sensation. Unlike many studies of
the spiritual senses in the works of spiritual writers, I do not wish to straighten her out, to construct
some underlying sensorial system that underpins her entire corpus. Rather this chapter seeks to trace
891 Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 421.
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the form of patterns within her (a/i)llusions, to unfold, extend, unravel the potential significance of
her use of sensory imagery. As with her psychological structure of the soul there is always a
vagueness, a veil of obfuscation that should not be lifted even when seeking to untangle the function
of her sensory perception of the Divine. To fully untangle, to make concrete and systematic
assumptions as to her meaning would be inappropriate and risks damaging the relationship between
her writing and experience.892 Rather I propose to use her imagery in order to deconstruct the patterns
of her (a/i)llusions in the hope of illuminating some suggestion of their function without
reconstructing them into any clear concrete systematisation. This does not however, preclude us from
questioning the form, function, and significance of such a sensory (non)system.
In one sense (or two?)
Where her castle offers a sense of recollective awakening, a similar sense progression emerges in her
Camino where recollection can be read as a regression inward through the senses. Before one can
move within oneself and wander through the castle, one must shut off the external senses to instigate
that recollective turn from exterior to interior.
Recogiendo sus sentidos a sí memos… un retirarse los sentidos de estas cosas esteriores y
darles de tal manera de mano, que - sin entenderse - se le cierran los ojos por no las ver,
porque más se despierte la vista a los ojos del alma.893
892 Alison Weber argues for Teresa’s Las Moradas as a “rhetoric of obfuscation” in which there is a gap or
miscorrelation between literal signifiers and signifieds which develops a sense that that which Teresa experiences
is inherently tied to, but beyond, that which she writes/says. Here I appropriate Weber’s obfuscation to speak to
Teresa’s writing as a continuous encircling of the point (of what she truly wants to say) without ever explicitly or
literally describing her experience. See Alison Weber, Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity, 98-122. I will
explore this further in the final chapter. For now, this statement serves to underline the illusive, irregular, and
often frustratingly vague nature of Teresa’s writing and the vitality of this to her mysticism.
893 “Recollecting their senses towards themselves … a withdrawal of the senses from these things of the world and
helping them in such a way that – without any understanding – they close their eyes to the things of the world, so
that the interior gaze of the soul may be better awakened.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 351. This
comment only occurs within the Codices de Valladolid.
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Teresa often paints this in-turning as the movement of the corporeal eyes inwards, an in-volution of
the gaze tied to the pensamiento. To enter through the doors of prayer and meditation is to turn one’s
ability to see within, to move through the body, place one’s eyes upon the soul and envision the
Beloved upon the cross.894
Luego éstos, si aman, pasan por los cuerpos y ponen los ojos en las almas y miran si hay
qué amar.895
Recogimiento emerges as a movement of the corporeal senses away from the external realm, through
the body and towards the interior of the soul. A strong reciprocity emerges between Teresa’s outer
and inner sensory capacities, one that seemingly goes beyond the traditional divided yet analogous
relationship between exterior and interior. 896 Yet whilst Teresa never seemingly constructs a clear
system of interior sense perception explicitly distinct from her body, Howells and Kralj both argue
that Teresa presents two separate sets of senses.897
Parece ella tiene allá otros sentidos, como acá los esteriores, que ella en sí parece se quiere
apartar de los bullicios esteriores.898
Drawing from her Cuentas, Howells argues that Teresa’s recollection uses “other senses” to
withdraw within itself and to engage in a communication with the Divine in which it cannot see,
hear, or understand anything but Him.899 Teresa rarely makes any distinction directly between
894 “Poned los ojos en el Crucificado, y haráseos todo poco.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 580. This sentiment
appears in both the Codices de el Escorial and the Codices de Valladolid. This particular phrasing it taken from the
Codices de Valladolid.
895 Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 265. “Then these, if they love, proceed through the body and place
their eyes in their soul and see if there is something to love;”

896 See Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in Christian Mysticism,” 161.
897 Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila, 74-5; Robert Kralj, “Importancia de los sentidos
espirituales en Santa Teresa de Jesús,” in Filosofía, Arte y Mística: XXV y XXVI Encuentros Internacionales, eds.
María del Carmen Paredes Martín and Enrique Bonete Perales (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 2015), 303;
898 “It seems as though there she has other senses, like those in the exterior, that she seems to want to distance
herself from the noise of the exterior.” Teresa de Jesús, “Cuentas de Conciencia,” 625.
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whether a sensation is felt exteriorly or interiorly, and the quote above is one of the only instances
where she addresses the dilemma directly. Although this indistinction is not un-Teresian and could be
taken as an assumption that the reader will automatically consider such sensory references as those of
the soul, when considered in the context of her corporeally encrypted soul it may be possible to trace
a glimpse of another, more unified or reciprocal, pattern of sensation within the soul-body.
Teresa’s soul extends entwined and encrypted throughout her body to such an extent that the
experiences of her transformation touch her external realms, that corporeal cerca of the castle: the
permeating sweet and smooth unction of the Prayer of Quiet floods her interior architecture and
overflows into the corporeal realm, and occasionally the call of His voice in the sixth moradas is so
strong it touches the ears of the body.900 These indistinct senses are the inhabitants of her castle, that
castle that is both soul and body.901 Her inhabitants may roam throughout the structure, experiencing
an awakening within the castle walls, but also able to return to the outer exterior realm.
Se han ido fuera y andan con gente extraña, enemiga del bien de este castillo.902
They may instigate her in-tur(n)ing, but Teresa’s senses may also return to a space beyond the walls
of the castle, distracted from their search for the Divine within. Whilst this echoes Augustine’s
“subordinating” the corporeal senses, one could also envision Teresa’s senses as more of a
continuum than two separate entities.903 The turn away from the exterior world is not a turn away
900 “en aquel ensanchamiento; que ansí parece que como comienza a producir aquella agua celestial de este
manantial que digo de lo profundo de nosotros, parece que se va dilatando y ensanchando todo nuestro interior y
produciendo unos bienes que no se pueden decir, ni aun el alma sabe entender qué es los que se la da allí.” Teresa
de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 500; “unas hablas con el alma, de muchas maneras; unas parece vienen de fuera, otras de
lo muy interior del alma, otras de lo superior de ella, otras tan en lo esterior, que se oyen con los oídos, porque
parece voz formada.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 531.
901 “Hagamos cuenta que estos sentidos y potencias que ya he dicho, que son la gente de este castillo - que es lo
que he tomado para saber decir algo -, que se han ido fuera y andan con gente extraña, enemiga del bien de este
castillo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 502.
902 “They have gone outside and walk with strangers, enemies of the good of the castle.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 502.
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from her body and its exterior senses as it is for Osuna, but a redirection of her inhabitants towards
the interior. Although this is performed by a closing of the external sensory organ, what is described
is rather a turning of the agency of sight inwards in a re-orientation of the gaze: “Poned los ojos en
vos y miraos interiormente.”904
This sense is further intensified by her call to recogimiento as a recollection of the senses to
themselves or to the self, a taking advantage of the senses for the interior (aprovecharse de sus
sentidos para lo interior) and a re-collecting themselves into her.905 As such, it becomes increasingly
tempting to envision Teresa as speaking to only one set of senses, a continuum of sensory capacity
within the soul-body. Whilst this sensory conception appears at odds with her mystical fathers,
McGinn highlights how “the sharp distinction” diminishes in the writings of many later medieval
mystics belying a “movement from the mystical language of the spiritual senses to mystical language
of embodied sensation.”906 Through Bernard of Clairvaux he demonstrates how perception of Divine
presence becomes inscribed and felt in the “book of experience” (liber experiential). 907 This
corporeal sensory reciprocity is particularly tangible for Hadewijch whom Rudy argues “observes no
strong distinction between matter and spirit, soul and body.”908 At one point she describes a
eucharistic vision in which she is embraced by her Word-made-Flesh, feeling His form with all her
limbs;909 there is no distinction between inner and outer sensation, “she assumes that people know,
become like, and can be unified with God as an integrated whole, soul and body.”910 Similarly,

905 Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 358; “que en haciendo una seña no más que se quiere recoger, la
obedezcan los sentidos y se recojan a ella.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 352. Both statements only
occur within the Codices de Valladolid.
907 Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in Christian Mysticism,” 161-2; Bernard of Clairvaux,
Sermones in Cantica Canticorum, ed. Hugo. Hurter J. S. (London: Libraria Academica Wagneriana, 1888), 16.
909 Hadewijch, The Complete Works, 280-282.
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Acosta-García highlights a parallel prayer-full movement from the corporeal exterior, through the
mental interior towards the supernatural in the works of Angela of Foligno. 911
As Heather Webb outlines, the medieval senses were often considered to connect body and
soul, drawing information along their lines from exterior to interior, and vice versa, along “patterns
of circulation.”912 Teresa’s senses appear constructed in a very similar sense: the branches of her
sensory perception extend from interior to exterior and vice versa, drawing information (and her self)
from the exterior into the interior, and in turn making that which occurs within externally sensible.
The recollective path of her camino is performed along sensory lines, a continuous in-volution from
exterior to interior. Just as the hedgehog withdraws into the interior of itself, Teresa turns within and
draws herself into her centre, her senses shrinking inwards in a re-orientation toward the Beloved.913
Three centuries before Teresa, Marguerite d’Oignt writes of a vision in which she becomes a
tree upon the branches of which are engraved the names of the five senses, an image Bynum argues
is a “graphic illustration of the medieval conviction that those who love Christ should respond to all
of his body with all of theirs.”914 Similarly, echoing the arboreal tones of her Castilian mothers,
Teresa’s corpus repeatedly connects the image of the tree, the soul and its incarnational reality: at
times her Beloved upon the cross is the apple tree under whom she shelters;915 at others, her soul is
the tree of life, planted in the waters of life that are her God, the root from which all her good works
spring forth.916 I do not wish to imply that her tree(s) offer an image of the senses in the mirror of
911 Pablo Acosta-Garcia, ““Santas y Marcadas,” 146.

912 Heather Webb, The Medieval Heart (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 52, https://doi-
913 “Since my nerves were all shrunken.” Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 155. Here Kristeva alludes to Teresa de

915 “Cuando las obras activas salen de esta raíz, son admirables y olorosísimas flores; porque proceden de este
árbol de amor de Dios.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 465.
916 “Antes que pase adelante os quiero decir que consideréis qué será ver este castillo tan resplandeciente y
hermoso, esta perla oriental, este árbol de vida que esta plantado en las mesmas aguas vivas de la vida, que es
Dios, cuando cai en un pecado mortal.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 475.
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Marguerite, yet its form may help us to glimpse how she envisioned the form of her senses, her path
of recogimiento. The path of her soul-body in-tur(n)ing is performed along a “five-fold sensorium,” a
branching sensory network that ramifies throughout Teresa’s soul and body, entwining them
together.917 These senses extend throughout body and soul like the branches and roots of the tree,
both the means of recollecting her self and the path along which she must travel. Whilst recogimiento
may be initiated by a turn of the eyes inward, it is an in-volution of all her corporeal senses towards
the interior. This recollective process that is initially a si(gh)ting of the soul, is performed through a
singular sensory system, constructing a soul through each of the five shared senses.
Such (a)rousing re-orientation also implies transformation. If the soul and its faculties
experience a progressive transformation in its inward ascent, it would be logical to suggest that her
senses undergo a similar metamorphosis. To borrow from Niklaus Largier, Teresa’s awakening is a
transformative “de-naturalization of the senses” in prayerful practice and then a “re-naturalization”
through which is constructed an aesthetic mystical experience.918 The first three moradas involve
actively turning the senses toward the interior and led by sight they engage with the cross in the
battle against demons and distractions which seek to draw her out toward exterior concerns. Once
drawn into more central moradas this awakening continues towards a sense (of) perfection, her
capacity to perceive the Divine is improved, the ‘eyes’ of the soul see much more clearly, and her
senses function in a much more delicate way (otra vía más delicada).919
Sale el alma del crisol como el oro, más afinada y clarificada para ver en sí el Señor.920
917 Paul L. Gavrilyuk and Sarah Coakley, “Introduction,” 5.

918 Niklaus Largier, “Inner Senses - Outer Senses: The Practice of Emotions in Medieval Mysticism,” in Codierungen
Von Emotionen Im Mittelalter / Emotions and Sensibilities in the Middle Ages, ed. C. Stephen Jaeger and Ingrid
Kasten (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2003), 5, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110893977.
919 “Se ve con los ojos del alma muy mejor que acá vemos con los del cuerpo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
542.
920 “The soul leaves the crucible as gold, much purer and clearer in order to see the Lord in itself.” Teresa de Jesús,
243
Just as the form and function of the soul go beyond that of its bodily encryption, once turned within
their selves these senses transcend their previous capacity. Whilst her corpus is woven with images
of transformation, Teresa’s Vida echoes Ludolph’s purification of the “eyes of the heart” when she
speaks of the soul refined and clarified like gold in the crucible. 921 Thus one could envision how her
senses are cleansed in this transformation, the dust and scales removed from her eyes, her sensory
capacity “fine-tun[ed]” in recollection which calibrates “the outer according to the inner;”922 this re-
(trans)formation is tied to imitatio and aimed at developing the capacity to sense the immaterial
Divine.923
As such one could catch a glimpse, not of two separate sensory strands, but of a
transformation of the corporeal senses towards her interior along a pattern ramifying throughout the
soul-body structure. Their reorientation provokes a refining, awakening these senses to the presence
of her Beloved within the centre of her self. This soul-body reciprocity would serve to reconcile the
issue of how such supernatural sense perceptions can have corporeal and created form. In particular,
Howells’s argument for bodily and “nonbodily senses” highlights how imaginary visions are seen
‘with the eyes of the soul’ yet have “created images and bodily form.”924 Whilst he reconciles the
issue by underlining the supernatural source of these quasi-corporeal visions which “bypass[es]”
their natural form, one could suggest that such visions maintain corporeal forms because sight has a
fundamental and corporeal reciprocity.925 If Teresa re-orientates her singular sight towards the
interior, such seeing would understandably take a similarly image-based form whilst also being
Divine in origin. Similarly, in the intellectual visions that follow, the entire mechanism of sight itself
921 Ludolph of Saxony, The Life of Christ, chapter 33.

922 Patricia Dailey, “The Body and Its Senses,” 272, 266.
923 Patricia Dailey, “The Body and Its Senses,” 272, 266.
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is overcome by a glimpse (through) this Divine origin. Thus, the distinction could be seen to lie in
His in representation, not her perception.
A taste of understanding
Teresa’s Meditaciones, written only a few years before her castle, offer a sense of her experience in
which taste, not sight, comes to the surface; the five passages from the Songs upon which she turns
her gaze, all call to the mouth, to a sense of taste and flavour. 926 As we have seen, this hint of taste
emerges at times throughout her corpus when the blessings of the Divine are sweet (dulce), smooth
(suave), flavourful (sabrosa) sustenance for the soul. This subtle orality is intensified by the
connection that courses between the highest, most intense of these blessings and the reception of the
Eucharist. Throughout her obras Teresa speaks of variety of mystical prayer states that occur just as
she has received communion, just as she tastes the host in her mouth.927
In a monastic context, such oral fixation is not unusual; along with sight, taste was often
applied as a means of understanding the mystical meaning of the Word, and a myriad of gustatory
images emerge for the interpretation of Scripture: for Guigo II “reading (lectio), as it were, puts the
926 “A) «Béseme el Señor con el beso de su boca; porque más valen tus pechos que el vino» (MC 1-3).
Vulgata: «Osculetur me osculo oris sui; quia meliora sunt ubera tua vino» (Cant 1, 1).
Texto original (Serafín de Ausejo): «Bésame con los besos de tu boca. Tus amores son gustosos, más que el vino».
B) «Más valen tus pechos que el vino, que dan de sí frangrencia de muy buenos olores» (MC 4).
Vulgata: «Meliora sunt ubera tua vino, fragantia unguentis optimis» (Cant 1,1-2a).
Texto original (Serafín de Ausejo): «Tus perfumes son gratos al olfato; tu nombre, ungüento que se vierte».
C) «Sentéme a la sombra del que deseava, y su fruto es dulce para mi garganta” (MC 5).
Vulgata: «Sub umbra illius quem desideraveram sedi, et fructus euis dulcis gutturi meo» (Cant 2, 4).
Texto original (Serafín de Ausejo): «A su sombra he deseado sentarme, que su fruto me es sabroso al paladar».
D) «Metióme el Rey en la bodega del vino y ordenó en mí la caridad» (MC 6).
Vulgata: «Introduxit me in cella vinariam; ordinavit in me charitatem» (Cants 2, 4).
Texto original (Serafín de Ausejo): «Me introdujo en la bodega, su enseñó sobre mi es el amor».
E) «Sostenedme con flores y acompañadme con manzanas, porque desfallezco del mal de amores» (MC 7).
Vulgata: «Fulcite me floribus, stipate me malis, quia amore langueo» (Cant 2, 5).
Texto original (Serafín de Ausejo): «Confortadme con tortas de pasas, fortalecedme con manzanas, que estoy
enferma de amor».” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 421-2.
927 “Creo por la humildad que vuestra merced ha tenido en quererse ayudar de una simpleza tan grande como la
mía, me dio el Señor hoy, acabando de comulgar, esta oración, sin poder ir adelante, y me puso estas
comparaciones y enseñó la manera de decirlo y lo que ha de hacer aquí el alma.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la
Vida,” 93.
245
food whole into the mouth, meditating chews it and breaks it up, prayer extracts its flavour,
contemplation is the sweetness itself which gladdens and refreshes.”928 Gregory the Great similarly
speaks to such reading as process in which “the book which filled the innards (viscera) became as
sweet as honey in the mouth.”929 Bernard of Clairvaux echoes such flavour in describing Jesus’s
name as like honey in one’s mouth, and his own interpretation of the Songs shows a marked
orality:930 in Sermon 7 one must chew upon the psalm(s) in order to extract “the delicious flavour
that is sweeter than honey;”931 in Sermon 67 he speaks of belching of Scripture, a sense of verbal
incontinence as the Bride takes His words as her own expression of delight, a sentiment Teresa
appears to echo once transformed in(to) the Word.932 Given Bernard’s works were amongst those
translated and published under Cisneros, it is not unreasonable to imagine that Teresa had a least a
passing familiarity with his words.933 Furthermore, Carrera highlights this same entanglement of
taste, flavour and knowing in the works of Teresa’s Castilian Franciscan fathers like Laredo and
Osuna, for whom such experience has a particularly Christological connection. 934 Thus taste
performs an understanding of the mystical meaning beyond the words of scripture, a means of
ingesting and being sustained by the (W/w)ord made flesh. Whilst Teresa’s reference to the soul as
like a bee in the hive to speaks to the moradic and cellular nature of the soul, here it also marks the
928 Guigo II, The Ladder of Monks and Twelve Meditations, 82-3.
929 Gregory the Great, The Homilies of St. Gregory the Great on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, trans. Theodosia
Gray (Etna: Center for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies, 1990), 114.
930 This is mentioned in Ludolph of Saxony, The Life of Christ, chapter 10.
931 Bernard of Clairvaux, “Sermons on the Song of Songs,” in Bernard of Clairvaux: Selected Works, trans. G. R.
Evans (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1987), 117.

932 Bernard of Clairvaux, “Sermon 67,” in Œuvres de Sant Bernard, trans. M Armand Ravelet (Bar-le-Duc Louis
Guérin, 1870), 232-3. “Es tanto este sentimiento, que producen algunas veces unas palabras regaladas, que no se
pueden escusar de decir: ¡Oh, vida de mi vida y sustento que me sustentas!” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 572.
933 Gillian Ahlgren, Teresa of Avila and the Politics of Sanctity, 10; Melquiades Andrés Martín, La teología española
en el siglo VXI, 2 vols (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1976), 1:111. Bernard’s influence upon Teresa has
begun to be explored by Alyssa Janine Vanpopta, in terms of their shared employment/embodiment of the Bride
of the Song. See: Alyssa Janine Vanpopta, “Teresa of Avila ’s Bridal Spirituality in the context of the medieval
mystical tradition,” MA diss., (University of Fraser Valley, 2011), https://summit.sfu.ca/item/11785.
246
influence of this tradition: the soul must work at recogimiento like a bee continuously flying from
flower to flower in order to produce the honey of true self-knowledge.935
Similarly, her sacramental connection ties Teresa to many of her medieval mothers through
the body of the Eucharist. Bynum has demonstrated the particular femininity of their fascination with
Eucharistic consumption in the later Middle Ages, within which “to eat was a powerful verb. It
meant to consume, to assimilate, to become God. To eat God in the eucharist was a kind of audacious
deification, a becoming of the flesh.”936 Furthermore, for mystics like Hadewijch (and Teresa) there
was an inherent connection between the touch and taste of His flesh upon the tongue and the
visionary sight of their Beloved. Hadewijch’s mystical embrace is an inherently sacramental
encounter with the (Word made) Flesh; first He comes to her in bread and wine, before appearing
before her in the flesh and embracing her in a union in which she is unable to discern where she ends
and He begins.937 This sense of corporeal reciprocity, of “eating and being eaten,” is fundamentally a
question of desire, a co-consumption that (momentarily) fulfils the mystic’s desire to become (one
with) the Divine.938 Maria de Santo Domingo’s raptures were similarly sacramentally inspired, their
close relation to Communion functioning as a “sign of their authenticity, for God would never permit
so great an offense to himself.”939
Teresa’s corpus offers a parallel orality that entangles text and bread, word and flesh. Her
most explicit entanglement of textual, sacramental, and oral approaches to Divine union emerges
within her Vida where she conflates the reception of the Eucharist and the role of text.
935 “Que la humildad siempre labra como la abeja en la colmena la miel, que sin esto todo va perdido; mas
consideremos que la abeja no deja de salir a volar para traer flores.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 477.
936 Caroline Walker-Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 3, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1525/9780520908789. See

also: Caroline Walker-Bynum, “Women Mystics and Eucharistic Devotion in the Thirteenth Century,” 119-143.
937 Hadewijch, The Complete Works, 280-282.
938 Caroline Walker-Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 120.
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En todos éstos, si no era acabando de comulgar, jamás osava comenzar a tener oración sin
un libro; que tanto temía mi alma estar sin él en oración.940
Without the taste of the Host or a page of the (w/W)ord she dare to begin to pray for fear that He was
not with(in) her. Both her devotional reading and the Host provide her with a sense of His
presence;941 the taste of the word on the page, or the taste of Word (made flesh) in her mouth. Such
sentiment can be found in Augustine, for whom the sacrament becomes a word, a tangible sign when
imbued with Christ’s sanctity.942 Thus one can approach her Meditaciones, as an account of her
understanding of text performed through taste.
She begins with a kiss:
«Béseme él Señor, con él beso de su boca, porque más valen tus pechos que él vino».943
[Cant, 1,1]
Bien pudiera decir la Esposa: «Béseme », y parece concluía su petición en menos palabras.
¿Porque señala con beso de su boca? Pues a buen siguro que no hay letra demasiada.944
Teresa marks the Kiss as a sign of her friendship with the Beloved, a symbolic touch and taste of His
mouth upon her and hers upon Him.945 Although she acknowledges the linguistic peculiarity of “kiss
me with the kiss of his mouth,” she is adamant that it is not an overstatement. Carole Slade argues
940 “In all these things, if I had not just received communion, I never dared to begin to pray without a book; my soul
feared so much to be without Him in prayer.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 44.
941 Elena Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 258.
942 “The word is added to the elemental substance, and becomes a sacrament, also itself, as it were, a visible
word.” Augustine, Tractates on the Gospel of John 55-111, trans. John W. Rettig (Washington: Catholic University
of America Press, 1994), 117, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bristol/detail.action?docID=3134943#.
944 “The Bride could well say «kiss me», and seemingly conclude her plea in fewer words. Why does she mark it as
the kiss of his mouth? For I am sure there is no superfluous letter here.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los
Cantares,” 436-7.
945
“Porque claro está que el beso es señal de paz y amistad grande entre dos personas.” Teresa de Jesús,
248
that this repetition functions to underline the kiss as the sign of “God’s perfect friendship” in order
that it not be confused with any lesser blessing or worldly relationship.946 Yet whilst the kiss-sign
infers this intimate relation, it also has distinctly corporeal Christological implications. As Howells
argues, this kiss does not only identify Him at the opposing end of the cord, but it establishes Him
there in the flesh, signifying a desire for the Divine in both Spirit and Flesh, Word, and Image.947 For
Teresa the kiss of His mouth is an oral (inter)action mouth-to-mouth with the corporeal Christ which
marks His form as the object of her desire.
¿Qué mejor cosa podemos pedir que lo que yo os pido, Señor mío, que me deis esta paz con
«beso de vuestra boca»?948
Her identification of Him in the flesh offers a sense of transfer, a transgression across the oral
threshold from one form to another; she enters into Him, He into her and she begins her walk towards
mystical Truth.949 From the kiss of His mouth upon hers Teresa begins to taste the peace that she will
receive through the Prayer of Quiet, that first permeating mystical taste of divine scen(t)sation that
she comes to envision within the castle as a smoke or perfume; a perception of His presence through
a taste, flavour and scent.
In defending her exegesis, Teresa calls upon “her right to take pleasure in reciting the
Songs,” how one word of them is enough for her to become undone in Him.950 For Kristeva, this
pronunciation is all she wants: “ce qu’elle veut, c’est la prononcer («El alma no quiere ninguno, sino
946 Carole Slade, “Saint Teresa’s “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares”: the Hermeneutics of Humility and Enjoyment,”
Religion & Literature 18, no.1 (1986), 35, https://www.jstor.org/stable/40059302.
948 “What better thing could we ask than that which I ask of you, my Lord, that you give me this peace with «the
kiss of your mouth»?” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 428.
949 Elena Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 257.
35; Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 448.
249
decir estas palabras»).”951 Whilst His mouth might be her focus, the call belies the orality of her own
desire for Him, “childishly, archaically oral … Your arousal calls for food, nourishment without
end.”952 Yet this Freudian orality and corporeal desire also speaks to her mystical inheritance. For
both Guigo and Bernard, reading/chewing places the word in the mouth, and Teresa’s kiss (a)ffects
the very same: a taste of the Word (made Flesh) in her mouth. A similar oral consumption can be
uncovered in her image of the silkworm who spins its Christological cocoon by ingesting (upon) the
surface of the leaves.953 For Carrera this meditative consumption speaks directly to the prayer-full
practice of Catherine of Siena who “would chew upon every single word,” pausing to ‘graze’ if one
was particularly to her taste.954
Whilst Bernard may divide h/His kiss into a tripartite ascent of Christ’s body, his
interpretation offers a similar textuality.955 Sermon 3 speaks to the book of experience to which one
must turn within oneself in order to see if one has been blessed with such sensation as the kiss,
conflating the book of the Song with “personal experience.”956 Teresa’s Meditaciones echo this
intimacy of text and experience, so much so that Matter designates them as just “as passionate as
those of Bernard.”957 Like the Host, (her) text-as-threshold offers a material signifier that marks her
relation to her Beloved within “the void” between human and Divine which she navigates through
951 “What she wants is to pronounce it: ‘the soul wants nothing more than to say these words.’” Julia Kristeva, “La
Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 42. Here she quotes Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones,” 427.
953 “Ya havréis oído sus maravillas en cómo se cría la seda, … cómo de una simiente, que dicen que es a manera de
granos de pimienta pequeños … con el calor, en comenzando a haver hoja en los morales, comienza esta simiente
a vivir; que hasta que hay este mantenimiento de que se sustentan, se está muerta; y con hojas de moral se crían,
hasta que, después de grandes les ponen unas ramillas, y allí ́ con las boquillas van de sí mismos hilando la seda y
hacen unos capuchillos muy apretados adonde se encierran.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas del Castillo Interior,”
512.
954 Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography, 36. Here Carrera draws from the testimony of Bartolomeo de
Dominici, as quoted in Suzannah Nofke’s translation of Catherine’s Dialogue. See: Catherine of Siena, The Dialogue,
22.
956 Bernard of Clairvaux, “Sermons on the Song of Songs,” 105; E. Ann Matter, The Voice of My Beloved, 125-6.
250
the lips;958 both text and bread offer a sign of His absence that can be consumed in the quest to
overcome that loss.959 Here this kiss functions both as a sign from the Song and the experience of
their words, a taste of image and Word, the signifying sign and referent experience.
«Más valen tus pechos que el vino, que dan de sí fragrencia de muy buenos olores.»960
[Cant. 1: 1-2]
Como una persona que el gran placer y contento la desmaya, le parece se queda suspendida
en aquellos divinos brazos y arrimada a aquel sagrado costado y aquellos pechos divinos.
No sabe más de gozar, sustentada con aquella leche divina, que la va criando su Esposo y
mejorando para poderla regalar y que merezca cada día más.961
Teresa then moves from a taste of His mouth to the milk that flows from the Divine breasts. She
aligns this sustaining flow with the spreading of the sweetest and softest of unction of the Prayer of
Quiet that soothes her faculties.962 Although she drinks Him in through the mouth, here His flavour is
smelt, tasted; olfactory senses combine in the permeating scen(t)sation of this first glimpse of union.
There is a maternality to this transition to the breast, which Pidal marks not as any
appropriation of lactation imagery found in Osuna or Laredo, but as directly inspired by Teresa’s
experience of motherly tenderness. 963 Kristeva similarly emphasises this sense, though her
interpretation draws less upon female stereotypes, highlighting Teresa’s personal disdain for the

961 “Like someone who has fainted from great pleasure and joy, its seems that she is suspended in these divine
arms and pressed to this sacred side and these divine breasts. She can do nothing but enjoy, nourished by this
divine milk, that her Spouse creates and improves her with so as to gift her and make her more deserving every
day.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 451.
962 “Parece que todo el hombre interior y esterior conhorta, como si le echasen en los tuétanos una unción
suavísima, a manera de un gran olor.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 450.
963 Ramon Menendez Pidal, “El Estilo de Santa Teresa,” 135-6. It is unclear here whether Pidal is referring to
Teresa’s experience of her own mother’s tenderness, or some assumed maternal instinct of her own.
251
duties of motherhood.964 In her mind this progression to the breast marks a transition from the
exterior to the interior, from the memory of her own mother – who tragically died in her reproductive
role – toward a desire for “the sweet taste of the Christ’s masculine body.”965 She no longer has any
“need of maternal sustenance; she only pines for Him.”966 Whilst we will return to this sense of the
maternal, if we turn to her mystical heritage, these breasts also offer a sense of textuality. For
Gregory of Nyssa this Divine milk is Christ’s teaching, a wisdom that exceeds all of the wine of
human knowledge: “thy breasts are better than wine.”” 967 Similarly, within Teresa’s Jewish heritage,
“experiencing the Torah in community, in a liturgical context of praise, adoration and supplication”
was considered to be “as nourishing as milk to the infant and to have purifying effects on its
readers.”968 Thus one could envision the milk as that which Teresa extracts from the Word, an
understanding of Him received through the word, the state of prayer (of Quiet) that correlates to
Guigo’s extraction of flavour in prayer. To paraphrase Estévez López, in the flavourful pleasure of
the (W/w)ord, Teresa begins to enjoy the riches of her Lord.969 Here the taste of the milk is both her
understanding of the (w/W), and the sustenance she swallows of/from Him. This notion of
sustenance is further intensified as she comes to compare Him to manna, a fruitful apple tree, and a
delectable feast whose taste is tailored to the individual soul.970 Taste is not just understanding, but
the (a)ffect that understanding has in maintaining her in-turning transformation.
«Metióme el Rey en la bodega del vino y ordenó en mí la caridad.»971

967 Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in Christian Mysticism,” 158; Gregory of Nyssa,
Commentary on the Song of Songs, trans. Casimir McCambley (Brookline: Hellenic College Press, 1987), 52.
969 “Al saborear y gustar la Palabra, Teresa goza las riquezas del Señor.” Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos
cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 257.

970 “Dice que se sentó a la sombra del que havía deseado. Aquí no le hace sino manzano, y dice que «es su fruta
dulce para mi garganta»… Es mana, que sabe conforme a lo que queremos que sepa.” Teresa de Jesús,
252
[Cant. 2: 4]
Las llega a este embevecimiento santo con una suspensión que aun en lo esterior se ve que
no están en sí; preguntadas lo que sienten, en ninguna manera lo saben decir, ni supieron ni
pudieron entender cosa de cómo obra allí el amor … estando tan fuera de sí y tan absorta
que ninguna cosa puede obrar con las potencias.972
After milk comes wine. Now she is sustained in her transformation Teresa’s spirit is drawn into the
bodega of His self, where He gifts her with an inebriating devotion that swells until the infinitude of
His divinity overwhelms her finite human capacity. This rapturous state is provoked by a taste of
Him, a taste of union with His spirit for her(s), a drunkenness that is an excess, an overflow that
sweeps her out into the ecstatic, cascading over the frontiers of soul and body in a surge that expels
her from herself.
This state, however, also begins to move beyond the understanding of the senses; as the spirit
is swept up in ecstasy the senses, like the faculties, are left behind. Reflecting the transformation of
her spiritual sight, whilst this is a state beyond taste, it is achieved only through tasting Him in the
stages before.
«Sostenedme con flores y acompañadme con manzanas, porque desfallezco del mal de
amores».973
Once Teresa is united and transformed in the divine, scent re-emerges as the Bride’s call to be
sustained in the external works (obras) the soul performs for the Beloved; the transformed soul
serves her Beloved though works in the exterior, the fragrant flowers sprouting from the tree of their
972 “He brings them to this sacred inebriation with a suspension that even from the outside one can see they are
not in their selves; asked what they feel, in no way do they know how to say, nor do they know how to understand
how love works in them … being so far beyond themselves and so absorbed that there is nothing for the faculties
to work with.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 460.
253
love. As Howells argues, Teresa’s weaning from milk to wine to fruit signifies the maturation of the
soul as is progresses through union.974 Once the soul is weaned from His breast, it does not lose any
of this Divine “nourishment,” but such fodder “becomes a ‘gain’ which can be shared with others.”975
Once united with Him in spirit, Teresa no longer requires Divine sustenance that is mediated through
milk or wine as His spirit is now that burning entity which powers the crystalline soul in its exterior
manifestation of His will: her flowering works spring forth from the soul whose roots are planted in
the clear waters of Divine (love).976 Though the flowers signify the works, it is their fragrance that
Teresa underlines, that sensible something that emanates from them into the exterior world. Here the
flavourful understanding of Him is translated back into the external world through fragrant fruitful
action. Given writing may constitute one of her principle obras, one could argue this oral flavour
comes full circle, from the kiss of the word in her mouth, to an understanding drawn from His breast
and distilled in her (in Him) like wine, she returns to the page to spread His fruit on Earth.
Therefore, taste and flavour here function as a mode of uncovering “los grandes misterios
que este lenguaje encierra en sí,” the divine mystery hidden within the scriptural word.977 Teresa’s
oral progression appears to imply an account of the Origen-al meaning of mystical practice in which
“Teresa penetra hondamente el sentido de la Escritura.”978 As Estévez López underlines, this is not
any “ejercicio de erudición sino una «exégesis existencial»” born from sensory experience.979
Teresa’s Meditaciones signify her mode of understanding His Truth through co-consumption,
977 “The great mysteries this language encloses within itself.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,”
425; Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 257.
978 “Teresa deeply penetrates the meaning of Scripture.” Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la
Biblia,” 259.
979 “This is not any exercise in scholarly learning, but an existential exegesis born from sensory experience.” Elisa
Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 259.
254
touching and reaching Him through the word of the text; here she underlines the textual ground of
her mysticism, the Song as a “stimulus” that provokes her inner sensory experiences. 980
Porque el mesmo Señor dice que es camino; también dice el Señor que es luz y que no puede
nenguno ir a el Padre sino por El, y quien ve a mí ve a mi Padre.
Dirán que se da otro sentido a estas palabras. Yo no sé estotros sentidos; con este
que siempre siente mi alma ser verdad me ha ido muy bien. 981
This taste-as-understanding also emerges in other of her works through her play on language. In the
sixth realm of the castle she plays upon sentido (sense, meaning, feeling) to speak of how the words
of Christ have other meanings, but she prioritises the sense of them which she feels to be true in her
soul.982 Similarly, Tyler underlines how she inherits from Osuna a play on the word saber, both to
know and to taste, as mode of affective understanding obtained through her mystical practice. 983 Her
Castilian appropriation may come from Osuna, but this is not a new notion within the mystical
tradition. As Gavrilyuk and Coakley highlight, in “the Latin sources wisdom (sapientia) was
commonly taken to connote “tasted knowledge” owing to its presumed etymological connection with
taste (sapor).”984
Therefore, just as sight offers her primary mode of cognition within her castle, taste and
smell emerge within Teresa’s Meditaciones as a means of understanding the process of Divine
980 Niklaus Largier, “Inner Senses – Outer Senses,” 7.

981 “Because that same Lord said He is the way; the Lord also says He is light, and that no one may go to His Father
if not through Him, and he who beholds me looks upon my Father. They say there is another sense to these words.
I do not know these other senses; I have always done very well with this one that my soul feels to be true.” Teresa
de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 549.
982 Vanpopta alludes a similar sentiment is also present in Teresa’s Meditaciones in her admission that her
interpretation of the Song may not necessarily be identical with the intended and traditional understandings of its
meanings, but – without any desire to contradict the Church – she interprets each passage in her own way. See:
Alyssa Janine Vanpopta, “Teresa of Avila ’s Bridal Spirituality in the context of the medieval mystical tradition,” 37.
Here she quotes Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 426.
983 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 191-2, 264, 268.
984 Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah Coakley, “Introduction,” 9.
255
understanding. This recollective process is revealed as fundamentally textual, taste and smell offering
the means of perceiving His presence through the words of the Songs; taste is a direct call to her
perception and understanding of Him at which she arrives through the “threshold” of the text.985
Just a touch
Alongside her calls to the sweetness of mystical encounters, a softness or smoothness (suavidad)
accompanies such sensations; the permeating scen(t)sation of the Prayer of Quiet is a sweet and soft
unction provoked by the kiss of His mouth.
¡Qué requiebros, qué suavidades!, que havía de bastar una palabra de éstas a deshacernos
en Vos.986
A tangibility underpins Teresa’s taste of Him, their symbolic kiss marks a touch, a sensible sign of
their connection. Such tasteful tangibility again reflects Hadewijch, for whom Rudy argues that to
taste is by definition to touch and be touched;987 within this mutuality there is “an immediacy of
contact, a reciprocity of action between lover and beloved.”988 Teresa’s repeated call to His mouth,
marks Him there in body in a sensible, touchable form to which she can press herself, and be pressed
(arrimada a aquel sagrado costado).989 This kiss is a moment of union, not simply symbolic but one
“in which the soul receives God’s peace and friendship.”990 McGinn, however, appears to place
Teresa’s reading of the kiss at a distance from her experience, arguing that she only “equates” the

986 “What sweet nothings, what tendernesses! that one word of these is enough to become undone in You.” Teresa
de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 448.
988 Bernard McGinn, “Late Medieval Mystics,” in The Spiritual Senses: Perceiving God in Western Christianity, eds.
Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarak Coakley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 199, https://doi-
989 “Pressed to this sacred side.” Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 451.
36.
256
images of the Songs with her notions of unitive prayer. 991 Whilst it is true to an extent that all
Teresa’s comparaciones function at a distance from her experience, those of the scriptural Song
have an especially (a)ffective quality for our mystic; just one word of the Song is enough for Teresa
to become undone in Him. They are not just a parallel for her mystical experience but a vital
constituent of the experience itself, a key “threshold” from which she begins her transformation.992
Dailey highlights that, despite a pervasive sense of an Aristotelian hierarchy of sight and
hearing in medieval theology, there was a move within the later period towards an emphasis on the
tactility of the interior senses.993 Similarly Largier identifies this sense of touch, alongside a taste, as
most significant within Franciscan authors. 994 Although dedicated to her Carmelite Order, many of
Teresa’s mystical guides were Franciscan, for many of whom touch constituted the highest of the
spiritual senses.995 Moreover, whilst Origen marks sight the climax of his spiritual sensuality,
Teresa’s beloved Augustine designates touch as “the end of knowing.”996
Apart from their Kiss, however, Teresa never speaks to a direct touch of Him, she may feel
the pain of His lack or the certainty of His presence, but this sense of contact with Him is always
mediated. Yet whilst a true touch is absent from her soul-castle, the overwhelming sensuality of her
writing implies a sense of contact encountered or mediated through all her senses. Rather than a
cacophony of competing sensual experiences, these senses of Him may be drawn together in a touch,
991 Bernard McGinn, “‘One Word Will Contain Within Itself a Thousand Mysteries’,” 26.
995 In particular both Francisco de Osuna and Bernardino de Laredo belonged to Franciscan orders. Gavrilyuk and
Coakley identify Bonaventure, Bernard of Clairvaux and Gregory of Nyssa as prioritising a touch; see Paul Gavrilyuk
and Sarah Coakley, “Introduction,” 9. Teresa refers to Bernard of Clairvaux within her Vida, and it is likely she came
into some contact with the ideas of Bonaventure through her dependence upon the writings of Osuna and Laredo.
996 Gordon Rudy, The Mystical Language of Sensation in the Later Middle Ages, 4; Paul Gavrilyuk and Sarah
Coakley, “Introduction,” 9.
257
just as Augustine’s interior senses operate in greater unity than their external counterparts. 997 As
Kristeva argues, it is not rhetoric that helps us understand her, but Aristotle’s revelation that touch is
the most fundamental and universal of all the senses; 998 if every lived body is tactile, touch functions
in such a sense “that with which I enter into contact, enters into contact with me.”999 The sight and
sound of the castle, or the taste and scent of the Songs, all signify Teresa’s contact with the Divine,
and as such, don’t they all come to speak to a touch?
Retracing the paths of her senses, we begin with the sight of her castle. Medieval optical
theory was inherently touch-based. In intromission the species of objects move into the eye and
information travels into the sensus comunis through an impression upon the optic nerve; in Teresa’s
psychological model the capacity of this sensus comunis is reflected in her entendimiento. Here this
seen information is given further form (dar traza) and subsequent imagery is impressed upon the
waxen memory.1000 Just as corporeal intromissive and extramissive sight functions via visual
impression, that which Teresa sees in imaginary visions with the eyes of her soul is similarly
impressed into the materiality of her memory. Considering her potential single sensory soul-body
system, it is not surprising that Teresa’s sight within and without herself function through a shared
touch in which “the amorous gaze transports the lover into her Beloved and vice versa,” and such
sight “becomes a ‘tenderness felt’” in/by the soul.1001
A touch also appears within Teresa’s mystical dependence on image. As Fraeters highlights,
within Teresa’s mystical heritage there lies a notion that images could move the soul more

998 “Ce n’est pas la rhétorique qui nous aident à la lire, mais cette fulgurante révélation d’Aristote dans De l’âme et
la Métaphysique, qui attribue au toucher la propriété d’être, de tous les sens, le plus fondamental et le plus
universel. Si, en effet, tout corps animé est un corps tactile, le sens de toucher qui spécifie le vivant est tel que «ce
avec quoi j’entre en contact entre en contact avec moi».” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 48-9.
999 “«ce avec quoi j’entre en contact entre en contact avec moi».” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,”
48-9.
1001 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 205. Italics are my own.
258
(a)ffectively than words, because they directly touched the heart/soul, thus requiring no cognitive
intervention.1002 Tyler’s reading of her language of “showing” not “saying” reveals a similar
sentiment.1003 Teresa sees in images, and that which is seen is impressed into the surface of her eyes,
her soul; a touch is made that allows that function through image.
As Biernoff outlines, this seeing-as-touching is not only embodied in the stigmatic
experience of mystics, but (more commonly) in “ocular communion” with the Host.1004 Following
the fourth Lateran Council, liturgical emphasis on lay reception of the Host lay upon an ocular, as
opposed to oral, consumption; the theory of extramission in particular meant that the devotee could
come to touch the sacrament through a sight of the Host.1005 This raising of the host transformed
seeing into a touch that could substitute oral “ingestion;”1006 sight became a touch that replaced taste.
Although Teresa’s eucharistic devotion has a distinct orality, the consumption of His body again
functions through a sense of touch. Moreover this “fusion of touch and sight,” of seer and the seen
object, further entangles her reading of the words on the (scriptural) page, with the consumption of
the flesh of the Word Himself.1007
1002 Veerle Fraeters, “Visio/Vision,” 182.

1004 Suzannah Biernoff, Sight and Embodiment in the Middle Ages, 136-141.
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From within the soul-castle Teresa’s hearing offers a similar touch. The words of comfort spoken to
her by the Beloved are engraved upon her memory. They are received through a touch of the
(W/w)ord upon the material of her soul. Furthermore, Kralj highlights that within the castle her
hearing is not really a sense of hearing at all; the soul does not hear any noise as it would with the
ears of the body, rather it feels the call of the Shepherd; Teresa uses ‘sentir’ over ‘oír’ to speak to this
sensory capacity for sound functioning at a deeper level.1009 Thus hearing is more a touch, the feeling
of His words within and their impression upon herself.
Therefore, an inherent tactility lies at the root of Teresa’s senses, of her experience of Him
and her own textual imagery. Active recollection itself is not simply a call to witness the mystery of
the Passion, but to feel His experience within the self.1010 The climax of this recollective path is not a
literal touch of His body in union, but a touch that lies behind each sense of His presence. If such
senses are a means of understanding, it is both this touch that they are trying to understand and that
facilitates any understanding of Him.
For Kristeva this is the very definition of tact: “Not to touch, while yet touching,” His touch
“forever diffracted into warmth, flavor, fragrance and sound.” 1011 Although she refers to them as
visions, Kristeva considers Teresa’s mystical experiences to in-dwell within the entire soul-body
psyche-soma, produced not by any image but by a “sensorial imaginary.”1012 In Kristeva’s mind
Teresa’s visions emerge through “touch, taste, or hearing, only afterward involving the gaze.” 1013
Although this is a very tempting reading of the multi-sensory sensuality of Teresa’s word-images,
Kristeva appears to want to remove such experiences from the realm of image all-together. This feels
1009 Robert Kralj, “Importancia de los Sentidos Espirituales en Santa Teresa de Jesús,” 300.
1010 “Tomamos un paso de la Pasión, digamos como el prendimiento, y andamos en este misterio considerando por
menudo las cosas que hay que pensar en él y que sentir … es admirable y muy meritoria oración.” Teresa de Jesús,
260
at odds with centrality of image to the function of Teresa’s soul and her mystical transformation as
we have established in the preceding chapters. Her mystical experiences are engendered by
meditation upon the word-images of Scripture, written into existence in her own word-images and
experienced through a soul that functions through/as image. Perhaps, given the unitive appeal of
Kristeva’s “sensorial imaginary,” it would be better to lay this image distinction elsewhere, adopting
the notion to speak to the fact that Teresa’s mystical experiences are not solely visual images, nor the
products of just visual or seen imagery;1014 rather they function through an amalgamation or
“synaesthesia” of the senses, drawn together through touch. 1015
For Kristeva, this sensorial tactility underscores her “sensorial imaginary” as the “the fiction
of water diffuses the fantasy of an absolute touch.”1016 Whilst her aquatic imagery may initially call
to the visual, such word-images inherently imply a fluidity of tactility, a sense of the soul submerged.
Teresa’s “hydraulic technique” is tactile, something that touches the skin “that first, constant frontier
of the self, rather than the eyes,” and speaks to this touch which lies forever below the surface. 1017
The flood of aquatic imagery within her corpus forms a language of touch that comes to signify the
gap between Teresa and her Beloved. Like the textual “threshold” to her transformation, these waters
of touch speak to a separation;1018 both are dependent upon a frontier between two (permeable)
bodies, signifying her lack, and yet also constituting her means of approaching Him.
Yet this water, as we saw in chapter 1, is also that Divine love that pours forth between the
soul and its Lord, and vice versa; the erotic drive of her will that fuels Teresa’s recollective in-

1016 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 88; “ce ne pas l’eau mais la fiction de l’eau qui diffuse le fantasme d’un toucher
absolu.” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 49.

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turning is also a sense of touch, or a lack thereof. 1019 This language of water, touch and love signifies
Teresa’s interaction with Him, but in doing so also indicates the gap between them.
Os quiero decir que consideráis qué será ver este castillo tan resplandeciente y hermoso,
esta perla oriental, este árbol de vida que está plantado en las mesmas aguas vivas de la
vida, que es Dios, cuando cai en un pecado mortal.1020
If we return to Teresa’s image of the tree, we may see how this is not a tenuous tool for envisioning
her senses. The tree of the soul is planted in the living waters of life, these waters that are the touch
of Divine love. Like water flows throughout the tree from root to tip, sustaining and transforming its
form, touch streams throughout the structure of Teresa’s sensible soul, underlying each of her senses
of the Beloved. This tactile “hydraulic technique” is also the coursing force of her desire for her
Beloved, the eros that drives her turn in-wards through the jewel of the will, refracting His light
within her like the rays of the Sun glinting upon a rivers surface. 1021 Teresa’s senses not only appear
to ramify throughout her soul, but also come to constitute or construct its self. The word-images from
which she composes her soul-castle are themselves built upon and call to these senses that almost
form a sensory architecture for the soul.
The inference of a gap, a traversal in love, water, touch, speaks to a movement forwards, of
recogimiento as a progression through the senses towards the Esposo. Yet Kristeva considers it to be
the reverse: a regression, a return towards the “state of an embryo touched-bathed-fed by the
amniotic fluid” as it (re)unites with its Creator.1022 Interestingly this sensation of water and
mother/creator also emerges in Laredo’s image of the soul as a river running towards the Divine Sea,

1020 “I want to tell you to consider what it will be to see this castle so dazzling and beautiful, this oriental pearl, this
tree of life planted in the same living waters of life, that are God, when it falls in mortal sin.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 475.
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a flow that has its origin and destination in God.1023 This reciprocal aquatic influence can be felt
within Teresa: the noise of the ríos caudalosos that run through her head, and the sense that the water
is dirtied by the earthly slime of the riverbed, along with a host of other aquatic images. 1024 Whilst
Boon highlights the originality of Laredo’s river image, she traces how the roots of this image are
drawn the colloquial expressions that refer to the motion of the river in its bed:1025 ir en madre, llenar
la madre, salir del madre.1026
Teresa appears to adopt this aquatic mantle, yet whilst Laredo employs such sentiment to
speak of the Virgin Mother’s connection to the Trinity, Teresa’s watery language implies a
regression towards a maternal sense of reproduction. 1027 As Kristeva argues, Teresa’s motherliness,
much like that of her mystical predecessor Julian, is inherently a reference to the embodied
Creator;1028 her waters flow towards the Mother in the generative sense. This connection of water,
mother, and touch fills Teresa’s writings with a regression towards her Creator, a desire for unity
with the one who made her.
As we have seen such maternal regression is tangible within Teresa’s Meditaciones, both
pressed to His breast and instilled into His bodega she is “touched-bathed-fed.”1029 Yet the child at
the breast of the (m)Other emerges throughout her obras:

1024 “Ansí como decíamos de los que están en pecado mortal cuán negras y de muy mal olor son sus corrientes,
ansí acá (aunque no son como aquéllas, Dios nos libre, que esto es comparación) metidos siempre en la miseria de
nuestra tierra, nunca el corriente saldrá del cieno de temores.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 478.
1026 To flow into the mother, to fill the mother, to go out from her.
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Aquí no está aún el alma criada, sino como un niño que comienza a mamar, que si se aparta
de los pechos de su madre, ¿qué se puede esperar de él sino la muerte?1030
There is no soul too great, so advanced along its path that it should not return to the breast and feed
in that first mystical state of the Prayer of Quiet;1031 here, as the soul begins to taste the divine gustos
of the fourth moradas, it is a child at the breast, who if removed from its Creator will die. At other
times the soul is like a child latched to the breast whose mother, without it realising, lets milk flow
forth to sustain it.1032 Despite these maternal reflections, there is a frontier in Kristeva’s regression
back to a state of “touched-bathed-fed” that does not quite align with the particular stages of Teresa’s
recollective intur(n)ing.1033 As Jean-Luc Nancy illustrates, this regression towards His breast is not a
union in which the gap between subject-object is closed.1034 For there to be a touch there must be a
frontier, a skin between them. The child at the breast does not return to the womb of the mother, it
does not regress to that initial point, but instead “re-establishes a contact that reverses the roles: the
child that was contained now in turn contains the body that contained it.”1035 Pressed to the breast
Teresa has not yet reached Kristeva’s sense of the embryo, rather she holds Him before herself in the
mouth, maintaining contact but forcing Him out into another sense of ecstasy: between the horizontal
ek-stasis as she stands before the castle (that first turn of the eyes inwards) and that final ecstasy
beyond herself/within herself, Teresa almost sends Him into the ek-static as she draws some of His
1030 “Here the soul is not yet raised, but like a child which has begun to suckle, that if it leaves its mother’s breast,
what can be expected for it but death?” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 505.
1031 “Ni hay alma en este camino tan gigante que no haya menester muchas veces tornar a ser niño y a mamar.”

1032 “Está el alma como un niño que aún mama, cuando está a los pechos de su madre, y ella, sin que él paladee,
échale la leche en la boca por regalarle.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino,” 366.

1034 Jean-Luc Nancy, “Rethinking Corpus,” in Carnal Hermeneutics, eds. Robert Kearney and Brian Treanor (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2015), 82,

1035 Jean-Luc Nancy, “Rethinking Corpus,” 85-6.
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self (milk) into hers before she has yet passed into Him; He is both at once, and never truly, inside
and outside her.
Although Teresa’s suckling imagery ends here, her regression does not; the soul at the breast
only equates to the sensorial experience of the Prayer of Quiet. Kristeva’s embryo speaks much more
closely to the spirit as it is drawn into the divine bodega; here Teresa-as-embryo bathes in the
celestial juices within the One from whence she came.
Whilst it is only Teresa’s spirit that can enter that final realm of the soul-castle, her faculties
and senses are only permitted as far as the sixth moradas, she continues to speak to the experiences
of this final realm in sensorial terms: the butterfly continues its flight towards resting in Him, her
light becomes absorbed into the brilliance of the Divine and her waters continue to flow. 1036 Here
Teresa reaches a state beyond the senses but in which she remains sensible, even if her multi-sensory
comparaciones are laughable. 1037 Her final union is not a state of oblivion or darkness like those of
Porete or John of the Cross, but rather an accomplishment of pure touch unmediated by her other
senses. Dissolved in Him in spirit she is in constant contact, not touching Him but touching through
Him, always already touching His self through hers and hers through His. If touch lies at the root of
her senses, then Teresa’s intellectual ‘seeing-through’ should also imply an immersion in touch. As
Kralj argues, here she truly comes into a sense of self possession, just as she sees her self in/through
Him, she feels her entire self in, through and as Him.1038 This sight beyond sight is a touch beyond
touching and being touched, and understanding of the Divine not simply through experience but
through being, an existential understanding.1039

1037 “Riéndome estoy de estas comparaciones, que no me contentan; mas no sé otras.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 574.
1038 Robert Kralj, “The distinction between ‘Soul’ and ‘Spirit’ according to Saint Teresa of Avila,” 92-3.
1039 As we have seen, in terms of the textuality of this understanding, Estévez López marks it as “una «exégesis
existencial».” See: Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta cómo lee la Biblia,” 259.
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This self-sensibility implies some remaining gap that renders touch necessary, that implies a
continuity of sensory perception, with two potential origins: firstly, despite being the ultimate
destination of the castle, this marital union cannot be fully achieved whilst she lives.1040 Although her
spirit may be united with His, the soul’s corporeal encryption prevents a total union with the Divine
until death, and as such there remains a sense of division between Teresa and her Beloved. This
division arises, however, from a second distinction, that which Teresa lays between her soul and
spirit. In this final realm the spirit is liberated from the remaining realms of the soul causing another
gap to emerge, not between His self and hers, but between herself and her soul. Therefore, it is
possible to envision the continued function of Teresa’s sensorial imagery for this state beyond the
senses through touch traversing this new gap. In the same way her entendimiento may catch a brief
glimpse of their union through a crack in the walls of seventh moradas, her senses are occasionally
touched by that which occurs within the marital chamber. The touch which lies at the root of all her
senses may be here repurposed, transformed to traverse her mystical estrangement from her self in
Him.
Thus, Teresa’s uncoils a “geometry of the senses” which unfurls at a touch.1041 Touch, water,
desire, all one and the same, are her means of reaching Him through the “threshold” of the page.1042
Her regression may climax in a state beyond the senses, but it is not a state beyond self-sensitivity.
Once distanced from the senses that ramify throughout her soul structure, Teresa embodies an
awareness of His presence, a perception of her self in Him that is beyond those now interior senses,
but one that still functions in sensorial terms.
1040 “Esta gran merced no debe cumplirse con perfección mientra vivimos, pues si nos apartásemos de Dios, se
perdería esta tan gran bien.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 570.
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Analogy, metaphor, or more?
This chapter seeks not to offer any systematisation of Teresian sensation, but an alternative vision of
the sensory patterns of her text; this “respectful … distance,” however, does not preclude us from
asking what she means by these senses.1043
Suele nuestro Señor tener otras maneras de despertar el alma, … parece viene una
inflamación deleitosa, como si de presto viniese un olor tan grande que se comunicase por
todos los sentidos … sólo para dar a sentir que está allí el Esposo.1044
For Kralj, Teresa’s sense perceptions of the Divine are analogous. In her he reads five interior senses
that function in a similar mode to those of the body in perceiving external stimuli, but that are
directed inwards towards the spiritual.1045 Kralj’s analogy is accurate in a sense, as we have seen
Teresa’s allusions to the eyes and ears of the soul are analogical or allegorical references to corporeal
sensory organs. She does not construct a soul with these sensory limbs but employs the organs as a
linguistic device to underline their sensible comprehensible capacity. Her “limbs” of the body are
transcribed onto the soul to speak of an agency of sensory perception.1046
For Jean-Louis Chretien, however, the sensory capacity of the soul can only be an analogy, a
linguistic tool to articulate an otherwise unsayable interior experience.1047 The sensory agency of the
body and the perceptive capacity of the soul are two things that share a likeness, a reflection, but
their connection goes no further; the realities of the two separate sensory systems remain distinct.1048
1043 Here I paraphrase de Certeau’s call for a mystical method that “observe[s] a modesty that is respectful of
distances.” See: Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 83.
1044 “Usually the Lord has other means of rousing the soul… it seems as though a delightful inflammation arrives, as
if all of a sudden a great scent came and offered itself to all the senses… only for it to be understood by the soul
that the Spouse is there;” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 530-1.
1045 Robert Kralj, “Importancia de los sentidos espirituales en Santa Teresa de Jesús,” 303.
1046 Jean-Louis Chrétien, “From the limbs of the Heart to the Soul’s organs,” in Carnal Hermeneutics, eds. Richard
Kearney and Brian Treanor (New York: Fordham University Press, 2015), 92,
1047 Jean-Louis Chretien, “From the limbs of the Heart to the Soul’s organs,” 93-4.
1048 Jean-Louis Chretien, “From the limbs of the Heart to the Soul’s organs,” 93.
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Yet for Teresa the reality of her sensorial soul is not so easily distinguished from the senses of her
body. She alludes to one continuous sensorial path, ramifying in multiple strands from soul to body
and vice versa. Therefore, they share more than an analogous reflection. They speak to a shared a
form, a continuum or pathway throughout her entire soul-body architecture.
Thus, her Divine perceptions move beyond analogy. She may employ corporeal limbs as a
linguistic device, and often speaks to her multi-sensory imagery as inadequate comparaciones, but
her dependence upon the text intensifies the relationship. 1049 As demonstrated by her inherently
sensual commentary of the Song, the text is the source of her mystical experience; this textual
“threshold,” drenched in sensorial imagery of Divine perception, comes to effect her own mystical
contact with the Beloved.1050 She reads the sensible imagery of the page which then effects a sensory
awakening within her self, and in turn she writes this into text through the senses.
Here we find the echoes of ineffability: if Teresa’s mysticism is inherently entangled with
language, occurring through, within, and in relation to word and image, how can it be ineffably
beyond language? Similarly, if the form and function of such language is inherently sensory, then
don’t her own sensory accounts infer more than metaphor? As Kristeva asks, are these “metaphors,
similes, or metamorphoses in words?”1051 The senso-reality of her experience is tied to the affectivity
of the Song and the Passion, the devotional instruction to both see and feel.1052 Thus Teresa’s senses
are not simply a means of representation, but, in the words of Largier, they “constitute and construct
a reality of mind.”1053 Her sensory (a/)illusions are not simply a linguistic device post factum, but
weave the reality of her encounter with the Beloved, a senso-reality of Divine perception; they are

1052 “Tomamos un paso de la Pasión, digamos como el prendimiento, y andamos en este misterio considerando por
menudo las cosas que hay que pensar en él y que sentir … es admirable y muy meritoria oración.” Teresa de Jesús,
268
both the vehicle and the pathway for her ascent. Yet to see, to taste, to touch is always already a
means of understanding Him. They are not just the vehicle for understanding the experience of His
presence, but more importantly they are the vehicle for that experience of understanding itself.
Teresa’s interior or spiritual senses are a ramification of those of the body and therefore dwell
beyond the realm of analogy; she positions them much closer to the experience itself than a mere
comparison.
Summary
This chapter has sought to (a/i)llude to a form, function, and significance of Teresa’s spiritual senses
through the pattern of one singular sensible soul-body continuum. Due to the vitally entwined
corporeality of her encrypted soul, Teresa can be seen not to identify a traditional analogous divide of
inner-outer senses. Rather she offers a glimpse of a sensory pathway that ramifies from exterior to
interior, providing both the camino and the vehicle for her recollective in-tur(n)ing.
Her sensorial awakening to Him within her self is fundamentally a mode of understanding.
Her sight through Him in the final moradas of the castle, and her taste of her self in the bodega of
His self, constitute an arrival at and in His self-as-Truth. Just as this ultimate union is an
understanding beyond her understanding, is it also a sight beyond sight, a touch beyond touching, a
sense of her self-dissolution in Him that transcends sense itself.1054
Moreover, this tasteful visionary understanding is underpinned by touch. Never an
unmediated direct touch of His self upon hers, but an impression made upon each of her other senses.
Touch lies beneath the surface of each of their encounters without ever making itself fully sensible;
even that final union is a touch beyond touching. Throughout the castle a subtle touch speaks to their
estrangement and desire, much like her relationship with the (w/W)ord, both highlighting the gap
1054 See previous chapter on the faculties.
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between them and providing the means for its traversal. Touch lies at the root of her transformation,
the means and method for her regression towards the Creator.
This corpo-spiritual sensory continuum implies that Teresa’s inherently multi-sensory images
are not just illustrations in the representational sense. They are not simply something like the means
of their (con)tact, but they come to constitute and construct the reality of her experience. Teresa’s
corporeally encrypted soul and her entanglement with word and image speak to her spiritual
sensations, not as something at a distance from her experience, but as a perceptive mode that
engenders the reality of her mystical experience as an experience of understanding.
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Chapter 6: Speech and Writing: Teresa the Writer
Having followed Teresa’s path through her soul in language, this final chapter traces her mystical
descent into writing. Whilst she may be the first female commentator on the Songs, Teresa is by no
means the first mystical woman to take up the pen; she follows a long tradition of mystical ‘mothers’
moved to writing by experience of the spirit. The medieval flourishing of this tradition, arguably “the
only place in the history of the West in which woman speaks and acts so publicly,” is vitally
entwined with the rise of “vernaculars as literary languages” in the thirteenth century, through which
more and more women become the focus of spiritual texts, either as the protagonists of
hagiographical accounts, through compilation or dictation, or by their own hand.1055
Despite three centuries of female authorship amongst her northern mothers, only “a handful”
Castilian female writers precede Teresa when she takes up the pen;1056 nor did all of them write by
their own hand.1057 As Surtz highlights, reading and writing were considered separate skills with
reading often taking priority, especially in religious orders. 1058 Yet “being unable to write did not
prevent a person from composing letters or literary works, for literary composition was most
commonly associated with the practice of dictation to a scribe.”1059 Literacy was perhaps more
question of a capacity to produce, rather than construct, written texts.1060 As Mujica highlights, such
literary education was deeply entangled with social standing and merchants’ daughters – like Teresa -
1055 Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,” 191; Caroline Walker Bynum, Jesus as Mother, 170.
1056 Teresa de Cartagena [b. 1425], Maria de Santo Domingo [b. 1485], Juana de la Cruz [b. 1481], Maria de Ajofrin
[b. 1489], Constanza de Castille [d. 1478]. Surtz also mentions two secular female authors writing in medieval
Castille, Leanor Lopez de Cordoba and Florencia Pinar. See: Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and
Early Modern Spain, 1. Simlarly, almost all the authors listed in the nineteenth century dictionary of female Spanish
writers belong to the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. See: Manuel Serrano y Sanz, Apuntes para una
biblioteca de escritoras españolas desde el año 1401 al 1833.
1057 For example, whilst the works of Teresa de Cartagena were written in her own hand, Maria de Santo
Domingo’s Libro de la Oracion was a compilation of her ecstatic utterances.

1058 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 3-4.
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were often taught to read; 1061 similarly like many conversos’ daughters, her education also extended
to writing.1062
Writing, however, was very different from authoring a text; authorial composition was
considered a very serious violation of the Pauline injunction given its public implications. 1063 As
Surtz argues, “female writing was never intended to leave the private sphere,” the public world of
speech and text was an inherently male prerogative. 1064 Furthermore, he highlights how many
(religious) women who dared to write were highly conscious of their (supposed) ignorance of the
texts in and from which authority was “enshrined” and “derived.” 1065 Some however, like Teresa de
Cartagena, “appropriated” this source of authority, drawing from spiritual texts for themselves, others
used their mystical experience as means “to defend their own brand of infused knowledge” on the
page, much like their northern sisters.1066 Whilst our Teresa might follow her ‘mothers’ through a
combination of authoritative reference and personal experience, Surtz argues that despite her wide
reading, it is “unlikely Teresa ever read their writings.”1067
However, Juana de la Cruz “was quite well known,” and it may be possible Teresa was aware
of Maria de Santo Domingo for her role in the reform of the Dominican Order. 1068 Yet the limited
number of these her mystical mothers attests to the climate into which Teresa professes. As Surtz
states, the years preceding her authorial arrival “was the site of vigorous querelles des femmes” in
which Cisneros’s championing of female spirituality was equally matched by a reactionary
1061 Barbara Mujica, “Three Sisters of Carmen,” in The Youth of Early Modern Women, eds. Elizabeth Storr Cohen
and Margaret Louise Reeves (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2018), 140,
https://doi.org/10.1515/9789048534982.
1062 Barbara Mujica, “Three Sisters of Carmen,” 140.
1063 I am paraphrasing Surtz here: “Owning and administering property was one thing; authoring books was quite
another.” Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 2.
1065 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 6, 7.
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movement which “had recourse to nearly every misogynist cliché” and was inherently suspicious of
female writing.1069 In the years surrounding Teresa’s profession and conversion, this was
compounded by the climate of the Counter Reformation and the rise of the alumbrados, in particular
the role of female preachers in this more egalitarian, anti-ecclesial movement. For example, Isabel de
la Cruz was put on trial by the Inquisition in the early years of Teresa’s childhood. It was not simply
her rejection of the Pauline silence in preaching which garnered such persecution but her practice of
dejamiento, the denial of the will and abandonment to that of God.1070
Teresa begins writing in the early 1560s in direct response to her own position in this climate,
as an act of obedience to defend her mystical practice and experience in relation to similar charges of
illuminism. As I have already addressed, despite the echoes of alumbradismo which permeate her
mysticism (the abandoning of the will, silent mental prayer and personal interpretation of Scripture),
Teresa successfully demonstrates her doctrinal orthodoxy in text.1071 Yet her writing is inherently
shaped by the long shadow of her unsuccessful mothers who fell to charges of illuminism, false
prophecy, and demonic possession, from whom she must distinguish her self.1072 Alongside the
works of Bilinkoff and Ahlgren, Weber offers a foundational portrait of Teresa’s navigation of this
fraught context in text and rhetoric. Her argument for Teresa’s “rhetoric of femininity,” a means of
speaking in text that both played upon her female position and allowed her to speak/write from it,
constructs an insightful vision of Teresa the writer:1073 astute, funny, highly intelligent and adept at
navigating the tense political relations of her time. Building upon such foundations, this chapter
seeks to focus on the mysticality of Teresa’s writing, the function of her authorial act within the soul-
1071 See introduction.
1072 In particular Weber highlights the example of Magdalena de la Cruz, a Franciscan nun in Cordova, who in 1546
was subjected to an auto da fé by the Inquisition in condemnation of her stigmata and prophecies which were
considered as demonic in source. See Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 5.
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body. Here I seek to map how her body shapes her writing not just socially, but how this is
interiorised within her mystical journey. Where chapter 1 traced the transformative function of
language for Teresa the reader, here we look to its role in the transformation of the writer.
In her exploration of (w/W)ord and flesh within Marguerite, Angela and Hadweicjh, Holmes
clearly demonstrates how “French feminist theories help illuminate the question of how women’s
bodies enter language and particularly writing.”1074 As we have seen, she twins Angela with Cixous,
Hadewijch with Kristeva, Marguerite with Irigaray, all interwoven with a concern for an écriture
féminine (feminine writing), a speech in text which seeks to break free of phallogocentric limits.1075
Multi-faceted and largely beyond concrete definition, the carnal inscription of ‘writing the body’ as
employed in chapter 2 marks only one aspect of this practice which seeks to “capture and theorize
that which was conceived as ‘other’ to the rational, symbolic order” of language. 1076 A space of
multiplicity, reciprocity and unconsciousness, this “haunting excess” of phallogocentricity entangles
“the personal with the historical and the literary,” appropriates, “stealing/flying (voler) from other
texts,” dismantles the binary of speech and writing, and operates “through an economy of giving
without returning to solid meaning.”1077 Whilst mystical writing has been employed to understand the
relationship between femininity and the pen, given écriture féminine’s privileging of the voice, of
writing as an extension of the self, this employment can perhaps be turned on its head and used to
understand the function of writing within Teresa’s mysticism.1078 Through the lens of écriture
féminine this chapter seeks to trace the multiplicitous facets of Teresa’s writing in the context of her

1075 Whilst the term écriture féminine is commonly tied to the work of Cixous, the term marks broader concern
within poststructuralist and psychoanalytical French feminist philosophy of the 1970’s within the works of Kristeva,
Irigaray, Xavière Gauthier, Chantal Chawaf, and Annie LeClerq. See: Anna Watz, “Surrealism and écriture
féminine,” 366.
1076 Anna Watz, “Surrealism and écriture féminine,” 366.
1077 Anna Watz, “Surrealism and écriture féminine,” 367-8; Griselda Pollock, “Moments and Temporalities of the
Avant-Garde,” New Literary History 41, no. 4 (2010), 802, https://www.jstor.org/stable/23012707; Emily A.
Holmes, Flesh Made Word, 102-3.
1078 Toril Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics (New York: Routledge, 2002), 112.
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transformation: how she speaks through the soul and the pen, the self and origin of that voice, and
ultimately how the writing act crystalises her transformation in(to) the Divine.1079
Written from experience

Each of Teresa’s texts begin with some acknowledgement that she has been ordered or given license
to write “a few things about prayer” (algunas cosas de oración) and the blessings the Beloved has
laid upon her.1080 She comes to writing through a command to put pen to paper as a result of her
prayer-full experiences.
Me han mandado y dado larga licencia para que escriva el modo de oración y las mercedes
que el Señor me ha hecho.1081
Each text is constructed from her mystical transformation. For example, whilst her Vida is an
autobiography grounded in prayer, her Camino, designed as a teaching instrument for her daughters,
is a similarly instructive guide to prayer woven from spiritual experience. Whilst she could not pen a
directly doctrinal treatise in the model of Pseudo-Dionysius or Gerson, she could draw upon the
tradition of female mystical writing through “a more or less autobiographical form and a subjective
presentation.”1082
Es muy sin tener asiento lo que escrivo, sino a pocos a pocos; y esto quisiérale, porque
cuando el Señor da espíritu, pónese con facilidad y mijor. Parece como quien tiene un
dechado delante, que está sacando aquel labor; más si el espiritu falta, no hay más concertar
este lenguaje que si fuese algaravía ... me parece es grandísima ventaja cuando lo escrivo
1079 Here I borrow Kristeva’s use of “crystalization” which she uses to describe the function of Teresa’s mystical
visions. For example see: Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 169, 382.
1081 “They have commanded and given me great leave to write of my way of prayer and the favours that the Lord
has done me.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 33.

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estar en ello; porque veo claro no soy yo quien lo dice, que ni lo ordeno con el entendimiento
ni sé después cómo lo acerté a decir.1083
Yet, she does not solely tie writing to spiritual experience, but entwines the spirit itself with the act.
When the Lord gives (to) the spirit she can speak so much more easily and clearly, like someone
following a pattern with their needle;1084 when she is with Him in spirit the words flow forth from her
pen so smoothly as if it were not she who formed them. Her act of writing originates not only from
the spirit, but from a spirit always already tied to the Divine. This is not an unusual notion, Juan de
Padilla’s meditative Retablo begins with a very similar sentiment;1085 nor is it dissimilar from Cyril
of Jerusalem’s conception that “the Holy Ghost Himself … spake the Scriptures” and spoke in the
prophets.1086
Pues vengamos, con el favor del Espiritu Santo, a hablar de las sestas moradas.1087
This long tradition of spiritual speech begins with Gregory the Great, whose Moralia Teresa found
particularly stimulating.1088 Gregory’s Homilies on Ezechiel were reportedly truly spoken by the
Holy Spirit who placed His beak within the saint’s lips and upon its removal he began to speak His
1083 “What I write is very unsettled, only ever a little at a time; and this I wish I had more of, for when the Lord
gives (to) the spirit, one can write more easily and clearly. It seems to me like someone with a pattern/model
before them, who is drawing out that work; but if the spirit is lacking, it is no more possible to harmonise the
words than if it were some great hubbub … it seems to me to great advantage when I write from within Him/it
[spirit]; for I see clearly that I am not the one who speaks, nor he whose understanding commands it, nor do I
know afterwards how I came to say it.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 86.
1084 Edgar Allison Peers’s translation of this passage of her Vida speaks of writing from the spirit as “like one
working with a pattern before her and copying it with her needle.” See Teresa of Jesus, “The Life of the Holy
Mother Teresa of Jesus,” in The Complete Works of St Teresa, trans. E. Allison Peers (London: Sheed and Ward,
1972) 1: 86.
1085 “E si en alguna parte ha procedido bien: den se las grecias a dios que las reparte como a el le plaze: y si por el
contrario: reputese a su ignorancia y poco saber.” Juan de Padilla, Retablo de la Vida de Cristo, argumento de toda
la obra.
1086 Cyril of Jerusalem, The Catechetical Lectures of S. Cyril (Oxford: John Henry Parker, 1838), 203-4,
https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/008682128.
1087 “So we come, with the help of the Holy Spirit, to speak of the sixth moradas.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,”
525.
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words.1089 As Carrera highlights, Gregory is also associated with the origins of spiritual flight,
bestowing the soul with the wings of an eagle with which one must “thrust oneself” upwards towards
the Divine.1090 As such Gregory, like Teresa, is commonly shown quill in hand with the dove resting
over his shoulder. Teresa’s texts are littered with doves: she glimpses the dove of the Holy Spirit
whose wings are made not of feathers but of iridescent shells, and she uses the little dove (palomica)
of the castle to speak to the liberation of her spirit in the Beloved. 1091 Moreover, she intertwines this
dove-like imagery with her ability to write:
En acordándome de mí se me quiebran las alas para decir cosa buena.1092
In her Vida she laments that being a woman is enough to “clip her wings” (caerséme las alas), a
flamboyant display of humility in light of Paul’s Injunction.1093 Similarly, her castle speaks of how
remembering the lowly worm that she is causes her wings to break and leaves her unable to say
anything of value.1094 Thus for Teresa, writing is inextricably intertwined with the be-winged spirit,
not just the source of her experience, but the very spark of that writing act. Her swarm of bird-like
word-images speak not only to the transformation of the soul and liberation of the spirit, but to this
spirit’s return to outer realms of the castle in order to write its journey.
1089 Gilbert Huddleston, “Pope St. Gregory I,” in The Catholic Encyclopedia (New York: Robert Appleton, 1909;
online ed., 2021), http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/06780a.html.
1091 “Estando en esto, veo sobre mi cabeza una paloma muy bien diferente de las de acá, porque no tenía estas
plumas, sino las alas de una conchicas que eschavan de si gran resplandor. Era grande más que paloma. Paréceme
que oía el ruido que hacía con las alas. Estaría aleando espacio de un avemaría.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la
Vida,” 209; “Paréceme que estáis con deseo de ver qué se hace esta palomica y adónde asienta, pues queda
entendido que no es en gustos espirituales ni en contentos de la tierra; más alto es su vuelo, y no os puedo
satisfacer de este deseo hasta la postrera morada, y aun plega a Dios se me acuerde u tenga lugar de escribirlo.”
1092 “In remembering myself my wings have broken in the struggle to say something good.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las
Moradas,” 488.
1093 “Basta ser mujer para caérseme las alas, cuantimás mujer y ruin.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 69; Alison
Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 50.

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Yet, although the spirit may spark the soul, in this case constituting the origin of her speech
act, her entendimiento is the obrador of language. As we witnessed in chapter 4, this faculty is that
which both traces the form of language on the page and gives linguistic form for the urge to speak.
Whilst it may be the spirit that moves her to speak, it is her understanding that carves the verbal
form. Given, however, that she is writing of the experience of her spirit, Teresa’s act of writing must
also touch upon some facet of her memory. She is not, as we shall see, writing in the moment of
Divine encounter, but re-forming the details of such embraces from impressions left upon her waxen
memory.1095 The act of writing, although grounded in spirit, is cast through the mould of the memory,
the understanding tracing its experiential linguistic form from its carved surface.
Who is speaking?
This spiritual writing is littered with outcries to her Beloved, interjections imploring for His aid in
speaking. When considered in light of the entanglement of her spirit with writing and the progressive
transformation of her soul and spirit, such outcries beg the question: who is speaking?
Para comenzar a hablar de las cuartas moradas, bien he menester lo que he hecho, que es
encomendarme a el Espíritu Santo y suplicarle de aquí adelante hable por mí.1096
Teresa is not just writing of/from her mystical experience but from a state far down the spiralling
path of her transformation; all of her texts are written after she has (a)ffected that recollective in-turn
within her self and begun to encounter the Beloved. The first draft of her Vida is completed in 1562
and in that same year she begins her Camino;1097 the Meditaciones date from around 1574 and Las
Moradas 1577.1098

1096 “In order to speak of the fourth moradas, I must do what I have done, which is to entrust myself to the Holy
Spirit and beg Him that from here onwards He speaks for/through me.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 495.
1097 Efren de la Madre de Dios, Otger Steggink, “Cronología de Santa Teresa,” in Obras Completas de Santa Teresa
de Jesús, ed. Efren de la Madre de Dios and Otger Steggink (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2018), 21.
1098 Efren de la Madre de Dios, Otger Steggink, “Cronología de Santa Teresa,” 26-7.
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Comencé el himno, y estándole diciendo, vínome un arrebatamiento tan súpito que casi me
sacó de mí … Fue la primera vez que el Señor me hizo esta merced de arrobamiento. 1099
Five years before she pens her Vida, Teresa experiences her first instance of rapture in 1556; whilst
singing the Veni Creator, the Lord snatches her up with such an intensity that it almost seizes her
from her very self. Thus in writing this autobiography and her subsequent Camino, she not only has
already begun her recollective in-furling, but writes from a state of transformation in which she has
reached the sixth moradas in which ecstasy begins.
This mystical journey climaxes in ultimate spiritual matrimony in 1572, when she enters the
seventh moradas and Christ gifts her a key as a mark of their true espousal. 1100 Her Meditaciones and
Moradas are written after this event, thus both must be written from a state of spiritual dissolution
in(to) Him. This may go some way to explain the supposedly more “mature” theory of mystical
union encompassing both action and contemplation detailed in these later works.1101 Here her spirit
dissolves into His and like a drop of water falling into a river, it can no longer be distinguished from
His own.1102 Thus her cries to the Beloved to aid in her authorship appear almost to address our
question. In trying to write of blessings of the fourth moradas, Teresa gives her self over to the Holy
Spirit (encomendarme) and begs Him to speak through her. Later she writes of how she will be
1099 “I began the hymn, and in saying it, a seizure came to me so sudden that it almost drew me out of myself … It
was the first time that the Lord gave me the blessing of rapture.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 133.
1100 “Entonces representóseme por visión imaginaria, como otras veces, muy en lo interior, y diome su mano
derecha, y díjome: «Mira este clavo, que es señal que serás mi esposa desde hoy; hasta ahora no lo havías
merecido; de aquí adelante, no sólo como Criador y como Rey y tu Dios mirarás mi honra, sino como verdadera
esposa mía: mi honra es ya tuya y la tuya mía».” Teresa de Jesús, “Cuentas de Conciencia,” 605.
1101 Both Howells and McGinn make reference to this development in her mystical thought. See: Bernard McGinn,
“‘One word will contain within itself a thousand mysteries’,” 23; Edward Howells, John of the Cross and Teresa of
Avila, 79, 89.
1102 “Acá es como si cayendo agua del cielo en un río u fuente, adonde queda hecho todo agua, que no podrán ya
dividir ni apartar cuál es el agua del río u lo que cayó del cielo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 571.
279
unable to speak of the complex contents of the fifth moradas if He does not guide her pen.1103 In the
following realms, she even admits that it is not she who speaks:
Lo que he dicho hasta aquí en esta oración, entiendo claro que, si va bien, que no soy yo la
que lo he dicho.1104
It appears she is not entirely alone in speaking; it is as if He speaks through her. That which is said,
although it comes from the mouth of her soul, cast in the form of her experience, finds its origin in
their shared spirit. Whilst this is true of her Moradas and Meditaciones, the dissolution of her spirit
into His has not yet occurred when she writes of her Vida and Camino. This is not to say she is not
writing from some unitive state. The sixth moradas from which she pens such text is characterised by
the final stages of her will’s conformation to that of the Divine, a weakening of this faculty through
which her spirit is momentarily released and swept up in brief raptures. The final moments of this
realm mark the spiritual betrothal in which she offers this last part of her self to Him and takes His as
her own.1105 And this will she also draws into the authorial process:
Mas entendiendo que la fuerza de la obedencia suele allanar cosas que parecen imposibles,
la voluntad se determina a hacerlo muy de buena gana.1106
Within the castle, she ties her will to the act of speaking, to her obedience to the call to write. This
invocation of the will reflects the rhetoric of her mystical ‘mothers’: Hildegard begins her Scivias
with a similar declaration of the Divine will behind her writing;1107 Teresa de Cartagena connects the
1103 “Plega a El que acierte yo a declarar algo de cosas tan dificultosas, que si Su Majestad y el Espíritu Santo no
menea la pluma, bien sé que será imposible.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 522.
1104 “What I have said up to here in this prayer, understand well that, if it clear/true, it is not I who has said it.”

1105 “¡Oh, qué dicha tan grande será alcanzar esta merced!, pues es juntarse con la voluntad de Dios de manera
que no haya división entre El y ella, sino que sea una mesma voluntad.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 445.
1106 “Rather understand that the strength of obedience can smooth out things which appear impossible, the will
resolves itself to do so very intently.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 470.

1107 “And write them not by yourself or any other human being, but by the will of Him Who knows, sees and
disposes all things in the secrets of His mysteries." Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, 59.
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state of her will and her (in)capacity to write. 1108 Similarly, our Teresa may not yet be fully
transformed in(to) Him, but it is through and in fulfilment of His will that she puts pen to paper; here,
in writing her Vida and her Camino, she is always already “governed by the Other.”1109
The year of her desposorio espiritual is commonly given as 1556, four years before she is
reported to have taken to the pen.1110 Thus, in these earlier pages it is likely that Teresa writes from a
state in which it is no longer her own will that guides the soul, but having given that final faculty of
her self over to Him, she is no longer in full control of her self. Thus, it is His will which guides her
pen. For de Certeau it is this will upon which the very act of mystic speech depends, a will that is
simultaneously “nihil volo (‘I want nothing’) and ‘I only want God’ (that is, ‘God must will for
me’).”1111 For Teresa in writing this will is always already God’s own. 1112 Her spirit may still be the
spark of her soul, but His will (or her reflection of it) refracts that spiritual drive throughout the soul.
Furthermore, it is only through union that she may speak. Her authorisation for breaking the
Pauline silence originates in her experience of Him which permits (commands) her to write. In the
eyes of her (male) superiors she can write because she can speak of Him from experience. Here
Frohlich highlights the image of the soul impressed like wax as symbolic of Teresa being
“increasingly ‘written’ and ‘sealed’ by the Divine” just as the king’s seal denotes “his personal
presence, authority, and majesty despite his physical absence.” 1113 As this re-made soul, she speaks
1108 “Si he tanto tardado de lo encomendar a la obra, no vos devéys maravillar, ca mucho es encojida la voluntat
quando la dispusyçión de la persona no conçierta con ella, antes avn la ynpide e contrasta. Sy consyderardes,
virtuosa señora, las enfermedades e corporales pasyones que de continuo he por familiares, bien conosçerá
vuestra discreçión que mucho son estoruadoras de los mouim[i]entos de la voluntad e no menos turbadoras del
entendimiento, el qual fatigado e turbado con aquello que la memoria e natural sentimiento de presente le
ofresçen, asy como costreñido de propia neçesydad, recoje en sy mesmo la deliberaçión de la voluntad con todos
ynteriores mouim[i]entos.” Teresa de Cartegena, “Admiraçión Operum Dey,” 111.
1110 For example, see: Otger Steggink and Efrén de la Madre de Dios, “Cronología de Santa Teresa,” 20-2; Mary
Frohlich, The Intersubjectivity of the Mystic, 160.

1113 Mary Frohlich, The Space of Christic Performance, 171.
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as/of Him by His will. This Divinely inspired origin is only intensified in their final union, here as
she spiritually dissolves in Him “her “I” has become a “vanishing point” from which “speech only
arises in the name of the other… so that the Other may speak.”1114 Thus the page may be penned by
her hand, but it is He who guides her pen in both that final unitive state and in the preceding realms
of the castle. Pastor draws attention to the metaphorical connection between the hand, the will and
the self, with the hand not only inferring the saint’s moral authority in her letters, but also having a
sense of autonomy when “figuratively sever[ed]” from the rest of her body by the pen.1115 Pastor
highlights this in terms of Teresa’s repeated calls to the hands of God, that in saint’s eyes function as
a manifestation of His interior self, of His will.1116
Pastor examines only Teresa’s letters and their potential bodily-relic status, but her
connection between the hand and will can be extended into the landscape of Teresa’s mystical texts.
If Teresa’s writing practice is undertaken through a soul whose will is always already Divine, then
whilst it may be her hand that traces the words, it is truly her Beloved who guides her pen. The
Jewish philosopher Philo speaks of a similar experience in an account of his mystical possession by
the Divine in writing, “filled with corybantic frenzy” and unaware of “words spoken, lines
written.”1117 His account of Divinely inspired writing is a remarkably Teresian shower of aquatic
language invoking a state of ecstatic frenzy that climaxes in a “clearest shewing,” a moment of
1114 Mary Frohlich, The Space of Christic Performance, 170; Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 94.
1115 Nuria Sanjuan Pastor, “When Flesh Becomes Word,” 24-5.
1116 Nuria Sanjuan Pastor, “When Flesh becomes Word,” 24.
1117 “Suddenly [I became] full, the ideas falling in a shower from above and being sown invisibly, so that under the
influence of the Divine possession I have been filled with corybantic frenzy and been unconscious of anything, place,
persons present, myself, words spoken, lines written. For I obtained language, ideas, an enjoyment of light, keenest
vision, pellucid distinctness of objects, such as might be received through the eyes as the result of clearest shewing.”
Philo of Alexandria, “On the Migration of Abraham,” in On the Confusion of Tongues. On the Migration of
Abraham. Who Is the Heir of Divine Things? On Mating with the Preliminary Studies, trans. F. H. Colson and G. H.
Whitaker (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1932), 151-2, https://www-loebclassics-
com.bris.idm.oclc.org/view/LCL261/1932/volume.xml.
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understanding from the Divine attained through language. 1118 Similarly in Camino, Teresa infers that
what she writes is not within her control, that she sits at a distance from that which is said.
Plega a Dios yo sepa entenderle, cuantimás decirle … Es como quien oye hablar de lejos,
que no entiende lo que dicen; ansí soy yo, que algunas veces no devo entender lo que digo, y
quiere el Señor sea bien dicho.1119
In trying to explain the distinction between corporeal and spiritual love, she knows not how to speak
of it, nor how the words she has written have emerged: like hearing someone from afar, she does not
know quite what is being said. Given it is His will that guides her writing, she is left at a distance
from what pours forth from the pen despite it being held by her own hand. Here that which she writes
comes through the mouth of her soul, shaped in the mould of her memory and understanding, but the
will to write is something still Other to her self.
There are accounts from Teresa’s canonisation proceedings that recall her writing in a trance
with her face aflame, and which suggest her writing in such rapturous states. 1120 Whilst this
underlines the Divine origin of her texts, we have seen how such ecstasy (a)ffects a separation of her
spirit from the realms of understanding and memory, rendering her in a state in which it was as if she
knew no language.1121 Such experiences constitute a separation of the origin of writing from her
capacity to do so; it seems impossible for her to write in rapture. Thus when she speaks of this
distance it is not any instance of automatic writing; unlike Philo Teresa is not unconscious of the
1118 Philo of Alexandria, “On the Migration of Abraham,” 152.

1119 “I beg the Lord that I know how to understand it, all the more so I can speak of it … It is like someone who
hears what is spoken from afar, in that they do not understand what is said; as am I, in that sometimes I should not
understand what I say, and the Lord desires it is well said.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 263. This
image of someone speaking/hearing from afar appears within both the Codices de el Escorial and the Codices de
Valladolid, but this specific phrasing is taken from the Valladolid edition.
1120 See Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 6.
1121 “Pues si se quiere tomar un libro de romance, persona que le sabía bien leer le acaecía no entender más de él
que si no supiera letra, porque no estaba el entendimiento capaz.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 527.
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words said, nor is she speaking in ecstasy like Maria de Santo Domingo or Juana de la Cruz. 1122 The
sixth moradas from which she writes her Vida and Camino are not realms of continual ecstasy, but of
fleeting caresses by the Amado followed by periods of excruciating separation.1123 Thus it must be in
these agonising moments of estrangement, when her spirit has returned to itself, that she can speak of
her experience. Unlike Philo, Gregory or Angela, Teresa’s writing is the result, not the means of her
moments of Divine embrace.
Whilst there lies an “incommensurable hiatus” between her experience and the act of writing,
one could still envision that act as a Divine encounter, one that, as Kristeva suggests, “‘touches’ the
theopathic state.”1124 As Howells highlights, the external good works of the soul are a fundamental
part of Teresa’s ultimate spiritual union.1125 Thus in the work of writing her Meditaciones and
Moradas, she is further tied to her Beloved, in a state in which “everything that the soul does is itself
an act of relation to God within the mutuality of the Trinity.”1126
Perhaps a more illuminating comparison for this written union would be Marguerite Porete’s
textual annihilation and the “paradox it creates for writing and speech.”1127 As Holmes highlights,
Marguerite’s Mirroir concludes as the soul bursts into song; this song is not her own, nor sung by her
self, but in a voice which “paradoxically proclaims her own nonexistence.” 1128 Here Marguerite’s ‘I’
“dissolves” into her Beloved just as Teresa would two centuries later. 1129 Such an annihilation is at
1123 “¿Si havrán bastado todas estas mercedes que ha hecho el Esposo a el alma para que la palomilla u mariposilla
esté satisfecha (no penséis que la tengo olvidada), y haga asiento adonde ha de morir? No pero cierto, antes está
muy peor; aunque haya mucho anos que reciba estos favores, siempre gime y anda llorosa, porque de cada uno de
ellos le queda mayor dolor. Es la causa que, como va conociendo más y más las grandezas de su Dios y se ve estar
tan ausente y apartada de gozarle, crece mucho más el deseo.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 562-3.
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odds with her authorship, Marguerite seemingly strips her soul bare of the will which provides the
“reason and agency” required to speak.1130 There are strong parallels here with Teresa: both mystics
entangle writing and the will, are driven by an intense love of the Divine, and strip their souls of this
will in search of their Beloved. Yet where Marguerite negates her own self-existence and seeks to
reconcile this apophasis with the writing act, Teresa appears very much herself in writing, she does
not fully disown the text but invokes the Divine hand. Whereas Marguerite’s soul dissolves into
nothingness, Teresa’s stripping of the will is more positive, climaxing not in the utter loss of the soul
but in an exchange of her will for His. The proponents of the writing act remain intact within the
soul, it is only their spiritual origin which annihilates itself in the Other.
As De Certeau argues, “the other that organizes the text is not the (t)exterior [un hors du
texte].”1131 He is not guiding her writing from without but from within, residing at the very heart of
that soul which speaks. Perhaps this is why “havrá de ir como saliere.”1132 If it is He who lies at the
centre of this writing practice, then the words must go down as they come out, one should not
attempt to re-harmonise the Divine. Teresa never explicitly claims to speak as Him; given the
condemnation of the alumbrados, the proclamation of such a prophet-like state would sound very
close to their belief in the Holy Spirit’s illumination the individual. Yet, this sensation is sub-
textually present within Teresa’s writing. The overlap of their selves effected by the union of the
wills and spiritual marriage infers the Divine speaks through her. Not only is it His will that she
speaks, but given His spirit lies at the heart of her act of writing her two later texts Teresa’s writing
appears to function as a speaking through, a speaking from the Divine. Here she speaks of, as, and
with His Spirit.

1131 Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,’’ 82.
1132 “It must go down as it comes out.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 311. This statement occurs within
both the Escorial and the Valladolid editions.
285
“I is an amassment of others.”1133
In her writing there is no “division made by the common man between the logic of oral speech and
the logic of text;”1134 Teresa “habla por escrito.”1135 Her speech in writing has been widely explored
in terms of literary style, voice, and authority.1136 In particular, Weber has clearly defined how
Teresa’s writing presents itself as spoken word, spontaneous and oral not simply because she is
writing in her mother tongue.1137 Weber argues Teresa’s play on syntax, her constant digressions,
interjections and deviations, along with her use of diminutives (mariposilla) and pronunciatory
spellings (ilesia, not iglesia) all suggest an orality, a speech in writing.1138 To this I would also add
Teresa’s continuous use of hablar (to speak) and decir (to say) in order to refer to the act of writing:
“como digo,” “como he dicho.”1139
Despite the rise of female preachers in Castile during the first half of the sixteenth century,
given the fraught Inquisitional context surrounding the alumbrados and women’s’ speech in general,
it is unlikely that Teresa ever experienced a female preacher like Isabel or Juana de la Cruz.1140 Yet,
though she marks text as her most formative source, her Vida “testifies” to the influence of sermons
upon her self, particularly, as Carrera highlights, those which were “passionate and persuasive (‘con
espíritu y bien’).”1141 Furthermore, for Weber, Teresa’s deviations from the norms of written

1134 Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” 881. Pidal makes almost the exact same point: “El lenguaje escrito
se diferencia fundamentalmente del oral en que se ayuda de los ojos para compaginar lo que se va a decir con lo
que se ha dicho. Santa Teresa no hace tal diferencia porque nunca vuele atrás para releer lo que queda sobre el
papel;” Menendez Pidal, “El Estilo de Santa Teresa,” 125.
1135 Ramon Menedez Pidal, “El Estilo de Santa Teresa,” 125.
1136 For example see Edgar Allison Peers, “Saint Teresa’s style: a tentative appraisal,” in Saint Teresa of Jesus and
Other Essays and Addresses (London: Faber and Faber, 1953); Victor Garcia de la Concha El arte literario de Santa
Teresa (Barcelona: Ariel, 1978); Americo Castro, Teresa la santa y otros ensayos (Madrid: Alfaguara 1972).
1137 Alison Weber, Rhetoric of Femininity, 5.
1138 These are similarly highlighted by Pidal, in particular Teresa’s repeated interruptions in which she begs the
Divine to bestow light upon her so that she may understand and speak well. See Ramon Menendez Pidal, “El Estilo
de Santa Teresa,” 133; Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 5.
1139 “As I say,” “as I have said.”
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language signify the influence of such contemporary oral sermons upon her authorial voice and serve
to develop a sense of intimate colloquiality with her daughters. 1142
This oral style constitutes a vital part of Teresa’s “rhetoric of femininity,” a style of writing
in which she deliberately wrote “as women were perceived to speak,” in order to speak as woman.1143
For Weber, Teresa’s style is “a pattern of linguistic choices motivated by deliberate strategies and
constrained by social rules” carefully devised in order to avoid the “double bind” of being
commanded to write and the risks she faced in putting pen to paper. 1144 The order to write allowed
her to speak, to defend her experiences of prayer, but simultaneously left her open to charges of
illuminism, demonic falsity, and lacking the necessary humility for Divine encounter. 1145 As such,
Weber argues that Teresa constructed a voice that subverted such constraints and spoke to her
daughters of prayer and theology without significant retaliation for encroaching upon the male
prerogative. Such a voice drew only a cursory reading from male-overseers but a much closer
reading from her daughters.1146 Similarly Pastor proposes Teresa’s letters that are written in a
language “rich in subtext,” enabling her to both confess and teach whilst avoiding “inquisitive
readers.”1147
A vital part of this “rhetoric of femininity” is humility. In writing her first text, Vida (1562-
3), Teresa is caught between an order to proclaim the validity of her practice and experience, but she

1144 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 15, 46.
1147 Nuria Sanjuan Pastor, “When Flesh becomes Word,” 20. The only text of Teresa’s to come into any true
suspicion was her Vida. A copy of her autobiography is believed to have been denounced to the Inquisition during
1574-5 by Dona Ana de Mendoza, Princess of Eboli out of spite. Th Princess took the Discalced habit in Pastrana
after her husband’s death, and having been the patroness of the convent, but she behaved so badly that Teresa
moved her foundation to Segovia. Despite her vengeful attempts and the fear they instilled in Teresa and her
confessors, the text was judged entirely favourably the Inquisition and was eventually returned, copied and
circulated. See E. Allison Peers, “Life,” 1:7.
287
is prohibited from doing so:1148 how could she defend herself without “appropriating the male
prerogative in theological disquisition?”1149 How could she describe the glory of such divine
experiences whilst demonstrating her own worthiness and requisite humility?1150 To escape this
“double bind” Weber argues that Teresa develops a “rhetoric of humility.”1151 The practice of
demonstrating one’s humility in text is not new and Weber outlines how Teresa situates herself
within a spiritual tradition that elaborates “a rhetoric that can give voice to a silent virtue.”1152
Although she positions Teresa in relation to Franciscan humility clauses through Osuna, Weber
defines Teresa’s appropriation of the tradition as novel.1153 Rather than a traditional prologue
proclaiming one’s sinful inadequacy, Teresa interjects two or three humility clauses per page.
Furthermore, rather than offering any specificity concerning past sins, her statements wander off and
are primarily references to her womanhood.1154 Yet this humility has a tinge of irony; Teresa’s
constant (a/i)llusion’s to her ignorance and worthlessness are a little challenging to take seriously.1155
Jantzen underscores a similar tone in Hildegard who refers to herself as a “poor little creature.” 1156
Yet she was literate in Latin, a prophetic visionary, and a woman authorised, respected and in regular

1149 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 46. Weber also highlights that Teresa is not only hyper aware of the
shadow of the Inquisition that looms over her, but of the examples of women in similar position who came before.
On the one hand Maria de Santo Domingo, only twenty years her junior, experiences of visions, trances and
prophecies were papally certified, and she plays an important role in the reform of Dominican houses in Toledo. In
contrast, Magdalena de la Cruz, a Franciscan nun who experienced stigamata and prophecies, was condemned by
the Inquisition in 1546 for the demonic origins of her experience. As such Teresa was likely keen conscious of the
potential paths ahead of her when she takes up the pen.
1155 Carrera makes a similar point by arguing that Teresa’s rhetoric is more concerned with demonstrating her
credibility and validity as a writer than her humility as a mystic. By claiming that she would rather write about her
‘grandes pecados y ruin vida,’ Carrera argues that Teresa seeks to reject the vanity implied within her
autobiographical approach. See: Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography, 163.
1156 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 161. For examples see: Hildegard of Bingen,
“Hildegard to Conrad, Archbishop of Mainz 1163-5(?),” in Letters of Hildegard of Bingen: Volume 1, trans. Joseph L.
Baird and Radd K. Ehrman (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 75,
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correspondence with emperors, bishops, and fellow mystical authors, “‘poor little creature’
indeed!”1157
Whilst I would argue that Teresa is perhaps not as conscious as Weber portrays in act of
writing given her occaisional apparent dislocation, Weber’s analysis is a cornerstone of Teresian
discourse. Furthermore, it is important to note that this written speech allows Teresa to teach within a
context in which she would not have been permitted to preach. Following the prominence of female
preachers within the alumbrados, during the time of Teresa’s writing the Inquisition proceeded with
an intense suspicion of any woman who dared to speak openly about the experience of visions and
unitive prayer.1158 In this sense, Teresa cannot speak (publicly) without writing, and, it would seem,
nor can she write without speaking as/from the Divine. Yet, although He speaks through her, their
union does not necessarily mean that Teresa writes in one clear and united voice.
In her examination of Catherine of Genoa, Ana Antonopoulis employs the notion of écriture
féminine to unpick the complex weave of voices that emerge from the role of confessors,
communities and reporters in Catherine’s texts.1159 In doing so she seeks to liberate Catherine’s
ascetic mysticism from the traditional reading that marks such practices as the result of a feminine
self-hatred that emerges from the constraints placed upon the female body. Antonopoulis argues that
écriture féminine’s attention to voice, body, and meaning can demonstrate how instead Catherine’s
asceticism proposes a theology of the spiritual possibilities of fleshliness.1160
There are clear parallels between Catherine and Teresa’s mystical theology: both Catherine’s
ascetical mysticism and the corporeal encryption of Teresa’s soul speak to the “possibilities provided

1159 Ana Antonopoulis, “Writing the Mystic Body: Sexuality and Textuality in the écriture-féminine of Saint
Catherine of Genoa,” Hypatia 6, no. 3 (1991), 188, https://www.jstor.org/stable/3809847.

1160 Ana Antonopoulis, “Writing the Mystic Body,” 187-8.
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by fleshliness;”1161 Teresa’s transformation of the soul like gold in the crucible finds its reflection in
Catherine’s process of a refinement of the tripartite self towards the Divine.1162 Although her texts,
written by her “own” hand, don’t necessarily present that same tangle of external voices, Teresa’s
body similarly presents a “site for competing discourses.”1163 Teresa’s entwinement of soul and body
is the site of mystical experience, but also, as Pastor has shown, her writing is built upon references
to the suffering and experiential body and as such her texts have their own corporeality. 1164 Thus, we
can come to untangle the competing voices within Teresa’s soul-body castle from a similar
perspective.
Despite the distinctions between her earlier and later texts in terms of their production
through the soul, Teresa’s tone remains consistent - all are written through the same mould of
memory and understanding. Yet there is not always one singular voice speaking within the texts;
Teresa repeatedly details things that the Divine has spoken directly to her.
Que muchas cosas de las que aquí́ escrivo no son de mi cabeza, sino que me las decía este mi
Maestro celestial; y porque en las cosas que yo señaladamente digo: «esto entendí» u «me
dijo el Señor», se me hace escrúpulo grande poner u quitar una sola sílaba que sea; ansí,
cuando pontualmente no se me acuerda bien todo, va dicho como de mí. 1165
From these divine interjections Kristeva identifies the presence of a “Third Person” in Teresa’s
writing, someone speaking between Teresa and her Beloved. 1166 This third party is, in Kristeva’s
1161 This term Antonopoulis borrows from Bynum. See: Caroline Walker-Bynum, Holy feast and holy fast, 6.
1162 “Que en esta pena se purificava el alma, y se labra u purifica como el oro en el crisol.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro
de la Vida,” 112.
1163 Ana Antonopoulis, “Writing the Mystic Body,” 188.
1165 “Many things of which I write here, they are no from my own mind, but things that are said to me by my
Heavenly master. And because I mark these things with «this I understood», or «the Lord said to me», I am
scrupulous not to add or remove even a syllable of what is said; so, from time to time when I do not quite
remember what was said, it is said as if it were my own.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 217.
290
eyes, the Voice of Teresa’s spirit dissolved into the Divine, a “nonperson” lost into the abyss of the
Other who speaks to Teresa from within the soul in the mirror of Marguerite. 1167 Her argument for
this other Voice is constructed upon a distinction within Teresa’s Vida between the words God
speaks to her, which she quotes word-for-word, and those which she writes down as if they were her
own as she cannot remember how they were phrased. For Kristeva this identifies the presence of
another, that of her spirit merged with His in the form of an “ideal [Freudian] superego” who speaks
to Teresa and whose words she transcribes as those of someone distinct from herself. 1168
Given the structure of her soul however, this “Third Person,” appears slightly misplaced.1169
In writing the most intimate realms her spirit is inseparable from His, dissolved, undistinguishable
like raindrops in a puddle. This overlap at the very centre of the soul does not (a)ffect a greater
distinction long-term between soul and spirit, but rather the transformed spirit returns to the outer
realms of the soul to write through His will. Although Teresa is undone in Him, there is an inferred
reciprocity to this union. She gives her self to Him and He takes possession of her soul through His
will and spirit. Furthermore, the dissolution of her spirit into His must (a)ffect some transference of
His spirit into her soul or else this spiritual spark that fuels the soul would be snuffed out. Thus, there
can be no division in the spirit that writes, it is wholly and utterly Teresian and Divine in nature, a
reciprocal co-dissolution and co-authorship. She should not hear the voice of her spirit as other to her
self.
Thus, Kristeva’s identification of a “Third person” does not quite correlate. 1170 Rather,
perhaps a more (a)ffective distinction lies between the voice of Teresa, united in spirit and will with
the Divine, and the voice of the rest of the Trinity. Teresa’s spiritual matrimony constitutes a union

291
of her spirit with the spirit of the Divine, not the entirety of the Divine being. As Howells outlines,
this ultimate union is Christ-like, one in which there is still some distinction, not between her spirit
and His but between the trinitarian parts; the “soul shares in the inner life of the Trinity without
losing certain key aspects of its created structure” maintaining the “distinction-within-unity of the
persons of the Trinity.”1171 Her aquatic dissolution may infer spiritual indistinction, but the other
parts of the trinity maintain some otherness to her own self. Therefore, it would seem plausible that
this other voice Teresa hears is not that of her spirit united in His, but voice of the Father or Son. In
ultimate union there remains some gap or interface between Teresa and the Father/Son from which
language necessarily emerges.
Yet Kristeva’s ‘third person’ is appealing. Throughout her Camino, Meditaciones, and
Moradas Teresa speaks of her own experience as though it were that of another. She repeatedly
writes of her mystical experiences, painful, pleasurable and otherwise, as if it were not she who
experienced them.
Yo sé de una que, si no la socorriera Dios presto con esta agua viva, tan en gran abundancia
que casi le sacaba de sí con arrobamientos.1172
To an extent this could be a signature of her “rhetoric of humility,” a (re)telling of her experience
from afar to convey disbelief that such blessings could be bestowed upon a contemptable creature.1173
However, this third person point of view also distances the Teresa from her past self pre-
transformation, it serves to signify that she is no longer that same person. The author of the
Dionysian corpus performs a similar separation of self from text. Charles Stang argues that in writing
1172 “I know of one who, if God did help her quickly with this living water, so great was the abundance that it
almost seized her out of herself with raptures.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 316. This comment
appears in both the Codices de el Escorial and de Valladolid.
292
pseudonymously, the author (a)ffects a split in his self, rendering himself “two in one” by
impersonating the first century Areopagite.1174 This provokes a doubling in which the author is both
his self and another, whilst at the same time never really himself at all; in effect this becomes an
“erotic and ecstatic practice,” a means of performing apophasis in writing, through which the author
unsays not just the Divine but his own self and “thereby soliciting a deifying union with unknown
God.”1175
Tyler has shown how such self-deconstructive and erotically affective approaches of the
pseudonymous author filter down to Teresa through Osuna, and here she appears to further embody a
sense of this “dissolution of the personality” in text.1176 In writing her experience from a distance,
from a point of self-negating disownment, she (a)ffects a new self transformed in(to) Him,
simultaneously herself and the Other in spirit. She splits her self from her self, and, to borrow from
Carrera, moves to write from the “privileged perspective of being closer to God,” looking back along
the path that “made her become what she now is.”1177 Here she performs a similarly ecstatic and
erotic practice, she becomes the voyeur re-membering the encounters that made her who she is
now.1178 Thus, she provokes a third ecstatic splitting: first she stands outside her self, split in the
mirror of soul-castle to begin the recollective path; second she is split in the Mirror of Humility and
spiritually swept into the arms of her Beloved; finally she now stands outside her old self as and in
Him, split between her old self and this new self-in/as-Him. She may not go as far in the apophasis of
her self as Marguerite, and yet still “the scriptural experience of letting the other write is not an affair
1174 Charles Stang, “Writing,” The Cambridge Companion to Christian Mysticism, eds. Amy Hollywood and Patricia Z.
Beckmann (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 260, https://doi-
1175 Charles Stang, “Writing,” 260.
1176 Peter Tyler, “Mystical Strategies and Performative Discourse,” 181; Peter Tyler, “Teresa of Avila ’s Picture of
the Soul: Platonic or Augustinian?,” 104.

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of theory, but takes place ‘today.’”1179 In this sense, when united with her in spirit, the Other comes
to write through Teresa pseudonymously, through this new transformed self s/He has carves for her
self with the pen.
Therefore, perhaps Kristeva is correct in identifying the construction of a third person, one
who is “definitively” Teresa and yet slightly other to herself. 1180 In writing of her self retrospectively
Teresa constructs a double identity, the ‘I’ that writes and the ‘she’ that was transformed. This new
self in/as Him looks back upon the mystical encounters of her past self, re-membering their
embraces, but she is no longer wholly that self who experienced them.
Writing as self-realisation
This third person demarcates a fundamental function of Teresa’s writing: writing from the position of
her self transformed in(to) Him Teresa comes to manifest this new self in which He speaks through
her. It is a “re-birth,” a metamorphosis of her “supposed identity in the very act of writing.”1181 By
having Him write through her Teresa crystalises her mystical transformation into the Other by
writing her self as/in/through Him. This textual manifestation of her self-as-Other, functions not only
internally through their union of the spirit and wills, but also through the construction the text itself.
Whilst she cannot safely claim to be the Divine, she can construct herself as a writer in His image,
subtly inferring their interconnection and her own metamorphosis. In this sense her writing functions
as another mode of imitation and meditation, a further cycle of the imitatio that drew her within her
self.
Given her entanglement of text and experience, Marguerite d’Oignt will again prove an
illuminating model here to untangle these patterns of writing and transformation. In her Page of

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Meditations Marguerite speaks of her experience of God’s presence, one that follows the four-runged
ladder of Lectio Divina as devised by her fellow Carthusian Guigo. This experience moves her to
writing as her heart is so full of what God has inscribed upon it that she feels she will die if the words
are not erased. 1182 Here Stephanie Paulsell identifies a dilemma: Marguerite desires to keep the self-
knowledge, but her tortured heart is so full that she can think of nothing else.1183 Writing reconciles
the dilemma. Transcribing His inscription upon herself onto the page, Marguerite records the gifts
she received and yet relieves the intensity of her suffering. This “scriptio divina” not only adds a
fifth rung to Guigo’s spiritual ladder but also functions as an imitation of the divine act of writing
upon the soul.1184
There are profound parallels between Teresa and Marguerite: both their transformations are
grounded in reading and meditation, and climax in true self-knowledge in the Divine. Furthermore,
they share a materiality of the Divine encounter, the inscription and carving of words (and images)
onto the surface of the soul. Importantly, Marguerite highlights how Teresa’s writing functions as a
similar emulation of the Divine who carves His self (image) into the fabric of the soul.
Comencé a tratar de mi confesión … un discurso de mi vida lo más claramente que yo
entendí.1185
Carrera marks Teresa’s Vida as a particular “textual self-construction” in which Teresa draws upon
authoritative and hagiographical texts to authorise and give credit to her divinely inspired
1182 Marguerite D’Oingt, “Page of Meditations,” in The Writings of Marguerite of Oingt, trans. Renate Blumenfeld-
Kosinski (Camrbidge: D. S. Brewer, 1990), 26; Stephanie Paulsell, “Writing and Mystical Experience in Marguerite
d’Oingt and Virginia Woolf,” Comparative Literature 44, no. 3 (1992), 256,
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1183 Stephanie Paulsell, “Writing and Mystical Experience,” 256.
1185 “I began to speak of my confession … a discourse of my life as clearly as I understood or knew it to be.” Teresa
de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 130.
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authorship.1186 Augustine, St Jerome and St Gregory form textual models to which our mystic turns
in order to “interpret her life at difficult turning points” thus demonstrating her own orthodoxy. 1187 In
particular, the retrospective perspective of Augustine’s Confessions, his emphasis upon “the gap
between his vile former self and his present self,” offers her a retrospective model for her self-
construction in text.1188
Es otro libro nuevo de aquí adelante, digo otra vida nueva. La de hasta aquí era mía; la que
he vivido desde comencé a declarar estas cosas de oración, es que vivía Dios en mí.1189
Yet her “textual self-construction” is also fundamentally Christological.1190 Written from the
amorous state of their desposorio, the first part of her Vida details her childhood and profession, the
second offers a treatise on her four waters of prayer (her first model for mystical practice and
experience). She begins the final chapters, which detail her mystic conversion and her first
foundation of St Joseph, with the disclaimer that from here onwards is a new life. That which she
outlines before was her own, but that which goes forth is a new life: His life in her, her life in Him
written from the union of their wills. United with Christ in a parallel Image becoming, she comes to
write retrospectively of her transformation into Him. There is an inherent reciprocity here; drawing
on De Certeau, Frohlich underlines how Christ as mirror opens an “abyss of alternation” in which
Teresa’s interior is spatially reconstructed into the space of Christ “who lives and acts in her.” Yet
simultaneously, she opens up a “space in Christ in which she lives and acts in Him.”1191 Up to this
point in her recollective path, Christ has written Himself into her soul-body, re-forming her self in
1186 Elena Carrera, Teresa of Avila ’s Autobiography, 165, 169.

1189 “It is another new book from her onward, I mean another new life. That which came before was mine; that
which I have lived since I began to speak of these things of prayer, is that which God lived in me.” Teresa de Jesús,
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His image, and now Teresa turns to transcribe this transformation. 1192 Unlike Marguerite, she does
not turn to writing in order to relieve the tortuous effects of this transformation upon the soul, but
rather to prove its credibility. This division within her Vida between her old life and the(ir) new,
serves to mark her transformation; like her references to that mysterious “Third Person,” this textual
division embodies her authorial position as writing in/of/as/with Him.1193 In a further cycle of
imitatio, here she mimics those transformative inscriptions and impressions which carved her into
this Divine position.
Furthermore, this transcription is scripted in a mirror of Christ’s Passion, His life and death
on earth within which she wanders in meditation. As Kristeva argues, “Teresa recognizes herself in
Christ’s incarnation and resurrection and appropriates them, using them as a template and retracing
their stations in her fiction.”1194 Her embodiment of His Image is not consigned to her path of
suffering through the castle, rather in writing “the story she must tell is of Christ’s itinerary in
her.”1195 She may draw upon her saintly forefathers in order to demonstrate her authorial and
mystical credibility, but fundamentally Christ’s life, death, and rebirth once again offer the mould in
which she re-casts her self in writing.1196 Within the pages of her Life, Teresa constructs her new
divinely-espoused self in the reflective model of He in whose Image she has been re-made.
Cuando se quitaron muchos libros de romance, que no se leyesen, yo sentí mucho, porque
algunos me dava recreación leerlos, y yo no podía ya, por dejarlos en latín; me dijo el
Señor: «No tengas pena, que yo te daré libro vivo».1197

1197 “When they removed many vernacular books, so that they would not be read, I felt it terribly, for many gave
me pleasure in reading them, and I could now no longer do so, for they only remained in Latin; the Lord said to me:
«Have no pain, I will give you a living book».” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 142.
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Life, transformation, and writing are further entwined when the Father proclaims He will give her “a
living book,” as a consolation for the banning of many vernacular spiritual and texts under the Index
of 1559. There is some debate as to the form of this “living book:” Rowan Williams argues that her
Camino aims to provide this “living book” in which Christ speaks directly, so one can come to
understand mental prayer with only a layperson’s knowledge of spirituality.1198 Alternatively, Molly
Borowitz proposes Las Moradas, which she argues Teresa constructed in order to ‘smuggle’ images
and teaching of her favourite spiritual authors on mental prayer to her daughters. 1199 Whilst both
perspectives emerge from a shared foundation, given that Teresa’s Moradas is founded on the
premise that she her self is the soul-castle, this later text has perhaps more ‘living’ implications. Like
Marguerite, Teresa constitutes a site of Divine inscription, His words and images engraved into the
fabric of her soul as she moves through the castle. This recollective in-furling is a dual self-
construction: she unfolds the soul-castle as she progresses through her self, and this movement re-
constructs the image of her soul in pursuit of spiritual perfection. Yet through this vision of the
“living book,” one could envision this Christ-like self-construction through language and experience
as also a becoming of that promised text.
Su Majestad ha sido el libro verdadero adonde he visto las verdades. ¡Bendito sea tal libro,
que deja imprimido lo que se ha de leer y hacer de manera que no se puede olvidar!1200
Again, this is an imitation, for He is the true book within which she has seen the Truth and so her
textual transformation is again doubled: along her interior path He writes upon the book of her soul,
1198 Rowan Williams, “Teresa as a Reader of the Gospels,” 82.

1199 Molly E. Borowitz, “Prolific Metaphors and Smuggled Meanings in Teresa of Avila ’s ‘Las Moradas del Castillo
Interior’,” Hispanic Review 87, no. 1 (2019), 54,
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1200 “His Majesty has been the true book where I have seen the truths. Blessed be such a book that leaves
impressed that which must be read and done in such a way that it can never be forgotten!” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro
de la Vida,” 142.
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and this becoming climaxes in her transformation into Him in spirit, an ultimate union with the Book
Himself who is also her Author. Thus, she is transformed in(to) a writer and constructs a new book
that confirms her new self as/in Him. Here, living becomes entangled with writing, writing like
breathing is an exhalation from interior to exterior originating from that vital spiritual spark
(pnuema). Though she puts pen to paper, it is He who speaks through her, His life in her that is
spoken on the page.
Ha tantos días que escriví lo pasado sin haver tenido lugar para tornar a ello, que, si no lo
tornase a leer, no sé lo que decía. Por no ocupar tiempo havrá de ir como saliere, sin
concierto.1201
Marguerite’s scriptio divina (a)ffects an overlap, a twist in Guigo’s ladder that transforms it into a
spiralling form.1202 By transcribing the text the Divine carved upon her heart Marguerite constructs
another text for Lectio Divina, one upon which she will meditate, provoking further Divine
encounters. 1203 Although Teresa claims not to re-read her own writings, like Marguerite there is a
cyclicality to her linguistic cord. Firstly, her writing is a form of re-membering, a (re)visualisation of
past experiences through the template of Christ’s Passion, itself the central pillar of that
transformational recollective movement. To write the experience of her past self she must
(re)envision her encounter with the Beloved and cast it in the frame of His life. Whereas these
experiences were provoked by meditation upon scriptural word-images, Teresa’s writing act is an
almost meditative self-reconstruction of those experiences in her own word-images.
1201 “There have been so many days since I last wrote without having any chance to return to it, that, without re-
reading it, I do not know what I said. In order not to waste time it will have to remain as it came out, without
revision.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 311.
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Moreover, her texts are instructive guides to mental prayer that seek to provoke another
meditative cycle of the coil in her daughters. Just as Augustine’s “narrative is constructed on the
Christian principle of identification … with the purpose of edifying listeners,” in writing Teresa
similarly seeks to inspire the recollective ingression of her readers. 1204 The work of writing invokes
another recollective iteration, multiple even, extending the transformative linguistic cord beyond her
self.1205 In both instances “scriptio serves lectio, which in turn serves experientia,” writing not only
stems from and constitutes a mode of union, but seeks to engender it in others.1206
Thus, Teresa “founded herself” in writing, and this textual foundation extends into that other
“transitory avatar” of her reform.1207 As Kristeva notes, a “striking coincidence” exists between that
first instance of her reform at the foundation St Josef, and the completion of her first text in 1562;1208
in fact the foundations themselves are almost constructed in text, through her continuous
correspondence seeking sites, support, and seclusion for her reform. For De Certeau, Teresa’s
Moradas and its earthly manifestation perform that same function as the original scriptural text, they
offer “a place enclosed, in which lovers can walk freely and speak to the Beloved.”1209 On the page
she carves a space for her new self, this “living book,” with the pen, both in books and buildings. 1210
Her writing and founding, the same act on different planes, embody her transformed state in text.
This writing practice (scriptio divina) establishes a new identity, defining her new self in the empty

1205 One could even suggest, following Caterina de Vigri’s image of the soul as a blank sheet of paper, that in the
construction and circulation of her texts, Teresa comes to write upon the soul’s others. See: Caterina de Vigri, I
sermoni, 18.
1207 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 19; Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,” 96.
1210 Kristeva marks Teresa’s foundations as “themselves objects of love and writing,” and argues that the “’living
book’ was yourself [Teresa] and your monastic foundation.” See Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 67, 435.
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space of the autobiographical ‘I’ of the mystic text.1211 In writing she founds her self as La Madre of
the new order, Teresa at one, in one, and as one with the Other.
An appropriate voice
Despite an emphasis on this Voice of Teresa as La Madre, Kristeva underscores an apparent disdain
or horror at the destiny of motherhood, one that drives Teresa towards her profession in 1535.1212 In
her Vida Teresa constructs her mother as an icon of Christian virtue:1213 Beatriz is modestly,
uncaringly beautiful, virtuous, a Cristiana vieja from whom Teresa learns her rosary and a love of
courtly literature.1214 Yet when Beatriz dies in childbirth, Teresa has no desire for a life of continual
gestatory suffering in her mother’s saintly image.1215 Kristeva however, comes to correlate the
trauma of this “Christlike sacrifice in the female mode”, with Teresa’s monastic profession, her
retreat into the claustro of the Incarnation.1216 As we saw in the previous chapter, Christ even comes
to replace this mother in His nourishing presence: “through the mouth that I fill with words instead of
my mother whom I miss.”1217 Mujica underlines a similar maternal tension: Teresa speaks fondly of
her mother in writing her life, but in retrospect she sees that love of romantic novels which she
inherits as a flaw, as a distraction from the spiritual path.1218

1213 “Mi madre también tenía muchas virtudes y pasó la vida con grandes enfermedades. Grandísima honestidad.
Con ser de harta hermosura, jamás se entendió que diese ocasión a que ella hacia caso de ella; porque, con morir
de triente y tres años, ya su traje era como de persona de mucha edad. Muy apacible y de harto entendimiento.
Fueron grandes los travajos que pasaron el tiempo que vivió. Murió muy cristianamente.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro
de la Vida,” 34.
1214 Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la Vida,” 34-6; Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 144.
1216 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 129, 144. In Spanish claustro is cloister, but claustro materno is the womb.
Kristeva uses this play to speak to Teresa’s profession within the wall of the convent of the Incarnation as a
regression into a maternal and womblike state.
1217 Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, trans. Leon S. Roudiez (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1982), 41.

1218 Barbara Mujica, “Three Sisters of Carmen,” 140.
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Estas palabras regaladas déjenlas para con su Esposo, … Es muy de mujeres, y no querría
yo, hijas mías, lo fuésedes en nada, ni lo pareciésedes, sino varones fuertes; que si ellas
hacen lo que es en sí, el Señor las hará tan varoniles, que espanten a los hombres.1219
Furthermore, Teresa’s texts demonstrate a distaste for femininity: Camino calls her daughters not to
speak to one another with terms of endearment, but to save such words for the Beloved. This practice
is too feminine (muy de mujeres) and she wants them not to be women but strong men (varones
fuertes). This same phrase she uses to describe the letrados who speak of theology, but due to their
virility and strength overlook some things of spirituality that women can know by experience. 1220 If
her daughters do all that is in their power, the Divine will make them so virile (tan varoniles) that it
will be shocking to such men. Similarly, Teresa de Cartagena uses varones/varonil to describe men’s
surprise that she, a woman, penned such a text as her Arboleda.1221 Yet whilst her Teresian
predecessor acknowledges and defends her own feminine/female authorship, our Teresa seemingly
writes from a state in which she claims to have surpassed her own femininity, she is not like a
woman but has the hard heart (recio corazon) of a man, the “virile soul of a monk.” 1222 As Carrera
argues, there is a sense (within Camino) of transcendence, or of distancing of her self from traditional
1219 “Leave these sweet words for your Spouse … It is very feminine, and I do not want, my daughters, for you to be
so in any way, but strong men; that if they do all that is in their power, the Lord will make them so virile, that it will
shock men.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 270-1. This comment appears in both the Codices de el
Escorial and de Valladolid, but the particular phrasing is taken from the Valladolid edition.
1220 “y este amor, junto con los años y espiriencia que tengo de algunos monasterios, podrá ser aproveche para
atinar en cosas menudas más que los letrados, que, por tener otras ocupaciones más importantes y ser varones
fuertes, no hacen tanto caso de las cosas que en si no paracen nada y a cosa tan flaca como somos las mujeres
todo nos puede dañar.” Teresa de Jesús, “Camino de Perfección,” 237. This comment appears within both editions.
1221 Teresa de Cartegena, “Admiraçión Operum Dey,” 115-6.
1222 “Por grandísimos trabajos que he tenido en esta vida no me acuerdo haverlas dicho, que no soy nada mujer en
estas cosas, que tengo recio corazón.” Teresa de Jesús, “Cuentas de Conciencia,” 594-5; Joris Karl Huysmans, En
Route (Sawtry : Dedalus, 2002), 221.
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gender stereotypes, and overcoming of traditional femininity by sheer force of will. 1223 Yet her texts
are also littered with lamentations and confessions of women’s weakness.
Weber has shown this complex interplay of sexual apologia and renunciation to be central to
her rhetoric of humility. Although it is almost comical at times, such self-denigration was an
important facet of speaking “as a woman was perceived to speak.”1224 In fact, the strategy was so
effective that it led some to believe that, given she writes so well, her texts must be divine in
inspiration as they exceed the capabilities of the weaker sex. 1225 Therefore, Teresa’s call to the
feminine voice reinforces her state of Divine union, her inferred claim to speak as, in, or from Him.
Pastor encounters something very similar within Teresa’s letters who subtextual style functions
through an “written style appropriate to her status.”1226
This ‘appropriate’ voice is one that appropriates, a realisation of her transformation in(to) the
Divine on the page by imitation of the Divine and His Christological template. There is, however, a
sense that the very sound of this ‘appropriate’ voice may be an appropriation. Prefacing her
Meditaciones, Teresa defends her exegesis because the lyrics often move her to ecstatic
comprehension of their meaning without ever understanding the words.1227 Yet her relationship to the
1223 Elena Carrera, “Writing Rearguard Action, Fighting Ideological Selves: Teresa of Avila 's Reinterpretation of
Gender Stereotypes in Camino de perfección,” Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 79 (2002), 300,
https://doi.org/10.3828/bhs.79.3.3.
1225 “How was it possible, except by diving inspiration, for an ignorant woman to write what she did, and in such a
particular style, plain and humble on the one hand, yet also grave and sententious, with such remarkable words, so
pregnant with divine mysteries!” Cipriano de Aguayo quoted in Felix G. Olmedo, “Santa Teresa de Jesús y los
predicadores de siglo de oro,” Boletin de la Real Academia de la Historia 84 (1924), 290.
1227 “Haviéndome a mí el Señor de algunos años acá dado un regalo grande cada vez que oyo o leo algunas
palabras de los Cantares de Salomón, en tanto estremo, que sin entender la claridad del latín en romance me
recogía más y movía mi alma que los libros muy devotos que entiendo – y esto es casi ordinario -, y aunque me
declaravan el romance, tampoco le entendía más…* que sin entenderlo mi…* apartar mi alma de sí.” Teresa de
Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 423. No autograph of this text exists but several copies, however,
survived. These Obras Completas takes their text of her Meditaciones from a copy made under the censorship of
another of Teresa’s confessors, P. Banez. This copy is missing the last five lines of the first page (prologue) hence
the marked gaps, but Teresa’s meaning remains clear.
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text goes even deeper, as Estévez López underlines, such scripture permeates her corpus.1228 Each of
her four mystic texts demonstrates a taste of the Song’s style: the bride’s procession towards the
Esposo, a union of loving eros that climaxes in an ecstatic drunkenness, not to mention the highly
sensory, sensual and flavourful experiences of such union. This is not to say that the Songs are the
only spiritual source that coloured Teresa’s writing. As Borowitz has shown Teresa’s texts, in
particular her Moradas, are flooded with images and ideas borrowed from her favourite spiritual
authors.1229 Here, however, Teresa’s scriptural appropriation lies closest to her writing from the
Spirit.
Hilary Pearson argues that Teresa uses scriptural references as means of illustrating her point,
“rather than to act as an authority for it” and McGinn extends this observation to the female mystical
tradition.1230 Yet through her commentary Teresa arguably bucks this tradition and, given her close
relationship to the Song in experience and in writing, one might suggest that an appropriation of its
scriptural tone serves to reinforce her authorial Voice. Whilst it may not be a conscious
appropriation, “havrá de ir como saliere,” such scriptural infusion not only situates her within a long
tradition of mystical authors, but if her writing starts to sound like the Song, then does it not further
underline that it is the Beloved who speaks through her soul?1231
Though she may be the first female commentator on the Song, she is by no means the first
female mystic to borrow its tone and imagery; she follows in a long chain of footsteps in this
mystical arena, many of whom address, at least subtextually, woman’s (in)capacity to write. In
particular, Teresa de Cartagena not only constructs her first text with the echoes of the Songs
arboreal and fruity tone but following the reactionary (male) response she pens a direct defence of
1229 Molly E. Borowitz, “Prolific Metaphors and smuggled meanings,” 53.
1230 Hilary Pearson, “The ‘Library’ of Santa Teresa,” 174; Bernard McGinn, “The Language of Inner Experience in
Christian Mysticism,” 164.

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her (female) authorship. Her Admiraçión Operum Dey draws upon Corinthians 3.5 to argue that
women are capable of discursion just like their male counterparts as all (their) capabilities come from
God and that “the same God who can ‘graft’ knowledge onto the male intellect can likewise ‘graft’ it
onto the female intellect.”1232 In defence of her public action of Reform – a violation of Paul’s
domestic incarceration of woman -, our Teresa offers a similar (Divinely inspired) justification:
“«Diles que no se sigan por sola una parte de la Escritura, que miran otras».”1233
In her analysis of Catherine of Genoa’s écriture féminine, Antonopoulis argues for a “unity
of discourse” between the text and body because, as the Bride, Catherine’s textual symbols and lived
experience are both female.1234 Whilst male mystical writers would transfigure themselves into the
role of the Bride, there always remains some gap between the female signs of the text and their
experience through the male body. Catherine not only experiences unity of her soul with the Divine,
but of the textual signs of the Song-style literature and her corporeal experience.
Y no yendo con curiosidad – como dije al principio -, sino tomando lo que Su Majestad nos
diere a entender, tengo por cierto no le pesa que nos consolemos y deleitemos en sus
palabras y obras.1235
Slade encounters a similar sense within Teresa’s Meditaciones in terms of a turn towards the Divine
for the authority to write on the Song, arguing that Teresa justifies her exegesis by privileging a
feminine mode of scriptural interpretation through experience over the male interpretative
1232 Ronald E. Surtz, Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain, 29; Teresa de Cartegena,
“Admiraçión Operum Dey,” 115.
1233 Teresa de Jesús, “Cuentas de Conciencia,” 601. Slade highlights this self-defence and clearly explains how “the
proposition works as an analogy of proportion: as wisdom is incomplete in human beings and complete in God, so
wisdom, incomplete in one part of Scripture, is complete in the whole.” See: Carole Slade, “Saint Teresa’s
“Meditaciones sobre Los Cantares”: The Hermeneutics of Humility and Enjoyment,” 28.
1234 Ana Antonopoulis, “Writing the Mystic Body,” 198.
1235 Teresa de Jesús, “Meditaciones sobre los Cantares,” 426. Slade uses this passage to make her argument.
305
discursion.1236 Slade in fact argues that Teresa’s “hermeneutics of humility and enjoyment” allows
her to assume the role of the Bride in a way that the likes of Bernard could not.1237 Therefore Teresa
comes to experience a similar unity to Catherine, and (perhaps) envisions her understanding through
female experience as superior.
Antonopoulis’s “unity of discourse,” however, only extends to the experience engendered by
the reading of the Songs, not the writing upon it, and here we may encounter some gap between
Teresa’s experience and her writing.1238 Her transformational experience may occur through her
female body, but the Other in whom she dissolves, in/as/through whom she is written is only
corporeally conceivable in His male form. Their spirits may unite, there may be a sense of reciprocity
to this spiritual unity, but He remains superior, she is lost to and in Him: can her writing be
considered an écriture féminine if that which lies at the heart of her Voice is almost male? When the
Origin of her speech act lies in the Logos Himself, it is possible she writes beyond the constraints of
phallogocentrism? Whilst full exploration of such questions is beyond the scope of this chapter, here
the qualities of écriture féminine will serve to explore the form of her Voice that comes from Him.
Cixous speaks of how in the act of writing her self, “woman will return to the body that has
been more than confiscated from her,” and some sense of this can be uncovered in Teresa’s writing
practice.1239 Following rapture or ultimate mystical union, Teresa’s spirit returns to the outer realms
of the soul-body structure to write; He releases her from His possession of her most intimate part,
and she returns to the remains of her self, to a soul encrypted within her body. She is “confiscated”
1236 Carole Slade, “Saint Teresa’s “Meditaciones sobre Los Cantares”: The Hermeneutics of Humility and
Enjoyment,” 30-31.
1237 Carole Slade, “Saint Teresa’s “Meditaciones sobre Los Cantares”: The Hermeneutics of Humility and
Enjoyment,” 31, 37.

1238 Ana Antonopoulis, “Writing the Mystic Body,” 198. Kristeva uses ‘hymen’ to refer to the thin membrane or gap
between Teresa’s prayer states and practice of writing. See Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 278.
1239 Hélène Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” 880.
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from this soul-body in rapture, a soul-body whose capacities were confiscated from her by a lifetime
of illness and the constraints of patriarchal tradition.1240
Teresa returns to this “confiscated” soul-body and writes through it in a reclamation.1241
Pastor has demonstrated that Teresa’s rhetoric “effectively contains her body,” her body functioning
as the site of both the suffering and experience detailed in her correspondence.1242 Yet as the cerca of
her castle, this language of and through the body extends to Teresa’s mystical writings, the texts
which si(gh)te the body as the locus of her mystical experience, a corporeal landscape punctuated by
psychosomatic spiritual suffering. Furthermore, these texts are written as woman was “perceived to
speak,” a Voice crafted through the guise of the female body itself.1243
Although it is His Spirit from which her speech emanates, such speech is doubly tied to her
female soul-body. Speaking from His Spirit, she recalls her transformation in soul and body through
the remains of her own soul-body’s outer faculties (memory/understanding). By writing as or from
Him through the pattern of her own soul, playing with orality, syntax and spelling, Teresa arguably
effects that which Cixous claims as an “impregnable language that will wreck partitions, classes,
rhetorics, regulations and codes;”1244 she speaks as La Madre, as woman but whose words are Divine
in origin, inspiration and authority, evading the constraints on woman’s speech.
For Cixous the invention of this “impregnable language” is an act of woman who has always
been defined within the constraints of male discourse as opposite, and an action in which woman
must take language and “make it hers, containing it, taking it in her own mouth, biting that tongue
with her very own teeth to invent for herself a language to get inside of.”1245 Is this not what Teresa

1244 Hélène Cixous, “the Laugh of the Medusa,” 886.
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does to her Beloved Word, as she shows us in her Song? She takes the (w/W)ord into her mouth,
kisses and chews upon Him in a consumption-consummation that (a)ffects her transformation in(to)
Him.1246 Having consumed Him and been consumed herself in spirit, she comes to speak from, as,
and in Him, and the taste of the Songs bubbles up like Bernard’s belching bride. 1247 Her Voice pours
fourth from the mouth of her soul, regurgitating with the pen just as she makes herself vomit with the
feather.1248
For Kristeva this speech from or as Him marks a “spiral of narcissism” with Teresa at the
centre, the very core of His word and works on earth: “in order to spread out this feast for everybody
… you make yourself a writer in your castle-laboratory… bringing reform to the Carmelite
Order.”1249 Teresa’s transformation and its subsequent manifestation in writing as La Madre of the
new Order not only (re)makes her in His image, but makes her the vessel, the sign of His will on
earth.
Yet Teresa’s proclamations of her own masculinity, and her demands on her daughters not to
behave as women, speak more to what Cixous defines as an “antinarcissism,” that self-hatred
instilled in women by men which constructs a “narcissism which loves itself only to be loved for
what women haven’t got!”1250 Teresa laments her own femininity, the feeble nature of this little
worm (gusnillo) upon whom such Divine blessings are bestowed, and simultaneously boasts of her
own unwomanliness. Thus, such a “spiral of narcissism” emerges from a feminine anti-narcissism in
1246 “Each becomes the other in consumption, the nothing of the other in consummation.” Luce Irigaray, “La
Mystérique,” 196.
1247 Phillip Liston-Kraft, “Bernard’s Belching Bride: The Affectus that Words cannot express,” Medieval Mystical
Theology 26, no. 1 (2017), 54-72, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1080/20465726.2017.1321201.

1248 “En especial tuve veinte años vómitos por las mañanas, que hasta más de mediodía me acaecía no poder
desayunarme; algunas veces más tarde. Después acá, que frecuento más a menudo las comuniones, es a la noche
antes que me acueste, con mucha más pena, que tengo de procurarle con plumas u otras cosas; porque, si lo dejo,
es mucho el mal que siento, y casi nunca estoy, a mi parecer, sin muchos dolores.” Teresa de Jesús, “Libro de la
Vida,” 56.
1249 Julia Kristeva, Teresa My Love, 258-9.
308
which, in order to speak as woman, she must denounce her own femininity become La Madre, “the
most virile of monks.”1251
Teresa simultaneously deplores and employs femininity, and yet is seen to transcend it. Not
only is her mystical marriage an instance of spiritual transcendence, but it (a)ffects a final
transformation in writing into a Voice transcendent of sex: on the page “this woman ceased to be a
woman, restoring herself to the virile state to her greater glory than if she had been a man from the
beginning, for she [has] rectified nature’s error with her virtue, transforming herself through virtue
into the bone [i.e., Adam’s rib] from which she sprang.”1252 She writes as La Madre but so apparently
surpassed are the perceived limitations of her female condition that her writing, although the product
of the female body, must be beyond the realm of sex. Not only is she able to speak on prayer and
scripture like a man, but she becomes the most virile of them all, something more glorious than if she
were born to the male body. One could even envision this transcendence of femininity as a
performative sign of her transformation in(to) the Image of Christ.
This is not any ideal of woman’s writing as Cixous promotes, but a transcendence beyond
that sexual frontier.1253 For Cixous, écriture féminine is the Voice of the mother that echoes forth
from the very depths of the female psyche.1254 Woman writes a Voice whose source is the pre-
Oedipal space of maternal “milk and honey;”1255 and it is the arguably fluidly gendered body of
Christ who produces such sweet emanations for Teresa. 1256 As we have witnessed, Teresa’s sensory
regression is not any search for her mother, but a desire for union with the generative (m)Other, some

1252 Fray Francisco de Jesús, cited in Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 18.
1253 Toril Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics, 118. Here Moi references an interview with Cixous in which she addresses
her ‘idealist’ view of writing, opposed to Derrida’s analysis of writing in Of Grammatology. See: Verena Andermatt
Conley, Hélène Cixous: Writing the Feminine (London: University of Nebraska Press, 1984), 150-1.
1254 Toril Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics, 112.
1255 Toril Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics, 112-3.
1256 For the fluidity of Christ’s gender, see Caroline Walker Bynum, Jesus as Mother.
309
parallel embryonic absorption from whom all was created. Yet Teresa’s writing similarly springs
forth from the depths of her psyche, from a nourishing state of regressed union. However, that
regression also serves to transform Teresa in(to) her (m)Other, into the La Madre or (m)other in the
generative sense; she “writes in white ink” not as a mother, but the (m)other (La Madre).1257 As
Cixous argues, she is “entirely her voice” insofar as this is the Voice of the Divine through her soul,
with whom the very heart of her being is irrevocably entwined. 1258 She is transformed in(to) the
(m)Other and births her self on the page just as Marguerite’s Christ birthed the world on the Cross,
the (pro)creative climax of a gestation of suffering and death to the world.1259 With a Voice that is
feminine yet a spirit that is seemingly masculine, Teresa is almost neuter, neutralised. She comes to
construct an écriture féminine that imitates both the Divine and how women were “perceived to
speak” which serves to break her free of the constraints that bound her; 1260 she comes to speak
through her self in Him that is something other to the sexual economy, just as He should be.
Experience in, of and through language

Teresa writes as a result of her transformation; yet it is only on the page, in her Voice from and in
Him, that such transformation is truly embodied, completed. Thus, in a sense, does this
transformation only really exist in writing, only within the realm of the text: as Kristeva asks, “les
ravissements existent-ils ailleurs que dans ces récits?”1261 Teresa’s metamorphosis begins as she
moves over the textual threshold and comes to fruition in her own texts, in the construction of a new
threshold from which she speaks from Him. It is the linguistic umbilicoil that ties these two
thresholds on the page, a spiralling landscape between the text(s). Through reading, union, and
writing Teresa carves out a space in language for her to transform in(to) Him.

1258 Toril Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics, 112.
1260 Alison Weber, The Rhetoric of Femininity, 11; Ana Antonopoulis, “Writing the Mystic Body,” 198.
1261 “Do such raptures exist outside of her texts?” Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Therese d’Avila,” 45.
310
It is fundamentally an experience in, of, and through language; as Cristina Mazzoni
highlights, this is unsurprising given the Christian foundation of God as the Word.1262 Though she
writes retrospectively of her mystical experience, Teresa’s transformed being is still tied to the
Divine and to language, and her words are not some decorative mantel draped over the experience
like fine Dutch linen.1263 This language is the very landscape, the fabric of the experience itself.
Whilst this chapter has argued that the Voice from Him is cast in the mould of memory and
understanding, this does not mean that her writing functions as a mere interpretation of any
“ineffable” experience.1264 Her experience occurs within the realms of language, it never really
leaves the text but is shaped by that primary “threshold,” and then comes to shape that final
“threshold” which she constructs with the pen.1265
Thus, I would argue, these experiences are not of any ineffably inexpressible state beyond
language. As I have previously asked, if her unitive embraces are immersions in the Logos Himself,
how can she ever be beyond language? Her calls to a lack in language do not infer a transcendence of
it, but rather a fault in her own capacity; as Mazzoni argues, “God may indeed be language, but this
divine language does not fit comfortably within the confines of a human linguistic instance.”1266
Teresa reaches a state in ecstasy where she is transformed in language, and language is transformed
for her, where its natural form and function are surpassed, where she is undone in the Word.
In their ultimate embraces the relational void between subject and Object dissolves, this
amalgamation of self and Other (a)ffects an instance in which the “ontological relation between
1262 Cristina Mazzoni, “Mystical and Literary Texts: Meeting the Other, and Each Other, at the Borders of
Language,” Annali d’Italianistica 25, (2007) 108, https://www.jstor.org/stable/24016158.
1263 “Porque su resplandor es como una luz infusa y de un sol cubierto de una cosa tan delgada, como un diamante
si su pudiera labrar; como una holanda parece la vestidura.” Teresa de Jesús, “Las Moradas,” 556-7.
1266 Cristina Mazzoni, “Mystical and Literary Texts,” 108.
311
words and things has come undone;”1267 the prayerful fusion of subject and Object signifies a
dissolution of the bonds between sign and signified, between word and thing. 1268 This is no
surpassing of language, but a transcendence of self within it, a unitive immersion in the Word who
lies at the very Truth of the language on the page; “sobre todo, Teresa penetra hondamente el sentido
de la Escritura.”1269 It seems more Teresian to envision such ecstatic climaxes as states deep within
language, beyond her conception and comprehension of its word-image structure. In parallel to her
in-turning within her self in recollection, the culmination of this recollective process functions as a
movement into and through the image-generative structure of language itself.
Her soul-castle is constructed from word-images, from layers of signs and referents that find
no “one-to-one correspondence.”1270 The camino of recogimiento she maps through its architecture
speaks to an intur(n)ing within herself that is also a penetration in and of language. By moving over
the threshold of the page, by entering the castle she moves through the palatial structure of signs and
signifieds of the Passion narrative along a path that climaxes in an immersion in the sea of bonds
between words and things, “touched-bathed-fed” in the architecture of mystical meaning.1271 This is
not a regression to any pre-Oedipal state, she has not been here before, but an in-furling of her self
into the claustro-cripta of the Other. This action embodies Cixous’s command to “get inside of”
language. 1272 In order to penetrate her self she takes Him by the mouth and dissolves her self in(to)
Him, metamorphosing a transformation that is manifested in her Voice as Him. This embryonic
immersion within the fabric of words and images lays the foundation for a second facet of her
mystical transformation, that re-birth in(to) writing as La Madre, as (m)other.
1267 Michel de Certeau, “Mystic Speech,’ 91.

1268 Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Therese d’Avila,’ 48.
1269 “Above all, Teresa deeply penetrates the meaning of Scripture.” Elisa Estévez López, “Santa Teresa nos cuenta
cómo lee la Biblia,” 259.

312
Summary
This chapter has sought to chart the function of Teresa’s writing and its significance within her
practice and transformation. Whilst she is inherently reliant upon text to perform her recollective
self-intur(n)ing, her own texts only begin to emerge once she approaches the final realms of her soul-
castle. Her writing originates from her mystical encounters, her experience of transformation in(to)
the Divine comes to constitute the reason she speaks, the reason why, as woman, Teresa is
commanded, permitted, and capable of writing in her own eyes.
This written act is tied to their spirit, both in terms of her spiritual experience and the very
spark that drives the soul to speak. Yet given that she is always already writing from a state of union
in Him, it is not simply she who speaks. All her texts are penned in a state either of union with His
will or spirit, and thus the soul that writes is always “governed by the Other;” 1273 it is He who comes
to speak of Himself through her. By speaking of her transformation at a distance, through an almost
apophatic self-abnegation, Teresa manifests her transformation in(to) Him; in writing she
demonstrates she is no longer that same self who came before.
This newly transformed self not only speaks from His spirit but founds herself on the page in
His image. As a further iteration of imitatio Teresa’s writing constructs an image for her new self that
implies and underscores her state of transformation in(to) the Beloved, casting her experience in the
mould of His Passion. Through this textual imitation of the Divine life, His self as Book and Author,
Teresa constructs an appropriate Voice for herself through which she speaks and teaches as a woman,
as La Madre.
Through her Voice as La Madre, writing pours forth from the intimate depths of her soul and
signifies her transformation into a (m)other. This Voice is feminine by virtue of its corporeality but is
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fuelled by a seemingly male Other, and through this fusion Teresa’s writing almost (a)ffects a
neutralisation. Here she transcends the constraints of her sex, sub-textually reinforcing her state of
speaking in, as, and from Him, as something other to the sexual economy.
In the context of her spiralling umbilicoil, Teresa’s writing functions as a crystallisation of
her transformation on the page, signifying how such mystical experience only really occurs within
the realm of text and language. Her metamorphosis is performed in and through language, seeking
experience of the Word, and thus there can be no ascension to a state beyond language. Rather her
self-in-furling (a)ffects a penetration of language, a move into the structure of signs and signifieds
that form the architecture of the castle. This recollective in-furling climaxes in a quasi-regressive
state, not pre-Oedipal or pre-linguistic, but rather a parallel state of immersion in the sea of bonds
between signs and referents, “touched-bathed-fed” in the very fabric of language.1274 Language is not
surpassed but gotten “inside of,” embodied in that transformation made manifest on her page. 1275

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Conclusion: Reflections (and/on) Recollections
This research has sought to approach Teresa in an emulative paralleling of her mystical practice,
founded upon its function as a process of textual interpretation. To attend to the embodied visuality
and performativity of her practice, this emulative reading is drawn through the framework of fine art
practice, prioritising questions of gaze, vision, and image. The result is a suggestive map of my
exploration of her soul’s form and function, a tentative tracing of the paths through her mystical
landscape. This map approaches her texts not as flat objects, but as expansive three-dimensional
constructions, offering a fuller understanding of, and appreciation for, her own approach to text. As a
mode of detangling her patterns, here mapping affords a sensitivity to Teresa’s construction in/of
text, both as an author and as a soul transformed in language. Furthermore, the creativity of artistic
practice directly resonates with Teresa’s own creativity as a mystical author and offers an improved
way of illuminating the interwoven intricacies of her thought without imposing inappropriate
structures or systems. These (con)textual and practical aspects allow for a position of greater
proximity with her texts than those of traditional desk-based approaches, revealing a pattern of word
and image encrypted within her corpus.
Re-collecting the ‘map’
Our map has followed Teresa along her mystical progress in language, tracing her movement over
the textual “threshold,” accompanying her as she si(gh)tes, encounters, and enters the corporeally
encrypted soul;1276 we have explored the awakening and transformation of her faculties and senses in
their re-orientation inwards, witnessed her immersion in the Word only to see her resurface and
reconstruct her self-as-Him in the folds of her own mystical text. The imitative proximity to her self-
progression suggests a new vision of Teresa in transformation and has offered several correctives to
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current understandings of her use of imagery and the significance of such word-images, particularly
regarding the corporeality and function of her soul. Though Teresa is often considered in light of her
mystical fathers, this map reveals clear reflections of her European mystical mothers to whom she is
often envisioned at a distance.1277
The first fold of our map unfurled her transformation along the coiled path of language’s
image generative structure. We saw how her language of seeing simultaneously performs a seeing
of/from language, a progression from the word-images of Scripture, through to imaginative visions of
Christ and ultimately a ‘sight’ of the Word. This linguistic progression also delineates the pattern of
her transformation from an image of the Word, transformed through (w/W)ord and Image into a sign
for the Beloved Himself. Here recollection emerges as a transformative practice of textual
interpretation in word and image, revealing the reciprocal connection between Teresa’s relationship
to text and the modes of her transformation.
The central plains of the map chart a new vision of Teresa’s soul and its relationship to her
body, offering a si(gh)te of its form encrypted deep within her interior. Through deeper and more
expansive exploration of her imagery, the cellularity of the soul’s moradic architecture reveals itself
as a vehicle for navigating Teresa’s separation from the Beloved that calls to the body yet rejects any
anatomical site-specificity. The initial movements of recollection infer a si(gh)ting of this vehicle, an
identification of the interior reflection which belies her nature as an image of the Divine. This vital
corporeality of her mysticism is often overlooked and infers an allegiance to the female mysticism(s)
of her medieval mothers whose corporeality is more widely recognised.
Through this attention to word and image, Teresa’s faculties emerge not as divided between
interior and exterior, but as fundamental in the reorientation of herself from exterior to interior in
1277
In particular, Hadewijch of Antwerp, Beatrice of Nazareth, Angela of Foligno, Marguerite Porete and
Marguerite D’Oingt.
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recogimiento: her understanding embodies the actions of discursion and imagination to give form to
the word-images of meditation; the memory both stores and represents these forms of that which is
impressed upon its waxen surface; the reflective nature of her will, that precious jewel, powers the
soul and yet is progressively weakened, conformed to that of the Beloved until it is exchanged for
His. Throughout the castle, these faculties are increasingly transformed and surpassed, her
entendimento exhausted, la voluntad lost to Him. Within its corporeal encryption, it is the spark of
the spirit which fundamentally fuels the soul, that innermost Divine spark whose light/heat refracts
throughout its form and who undergoes the most radical transformation of all. Released from these
encircling faculties, it ascends into the embrace of the Beloved, utterly undone within the espíritu
increado itself.
Teresa’s movement through her self infers both a shedding, a progressive transformation
in(to) His image which releases her spirit into the arms of the Divine and an opposing regression, a
withdrawal through the corporeal towards the spiritual. Her recollective movement is a (a)rousing
reorientation of her senses towards the interior. Rather than any doctrine of distinct spiritual
sensation, the corporeality of her soul suggests a reciprocal sense capacity shared between body and
soul. Teresa ingresses through a sensory continuum which ramifies throughout the body-soul-castle,
facilitating her turn from the exterior towards the interior. This alternative vision of her senso-reality
is drawn from a deeper understanding of her relationship to text and image and further illuminates an
inherent connection to her medieval mothers (especially Hadewijch) as opposed to the more
traditional (male) sources to which she is often compared. Such senso-reality offers itself to the
reader through both sight and taste. Though she comes to see from language, she consumes the words
on the page through her eyes and mouth and comes to see and taste the sweetness of His presence
within. In her most central realms, sight and taste co-permeate as her understanding of the Divine
from the text. Yet both senses fundamentally infer a touch. That ultimate union in the Word allows
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her to embody His gaze and to drink in the Truth, but both actions speak to an immersive touch
beyond touching. Though she is adamant that such sensual imagery is only ever a comparison for His
presence, the entanglement of her experience with language suggests that such comparaciones
function far closer than mere metaphor. Here the map reveals an intense orality to her mystical
practice, an oral internalisation of the language of Scripture which informs the senso-reality of her
Divine interactions.
The final fold of our map follows Teresa as she returns to her self in writing. Despite her
distinctive style, this imitative map proposes that the voice with which she speaks in text is always
already not hers alone, but a co-penetration of Him in her and her in Him. Yet this does not subtract
from the intentionality of her texts; Teresa does not write in ecstasy but writes as a newly
transformed self-in-Him of the transformation of her past self. Writing of/from Him, Teresa performs
a further imitation of her Beloved, reconstructing the Passion of her experience in His mould. This
textual imitation serves to construct an appropriate and appropriating voice which allows her to take
up the pen, to speak as a female; and in another instance of imitation her writings are inscribed upon
the souls of her readers. In this union of pen and spirit, Teresa is transformed into the (m)Other,
speaking with a voice that is both feminine through her embodied experience and yet fuelled by the
Logos Himself. In a sense she is neutered by the climax of union which allows her to speak as
(beyond) her sex. This close reading of her sexual intention uncovers an unforeseen Divine
intentionality in her writing through which Teresa is not disempowered or overcome by the Logos,
nor merely claiming His authority. Rather here “writing is God,” the source of her writing in the
Word Himself is the fundamental reality of her transformation in her eyes.1278
1278 Hélène Cixous, Coming to Writing and Other Essays, 11.
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Fully unfolded, this map traces the function of Teresa’s mystical transformation in, through
and of language, from her movement over the “threshold” of the page, through to her return in the
word-images of her own writing.1279 Though she may lament some lack within the descriptive power
of language, this map proposes that, rather than any frustrated state of Jamesian ineffability, Teresa’s
ultimate union suggests a deep immersion in the word-image structure of language itself. This union
does not offer any transcendence of language, but rather a transcendence of her self in the Word, the
origin of language itself. By plumbing the visual and linguistic depths of her (con)texts, this map
envisions Teresa’s mysticism as a journey in, though, and of language, not any unspeakable
transcendence of it and thus further calls into question James’s ineffable classification. 1280
Paths of Recollection
Teresa’s journey towards her Beloved in language is simultaneously an ascent and descent, a climb
towards He who sustains and enriches, yet who resides within the deepest depths of her interior.
Whilst this is a process of undeniable self-perfection and improvement, there is a tangible tension
between that which is gained in union, and those intimate parts of her self she much lose to ascend to
such Divine self-possession.1281
To navigate this tension, I offer two visions of recollection:
(1) Three-dimensional Reading
Recollection constitutes a practice of three-dimensional reading, an unfolding of the landscape of the
soul beyond the textual “threshold.”1282 This landscape is formed through the image-generative
structure of language which constitutes that void between human and Divine. Teresa enters into the
word-images of the Passion to move through this structure of the soul, and then (re)constructs her

1280 Willliam James, The Varieties of Religious Experience, 380.
1281 Robert Kralj, “The Distinction Between “Soul” and “Spirit” according to Teresa of Avila,” 92-3.
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self in text. There is a reciprocity to this linguistic pattern: words speak to/of images, images to the
Word, and Teresa, herself a word for the Divine, speaks to us in images.
Through active recollective practice she steps into this referential space behind the text,
traversing the ever-deepening realms of her self. In the movement from active to passive, her
pilgrimage climaxes in a spiritual immersion in the Word, a union which overcomes that void
between (w/W)ord and image. This is not any unitive experience beyond language or body, but the
(a/de)scent deep within them. Teresa’s immersion in the space between word and image reflects her
arrival at the most cryptic depths of her self. The referential pattern of language, the entangled bonds
between words and things, echoes the hive-like structure of the soul: two non-linear, reciprocal
networks expanding into the voided landscape between human and Divine. This vision of the
structure of her soul in language would arguably not be possible from a traditional (two-dimensional)
approach which overlooks the constructional, functional, and creative nature of her texts.
This three-dimensionality of recollection is closely tangled with the quasi-corporeal nature of
her soul. The architecture of her castle inherently calls not only to a sense of expansion, but to the
movement of/through her body. This soul-castle is doubly reflective: extending between the human
and Divine it offers Teresa a glimpse of the Christ-mirror in whose image she can (a/de)scend; yet it
inherently reflects her own corporeal exterior through which she initially engages with the (w/W)ord.
Her immersion in language begins with a consumption of the (w/W)ord that serves as a co-
penetration.1283 She takes Him by the mouth and He comes to be embodied in her. This
internalisation of the (w/W)ord constructs her interiority, an unfolding of language’s referential
structure in the form of the soul.1284 Her progressive (a/de)scent into the profundities of this linguistic

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pattern affords her a glimpse of that mystical meaning which lies within this referential structure
behind the words on the page.
(2) A deconstruction of self
Simultaneously, recollection can be envisioned a progressive stripping or splitting of the soul spoken
in a tangle of word and image. Teresa’s (a/de)scent towards union is made possible by the nature of
her soul as an image of the Divine; both soul and language tie her to the Beloved. Yet this union
requires a radical re-formation of her soul, an undoing of that which makes her herself.
Teresa’s penetration of language marks a concurrent penetration of her self which whittles
away at the soul, “cut[s] [her] to the quick” in order to reconstruct her in the image of perfection.1285
As she turns her gaze towards the interior, the si(gh)te of the castle carves a split through Christ’s
reflection; here she enters through the doors of the Passion and begins to move through her self,
following her Christ-guide to the Father. This process both tires the discursive faculties in this
meditative (en)visualisation and increasingly conforms her will to His. This recollective movement
draws Teresa through the soul-castle, and her soul-image is increasingly remoulded to look more like
Christ than her self. This Christ-like reformation involves further splits/cuts as she receives mystical
glimpses of this embodied model of perfection; these Christ-sights whittle away the remaining parts
of her soul-self until she exchanges His will for her own and truly mirrors His likeness.
In the centre of the castle, that final part of her self is snatched from the soul and undone in
His Spirit; this co-penetration (a)ffects a fundamental self-transformation at the very core of her
being as it returns to power the external activities of the soul. Such good works fulfil their will in
writing and reformation, and in her newly transformed self Teresa speaks of a third person. This self-
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estrangement in writing serves to found her very existence as/in Him; as He writes through her, so
she/they comes to write in/on others.
This vision of Teresa “cut to the quick” is perhaps more apophatic, more self-destructive than
often presented, an almost Porete-esque shedding of the corporeal embodiment of the soul:1286 as she
moves through the soul-castle she estranges her self from the exterior realms until her most spiritual
point is released from its incar(cer/n)ation. In doing so the guiding lights of her self (will and spirit)
are lost in Divine embrace. Yet the Divine to whom she loses her self is not other to the castle itself,
but the innermost point of its construction. Once again recollection is never any ek-static flight of the
soul beyond the body, but rather a snatching that ruptures the soul from within. From the other end of
the linguistic cord, the Divine draws Teresa towards His self and consumes her (in) spirit, just as she
swallows the Word through the words on the page. What emerges is a highly corporeal or
constructional self-deconstruction, an apophasis of her self as image constructed in word-images.
The edge of the map
This map, however, is constricted by scope and form; it has only been possible to explore her textual
landscape through just four of her texts. Whilst those examined arguably have the greatest focus
upon the soul, it is impossible to draw a comprehensive map from such limited source material. What
unfolds here is rather a sense of the facets of her interior landscape which she lays before her
daughters to call them to follow. Furthermore, the order in which these texts have been approached
has distinctly coloured this reading. Following reverse chronological order (from Las Moradas
through to her Vida), it is hard to envision her mystical landscape beyond the structure of the castle.
Whilst it is often considered the most “mature” vision of her mysticism, the appeal of its architecture
is hard to deny and may obscure subtle differentiations that emerge in her other texts.1287

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I have sought to respect Teresa’s lack of systematisation, her apparent incoherence or self-
contradictions and the often-incongruous “kaleidoscope” of imagery;1288 this is a vital part of (her)
language and any attempt to fully straighten out of the tangles of her thought would be artificial, un-
Teresian. Just as the word-images of language (a)ffect the transformation of her soul and yet sit at a
slight disconnect from that experience, so must this imitative approach respect such a distance. 1289
Yet, by its very nature, this perspective often suggests more than it reveals, sign-posting branching
paths to follow. It has raised questions of the relationship between Teresa’s (female) body and
language, the entanglement of reading, writing and her sexual transcendence. If her writing can be
considered a practice of écriture féminine, an action that moves beyond the phallogocentricity of
language, what are the implications for her practice of reading which underpins those texts?
The issue of distance reiterates a fundamental flaw in my approach. Whist I might aspire to
follow in her footsteps, this is not a true imitation and so still maintains a distance (respectful as it
may be) from the Divine reality of her mysticism. For a ‘true’ imitation, I would need to literally “get
into her habit,” to share in her belief and to walk the prayer-full path to perfection. Still there would
be no guarantee: I may never be divinely drawn into that same mystical progression. Furthermore,
even if I were chosen to (a/de)scend in her model, I would not necessarily see what she saw; my
experience would likely be coloured by my own experience, my own historical and (con)textual
constraints. Such a faith-full approach would also inspire interesting ethical questions regarding the
self as subject, ascetic practice, and theological belief/bias in research.
This parallel approach raises questions about the significance of the proximity/distance
between the researcher and researched, the mystic and the artist. To expand the map would involve
exploring my relationship with her, rather than hers with the Divine, shifting the focus of this

323
imitative gaze upon my own practice and reflections of her.1290 Whilst a reconsideration of my own
practice from the perspective of Teresa’s mysticism offers another fruitful path to follow, it may also
be more appropriate to ask how she has come to effect my own (practice of dis/un)belief.
Final word
In conclusion, in its quest to approach Teresa in an emulative parallel to her own mystical practice,
this thesis has developed a closer understanding of the function of language, of text, word, and image
within her mysticism. This has not only revealed this practice as fundamentally one of embodied and
three-dimensional textual interpretation, but also the inherently linguistic function of her soul. In
doing so, this map has also uncovered glimpses of Teresa inheritance of the female mysticism(s) of
her European mothers from whom she is often distanced.
Recollection has been re-imagined as a process of three-dimensional reading performed
through body and soul; this practical experience never leaves the realms of language but serves to
transform Teresa and her perspective to it. This research has demonstrated how Fine Art practice can
function as an approach to research which attends to the inherent visuality, performativity, and three-
dimensionality of mystical texts and their intended function. Here creative practice has afforded a
sensitivity to and reciprocity with Teresa’s texts, a close attention to the expanded significance of her
use of image; this position offers a new understanding of her mysticism that gets under the skin of
her text. Yet this approach is not limited to Teresa but offers an appropriable foundation for the
exploration of other mystical or pre-modern texts with an attention to the practical, visual, and
image-based context from which they are constructed. Moreover, the intricacies of Teresa’s thought
uncovered through this method suggests a need to revisit such material in this way to closer
1290
This kind of introspective approach is perhaps more common in Fine Art doctoral research, asking how one’s
own practice functions in light of a certain perspective/context.
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understand their function, significance, and the practical relationship between text, reader, and author
upon which they are founded.
325
Glossary
This map is drawn in a language of imitation, an emulative voice that toys with the lack of “one-to-
one correspondence between literal signifier and allegorical signified” in Teresa’s text, her alterations
of words, and her use diminutives or phonetic spellings to express both her intentions and her
frustration at encapsulating her experience in language. 1291
From my own practical perspective, this emulation is guided by in part by one aspect of
Derrida’s différance: the notion that a word or sign is never able to fully conjure the image or
meaning to which they refer, and as such their signification is dependent upon interweaving with
other words/signs and their provoked referents. 1292 This linguistic imitation also draws from écriture
féminine which “revels in linguistic punning and slippages” in order to theorise a voice beyond
phallogocentric constraints.1293 For example, Irigaray plays upon the pronoun ‘elle’ to speak to both
the soul and her self; Kristeva’s “imaginaire sensible” speaks to more than the English equivalent of
image, imagery or imagination, conjuring a sense of sensorial perception beyond image.1294
Under this guise I take liberties with certain words throughout this research, playing with
their structure, compiling them together and altering spellings in order to evoke the sense of other
terms.1295 This ‘word play’ is performed in the hope of either refining or expanding a word’s
signification, narrowing the possible meanings through inferring more specific referents, or
compiling words to create a something which infers the referential networks of both the original
signs; in doing so I hope to provoke the reader to consider what and how words come to mean.

1292 See Jacques Derrida, Speech and Phenomena, 1973.
1293 Anna Watz, “Surrealism and écriture féminine,” 373.
1294 Luce Irigaray, “La Mystérique,” 192; Julia Kristeva, “La Passion selon Thérèse d’Avila,” 46.
1295 See Jacques Derrida, Speech and Phenomena, 1973.
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(a)ffective: often used in place of ‘effective’ to imply both terms.
co-relation: the reciprocity of Teresa’s relationship to the Divine, inferring the two ends to the
umbilicoil that binds them.
corps: a play on the French for body (corps) and the notion of the core, speaking to the vital
corporeality of Teresa’s mysticism.
(con/de)fined: simultaneously confining and defining. Used primarily to speak to the relationship
between Teresa’s soul and the body within which it is encrypted.
incar(cer/n)ation: speaks to the body as the fleshy enclosure of the soul, both in terms of the
pejorative view of the body as an earthly prison and the image of the body as the protective
outer realm of the soul.
(in)form: plays upon the notion of material formation and the giving of information to speak to how
the memory is both shaped by images impressed into its waxy surface and also presents this
visual material back to the faculties.
in-furl (also in-turn): refers to the structure of Teresa’s soul castle as a series of moradas that emerge
organically as one moves through them, not in a linear fashion but seemingly unfurling on all
sides.
intur(n)ing: speaks to Teresa’s process of in-turning (see above) in recogimiento as a form of
interring the self within the body, drawing upon Irigaray’s “cryptic” soul.1296
in-volution: the motion of recogimiento as a circular spiralling movement inwards within oneself
through soul and body.
327
(a/i)llusion: speaks to the allusions Teresa makes within her writing that in turn create illusions of
meaning that function at a slight disjunction from that which she is trying to say.
(wo)man: implies both man and woman, and used to feminise the use of ‘man’ as the point of
reference for humanity. (hu)man is also used similarly.
moradic: relating to the moradas of the soul-castle.
(m)Other (also an(O)ther): implies the Divine as Other and as maternal.
(w/W)ord: both word (language) and Word (Logos).
origen-al (also orig(e)n): a play on the Castilian ‘origen’ (origin), the idea that the original definition
of ‘the mystical’ can be found in the works of Origen of Alexandria.
(p/P)assion (also Passionate): refers simultaneously to Christ’s Passion and the passionate love
mystics hold for their Beloved.
pray-er: refers to the person performing the prayer.
prayer-full: used to imply both prayerful and Teresian states and/or moradic realms that are full of
prayer.
(corpo)reality: the corporeal reality of Teresa’s mysticism which arises through her location of the
soul as vitally entwined within her body.
(a)rousing: speaks to the process of recogimiento as a rousing of the sensory capacity within the soul,
whilst also inferring the sensual and erotic undertones to the unitive process.
(a/de)scent: refers to the paradoxical dynamism of Teresa’s recogimiento as simultaneously an
upwards path towards spiritual perfection and the Divine, and an inward and downward
movement within the soul-body.
328
scen(t)sation: an element of the experience of the Prayer of Quiet which Teresa conveys through the
notion of a scent that one feels almost like a touch permeating throughout the entirety of
one’s being.
senso-reality: the role of Teresa’s interior senses as more than an analogous comparison to those of
the body for her means of perceiving the Divine. Refers to Teresa’s singular sensory
continuum between soul and body which comes to constitute and construct the sensory
reality of her interior experience.
si(gh)te: the site of the soul which Teresa identifies through the visual, both in terms of recogimiento
as envisioning the castle and more broadly with respect to the inherently visual nature of her
writing.
si(gh)te-specific: a play on sight, site (see above) and the artistic notion of a work being conceptually
designed and constructed for/in/at a particular place.
si(gh)te-explicit: as above but infers an additional sense of eroticism.
Soul-full: refers to soulfulness (an intense emotional spirituality) and to something being full of soul.
(con)textual: used to refer to the fundamental textuality and contextuality of mysticism as a
phenomena.
Umbilicoil: the spiralling cord of language that connects Teresa to the Divine through the scriptural
and devotional texts upon which her mystical praxis of prayer was founded.
(en)visualisation: speaks to a process of interior envisioning within the soul in recollective
meditation.
with(in): primarily used in reference to the Teresa’s relationship with the Divine as both within and
with Him (or vice versa).
329
word-image: the (Wittgensteinian) notion that a word can conjure forth something akin to an image.
This refers to both the textual images Teresa uses within her own writing and the practice of
Passion meditation in which she actively envisions the suffering of Christ from the words of
Scripture.
330
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Appendix
At first glance, the artistic nature of this research appears to be exiled to the very edges of our map.
This appendix contains the only visible glimpse of the visual artwork produced throughout the
practice-based approach. The following pages document the drawings, paintings, and sculptures
which constituted the imitative process of Lectio Divina, a transcript of a performative dialogue with
Teresa discussing our imitative connection, and the collages, drawings, and sculptures of the virtual
pilgrimage process. Also included are photographs of the final exhibition.
Despite both constituting and emerging from the primary methods of engagement with
Teresa’s texts, these artworks are not essential in understanding the thesis. The map functions
without pictorial illustration and the artworks are included here as evidence of the methods used
within the research. The artworks are not illustrations of ideas within the thesis, but rather precede
the drawing of the map itself. As previously indicated, they are like the records of experiments which
form the main actions of the research process, and their results are discussed within the pages of this
map. Through the practice-based approach, the artworks which follow form the processes and
products of exploring Teresa’s writings, of thinking visually through her ideas of the soul and
language. They do no seek to illustrate anything Teresa or I saw during this process but are
themselves the process by which I sought to glimpse how she saw in words and images.
To an extent these artworks are inherently personal in form and function. They not only
document my journey through Teresa’s mystical landscape, but they were the means by which I read
her texts, the visual tools through which I moved towards an understanding of her words and images.
Though they may encapsulate some of that understanding in their appearance, the full extent of this
understanding is conveyed through the words (and word-images) of the thesis. Thus, the artworks
have a very personal function for my understanding of Teresa, but how they are interpreted by others
does not necessarily influence this function. As an artist I do not strive for the viewer to see
something specific in my work, the processes and products of my practice have a particular
investigative function for me and for others they are entirely open to interpretation. It is not that the
viewer’s interpretation is not of value, rather that the value is in the process of interpretation itself.
This research has not sought to see what Teresa saw but rather to glimpse how she came to see;
equally it is not a question of what you see or think in response to the artwork but rather the very fact
that it moves you to see and think at all.
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The emphasis within this map upon visuality and performativity operates in a very similar
vein. The inherent visuality of recollection speaks not to the illustrative pictoriality or content of the
images – be they Teresa’s or my own – but to the very function of the interior process. Here visuality
refers to a movement through words and images, a pattern of introspection which is visual in its function
through sight and image rather than illustration. The following works are not images of any vision
experienced through Teresian imitation; they are the means of visually engaging with Teresa’s texts in a
way that seeks to parallel her meditative visualisation of the Passion.
This Teresian paralleling forms the key reason for their apparent exclusion from the map itself. A
sense of multiplicity and fluidity of meaning is central to the function of Teresa’s mystical texts and the
artworks which lie at the heart of this research are not included within the body of the map in order to
maintain an imitative sense of multiplicity. They are not featured or discussed within the central chapters
not only to avoid illustrative implications but also to prevent any direct ‘colouring’ of the reader’s
interpretation of the artworks themselves. Exiled, they stand alone, maintaining an independence in which
the reader may come to them with their own body of experience and see them for themselves. Similarly,
though they were accompanied by information regarding the imitative processes of the methodology,
during the exhibition the artworks stood alone without individual description or discussion. The viewer
does not need me to tell them what they should see, only to outline how the work led me to glimpse how
Teresa saw.
Equally, the artworks are placed at the edge of this map in order not to colour the reader’s
interpretations of my own word-images which form the pattern of its folds. This thesis is as much an
artistic output as the images which preceded it, and which now follow in these final pages. It may not be
filled with the pictorial images which led to its creation, but this map is constructed from a visual
language which seeks to imitate the flow of word-images from which Teresa wove the multiplicity of her
own texts. Within the folds of the map this textual imitation takes priority, reflecting both the inherent
textuality of Teresa’s mysticism and the creative and quasi-sculptural nature of her writing. Just as it
would be inappropriate and un-Teresian to propose a singular concrete system of Teresa’s thought,
positioning the artworks within the body of the map would appear too prescriptive, conditioning a far
more singular interpretation. The aim of this map is not to illustrate that which either Teresa or I saw
within the unfolding of her soul, but to trace how the soul unfolds through that pattern of word and image.
The artwork may have a direct reciprocity with the words and images of this text, but for this primary
textual imitation to function the reader need not fully see what I saw.
354
Figure 6: Harri Hudspith, ¿Teresa, me oyes?, 2018, photograph.
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Part 1: Lectio Divina
Figure 7: Harri Hudspith, Lectio Divina, 2019, sketchbook.
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Figure 8: Harri Hudspith, Lectio Divina, 2019, sketchbook.
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Figure 9: Harri Hudspith, Cellular, 2019, ink on paper.
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Figure 10: Harri Hudspith, Crystalline, 2019, ink on paper.
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Figure 11: Harri Hudspith, Umbilicoil, 2019, ink on paper.
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Figure 12: Harri Hudspith, A Body of Moradas, 2020, ink on paper.
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Figure 13: Harri Hudspith, Imitatio, 2020, graphite on paper.
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Figure 14: Harri Hudspith, Árbol del Alma, 2021, graphite on paper.
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Figure 15: Harri Hudspith, Árbol de la Vida, 2020, graphite on paper.
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Figure 16: Harri Hudspith, Words made Flesh, 2019, oil on canvas.
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Figure 19: Harri Hudspith, Incar(cer/n)ation, 2020, clay and wood.
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Figure 20: Harri Hudspith, Incar(cer/n)ation, 2020, clay and wood.
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Teresa, ¿me oyes?
I haven't dreamt of you since that night, but now I speak to you almost every day; every night.
Perhaps you are so ingrained, engraved in my mind, my consciousness that you no longer live, lurk,
love below the threshold, below our frontier, below the liminal; sub-limbo. You are becoming
engraved in my self as He engraved His self in you, carved Himself in the surface of your self,
scorched Himself into the flesh of your (core)corps.
I do not need to dream of what I am doing to you, because I am free to do it now, I am already
always doing it; to you. Or perhaps better to say you are always already doing it to me - you’re
making yourself a dwelling place in my core, in the marrow of my mind, at the heart of my palm
(palmito). If I am approaching you, moving towards you as you approach Him, I suppose I ought to
think of you inside me; perhaps this (our/us) is not so much a question of my embodying you, your
practice, your text, as it is a question of embodying you to the extent that you come within me;
imitate you through the body of my text, through the body of your text, through your text as body.
How do I see you; how do you see Him? Do we see each other's Other in the same way? Of course
not, but I hope to follow in your footsteps, follow and map the patterns of your textual corpus - the
relic of your linguistic corpse that lies before me.
I want to see you.
I want to see what happened to you, in you. Seeing is important here; seeing you; seeing your self. I
want to trace your form, feel where it happened, feel how it happened, touch the site of your sight
with my eyes, feel the cord between us on my tongue; see your form, the shape of your self running
through my fingers. I want to hold you in my mouth as you embrace Him in yours.
I take you into me, take you within me as you take Him into you; sucking and suckling from the
page. There is a gap of course (claro), not just vertically between my self and yours through which I
370
am to ascend if true transformational imitation is my end; a Teresian Christ. But we mismatch and
disassociate horizontally as well; I am always already two steps behind and on a divergent, diverging
path: I see you through the text, the body of your self, but I am not sure I will ever touch you. I don’t
believe you will touch me as He touches you.
You come inside me through the eye, through my mouth; the body of your text, the text of your body
fills my mouth, I form it with my lips and under my tongue. You move under my skin, into my skin;
should I not be moving into yours, embodying you not vice versa. I may see your corpus with the
eyes of mine, but you move inside me orally, through the shape of your word in my mouth; the shape
of you as the Word. Reading, pronouncing a consumption. Do I consume you through text or do you
consume me? You took Him into you, you ate, chewed, drank and savoured both His Symbolic
bodies; you consumed His manhood in bread, blood and text. But it was you who came into Him.
Taking Him inside you engulfed you within Him; His self that always already lay within you.
This is the only relic of you I can touch, the only part of you open to me at a tangent to His self as
Word being that primal, primary body that was, that is open to you. The page marks the thresholds,
the frontiers that demarcate the gaps between us: Him to you, you to me. They hint, they promise a
touch, a point of contact, a bridging, a coming together, but then they divide and remind; they make
clear the distance I have to go, the space between us I am always already yet to traverse, yet to
transgress. The object of the text as body-relic, it not only allows you to pull your self closer to Him,
consuming Him (as Word) on the page to climb the cord towards a touch, a taste of Him, but it
makes you increasingly conscious (unconscious perhaps in another mode, in another realm) of the
split in you, in you as two. The text as touch paper fans the flame of your burning for Him. Do I burn
with the same desire for you? Who is to say that the itch I feel to see you, your self, to understand
how you are formed, what you experience, this urge to map out what is going on, is any different
from your urge to see Him, to see through Him.
371
Your desire is for Him, to become undone in and through Him, unlaced, engulfed; but it is a sight of
Him, the site in Him that is your undoing. Yet you don’t see in the sense of the word (sight), you see
the sense of the Word, the truth, you sense the Word, in fact, intact; when you see Him, you aren't
seeing Him through the body, through your body, even when you see His body in relation to your
own. You see him inside yourself, through the body of your self, even if you see Him in front of you,
at your side, your Spouse.
You are (almost) a non-visionary. You see Him through your self, body and soul together, but not the
eyes of your body. You take Him inside you with the mouth, through the lips, your throat, and sight
of Him emerges; it is provoked, sparked at the very marrow of your bones, through somewhere
rooted throughout your being; your self-as-being. The site of your sight is not ocular. You take the
Word inside you and begin to see from language, see His life, see Him, see through Him.
This first realm of your sight from language I can run beside, I can walk parallel to you as you
envision His life as a body from His body of the text. You watch Him from within your self, see Him
bleed, see Him suffer, place your self at the foot of His body undone, unmade, prostrate upon the
cross. From the words of His life you model your self in His image, you make an image of Him for
your self, within yourself, an image taken from His words. The first site of your sight is behind the
word, your image of Him behind His word(s).
This I can see. I can join you as you actively envision Him before you. As you conjure Him from text
so I can conjure you from the body of yours. Not you as such, from your body-as-text I can conjure,
consume, I can envision, encircle what you saw; I can catch a glimpse of your sight of Him, the sight
that follows from your word-image view of His life; I can peep into the next realm of your sight of
Him, you and Him, Him in you, you in Him.
372
I don’t think I need to see Him as you saw Him here; it is not Him I am searching for, nor His
experience I strive for a sense of. But I do watch you watching Him.
You envision Him, conjure Him in, through and for your self, and it sets the scene for Him to then
come to you as body. It lays the ground, sets the palate for Him to come into you, to conjure Himself,
present His self-as-man, as flesh of the Word. Your sight of Him is passive, He comes in you or
perhaps better to say He reveals Himself to you, shows you His self within yours; permits you a
glimpse of Him dwelling inside your self. The sight is not unprovoked, unwelcome, in fact you yearn
for it, you ache with longing for Him; but it is something He bestows upon you as you begin to move
outside yourself. You see Him visually, He is given to you, He gives Himself to you visually,
corporeally; not in the sense of your corpus, your corps (core), but through a sense of His. Your sight
of Him is located in His body, you see your Beloved, the man (the myth, the legend), the flesh of the
Word you so desire.
And then you see nothing, no ves nada, non-visión, non-seeing sparked from language. He comes at
your most intimate level, that most cryptic, essential point of you, beyond form, beyond image;
He/you are now so close that you have no need for sight of Him, you are at the site of Him. You may
have consumed Him, sucked and swallowed His flesh from the page but He has engulfed you,
swallowed you, drawn you up into Himself to the point of your undoing; you are so close you are
blind to Him, but not blind through Him. You lose sight of Him, He does not give Himself for you to
see, but you are now so closely woven in Him, compressed like beads along the cord that you see
through Him; He becomes your lens, your sight, there is no longer a need for any image between
you. You are so close, so ecstatic in Him that there is no space, no need for an intermediary to
traverse the gap between you and Him.
Will you ever come for me the way He comes in you? Give your self to me as He gives Himself to
you, as you gave your self to Him? That is not quite what I am looking for in you, what I hope to see
373
from you; I want to see you seeing, see how you see, not what or who; see your sight. Honestly, I am
not even sure you see at all; it seems to me that to see for you is yet another layer of imagery, another
parallel. Your corpus, the body of your text, is constructed through these layers of image: you
replicate the first realm of your sight, your sight of Him from the textual relic of His life as flesh of
the Word, in the text-relic you leave for me. A body of word-images, a source for a seeing of
language that never truly touches what you see of Him; you continuously encircle yourself, your self
in Him, with images yet in text, in this relic, your relic, you claim to always remain at a distance. No
word-image ever even caresses, brushes against your sense of Him in you, you in Him. The image I
conjure from your body, what I envision from your corpus is always already at a distance from that
which you “saw” in, through and from His; our gaps are yet to be closed. Not only because of my
distance from you, but because your word-images rest at a distance from Him, from your sight of and
through Him. What I see in you is only ever a comparison (a comparación), a parallel for what you
see in Him; an image of an image, a sight for a sight, an eye for an eye. All your images, all your
seeing, all your visionarity/visionariness is only a mode of conceiving of your experience of being in
Him. Vision as cognition, a making ‘visible’, tangible, sensible: seeing is only ever a way for you to
make sense of you in Him, for me to make sense in, of and from you, to sense your body.
And you yourself see your self as an image, an image of Him; an image of the Word imitating the
original image of that Word in order to perfect your self as His image, to get closer to the Word. The
Word as Him, as your lover, and the image you strive for your self. The cord that runs between our
gaps, our split-selves flows from word to image and from image to word, from Him to you and you
to me. This is how you reach Him, how you approach Him, flowing from word to image, image to
word compressing the coiled textual cord that passes through the page, through your lips in and out
and into mine. Your lips meet His through the word, your mouths meet and merge in a kiss of text,
374
holding each other’s forms within your separate selves; two conjoined, united, compressed, engulfed
in one through a touch of the word.
[Transcript of a spoken word performance, performed first at ‘Quintessence of Consciousness’
exhibition in March 2020, and then again at my exhibition ‘Getting into Her Habit’ in March 2022.
For a recording of the performance please see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxbGM3D6a3A]
375
Part 2: Virtual Pilgrimage
Figure 21: Harri Hudspith, Ávila, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
376
Figure 22: Harri Hudspith, Medina del Campo, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
377
Figure 23: Harri Hudspith, Valladolid, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
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Figure 24: Harri Hudspith, Toledo, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
379
Figure 25: Harri Hudspith, Salamanca, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
380
Figure 26: Harri Hudspith, Alba de Tormes, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
381
Figure 27: Harri Hudspith, Segovia, 2021, collage with oil and photographs.
382
Figure 28: Harri Hudspith, 3D Collage, 2021, cardboard.
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Figure 35: Harri Hudspith, 3D Drawing, 2022, graphite on paper.
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Figure 41: Harri Hudspith, Recollecting Recollection, 2022, reclaimed wood. Exhibited at Seething Church,
March 2022.
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March 2022.
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March 2022.
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Part 3: Exhibition
Figure 44: Harri Hudspith, Getting into her Habit, 2022, photograph. Exhibition at St James Priory, Bristol,
March-April 2022.
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Figure 45: Harri Hudspith, Getting into her Habit, 2022, photograph. Exhibition at St James Priory, Bristol, March-April 2022.
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Bristol, March-April 2022.
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Mapping Teresa of Avila’s Mystical Landscape

award of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Faculty of Arts.

School of Humanities December 2022

Word count: 85,844

SIGNED: Harri Hudspith DATE: 9 December 2022

List of Figures ................................................................................................................................ 8

and constructed a mystical landscape on the ground as well as on the page.1

within the Catholic Church.2

themselves seek to visually convey a visionary experience.3

This thesis proposes that Teresa’s mysticism is (con/de)fined by a similar pattern of

contours of her wider mystical landscape.

Mysticism and/in Language

notion of an interior, psycho-spiritual, and transcendentally unsayable and unseeable experience of

the supernatural, a vision largely attributable to William James’s ‘foundational’ Varieties of

experiences of a consciousness of Divine presence, of He who is simultaneously the Word (Logos),

Press, 2011), 380, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CBO9781139149822.

than rational “conceptual thought.”8

yet, paradoxically, most often is conveyed in text.

necessarily what it means to Teresa.25

(medieval) mystics upon whom such discourse is founded. 27

22 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 169.

language is a fundamentally fertile tool for transformation and transcendence.33

28 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 284.

Experience, 380, 417.

diverged from the concerns of the mystics themselves.37

definitive of mysticism itself performs an inherent act of de-contextualisation. As we have already

knowledge, experience, and interpretation. Whilst James’s lecture is commonly perceived as

of Willian James, 2 vols (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1935).

context of the text itself.43

of Western Christian Mysticism, 1:xiv.

corporeal and para-mystical manifestations of the phenomena, tears, bleedings, contortions,

of Chicago Press, 2002) 5, 280.

resistance to the gendering of hierarchical distinctions between affective and speculative

those of the modern reader.

51 Amy Hollywood, Sensible Ecstasy, 280.

rites on fertility, reproduction, and the female body.61

57 Amy Hollywood, “Introduction,” 6.

Dictionary, accessed December 6, 2022, https://www.abarim-publications.com/DictionaryG/m/m-u-om.html.

University Press, 2008), 36.

experience cannot be divorced from this textual and practical context.67

“continuous tradition of a distinctly exegetical character,” by a connection to reading, writing, and

(London: Legenda, 2005), 22.

Wittgensteinian Analysis” (PhD diss., University of Durham, 2009), 11, http://etheses.dur.ac.uk/1931/.

understanding of, the Divine.

J. Walsh (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1981), 82-3.

study, experience, and interpretation of Divine Truth.

traditions of the phenomena as a whole.77

78 Grace M. Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 67.

Companion to Christian Mysticism (Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 2012), https://www-cambridge-

and Contemporary Views,” 115-6.

University Press, 2012), 89-90, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.1017/CBO9781139164658.

Beckman (Cambridge: University of Cambridge Press, 2012), 326-7, https://doi-

for the monastic male elite.

under two broad themes.

political and religious reform.

Mooney (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), 7.

of Sanctity (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996), 28, https://doi-org.bris.idm.oclc.org/10.7591/9781501733130;

their use of language and imagery.95

“Woman as Body: Ancient and Contemporary Views.”

Religion (New York: Zone Books, 1992), 235.