Oh, Saint Teresa of Avila,
I know that the Great Way
is uncharted.
And I know, too,
you have walked there,
through that wilderness,
to the other side.
Lean toward me now
and whisper a secret or two
in my ear.

Oh, sweet lover of the Holy One,
you say that my soul
is a spectacular castle,
the most beautiful place in all creation.
You say that the Holy One himself
would not live anywhere else.
That he is, even now,
waiting for me in the innermost chamber.
That all I have to do is go within.
How, sweet saint,
do I begin?

Oh, you gardener of the soul,
help me to cultivate my soil
so that I may be a place of beauty
in which the Holy One can walk
and be refreshed.
I have learned to draw the water of prayer
from the deep well of grace
and carry my buckets far across the landscape
to sustain my newly germinated virtues.
I have engineered an elaborate system of aqueducts,
used all my might to turn the crank of the water wheel
to channel that grace to my delicate sprouts.
I have dug little ditches
all the way from the Mother Ditch
so that the water of prayer could seep into my garden
from the earth herself.
And now, gentle handmaid
of the Architect of all that lives,
I await the grace of his gentle rain.

Teach me, wise sister, to be patient.
Teach me to love the emptiness.
Help me to attain the Prayer of Recollection:
gather my unruly thoughts,
my distracting desires,
my memories and projections.
Point them all like arrows
toward the center of my soul.
Send me straight home.
I will sit here
until the mud settles in my cup
and the water of my mind
grows clear.

Teach me, wise sister, to be still.
Teach me to love the silence.
Help me to attain the Prayer of Quiet:
once I have hollowed out my soul
with intention,
show the Holy One where I am
so that he will come and fill me.
I have tasted the warmth of that grace.
I have felt the brush of his lips on my face.
I am empty, now,
And ferociously hungry.

Teach me, wise sister, to be nobody.
Teach me to love my dying.
Help me to attain the Prayer of Union:
I know that I know nothing, now.
That my small self is a moth
inexorably drawn to the divine flame.
There is no turning back.
Let lover melt into Beloved.
Let nothing remain but love.
You have died in him again and again.
Show me the way.

Oh, Mother Teresa,
Help me to see the difference
between embracing the earth
and loosening my attachments to the world.
Let me love my imperfect body
and my unruly emotions.
Let me honor creation
and tend her creatures.
Let me eat with gusto,
sleep in peace,
and make beautiful and useful things
with my own hands.

Amen.

Mirabai Starr in Saint Teresa of Avila by Teresa of Avila