A beginner must look upon himself as making a garden, wherein our Lord may take His delight, but in a soil unfruitful, and abounding in weeds. His Majesty roots up the weeds, and has to plant good herbs. Let us, then, take for granted that this is already done when a soul is determined to give itself to prayer, and has begun the practice of it. We have, then, as good gardeners, by the help of God, to see that the plants grow, to water them carefully, that they may not die, but produce blossoms, which shall send forth much fragrance, refreshing to our Lord, so that He may come often for His pleasure into this garden, and delight Himself in the midst of these virtues.
Let us now see how this garden is to be watered, that we may understand what we have to do: how much trouble it will cost us, whether the gain be greater than the trouble, or how long a time it will take us. It seems to me that the garden may be watered in four ways: by water taken out of a well, which is very laborious; or with water raised by means of an engine and buckets, drawn by a windlass--I have drawn it this way sometimes--it is a less troublesome way than the first, and gives more water; or by a stream or brook, whereby the garden is watered in a much better way--for the soil is more thoroughly saturated, and there is no necessity to water it so often, and the labour of the gardener is much less; or by showers of rain, when our Lord Himself waters it, without labour on our part--and this way is incomparably better than all the others of which I have spoken.
Teresa interestingly associates the water with the tears of repentance or, alternatively, inward devotion. The first way, laboriously drawing water from a well, is the way of the beginner in spiritual prayer. It takes effort, and often difficult effort, to still the mind, quiet the passions, focus without distraction on what is to be loved. Many who are faced with this labor are tempted to stop, because it is so difficult, and sometimes the result is so small in comparison with the effort, and sometimes, just as the person always drawing from a well may reach the point where his arms ache so much he cannot pull anymore, so may the beginner in prayer reach the point where she can't think even one more good thought. This, Teresa thinks, is one of the things meant by bearing the Cross of Christ. The second way is when the one who prays has received the gift of the prayer of quiet, and therefore can refresh the garden of the soul in a peaceful and restful way, without struggle. This prayer of quiet may be occasional or constant, depending on how much the one who prays has grown. In the third way, prayer flows naturally and abundantly, so that the only trouble is to direct the water this way and that to where it needs to go. It is a sort of sleep or miniature death to the world in which the faculties become wholly absorbed in contemplating and loving God, but it falls short of full union and so exhibits curious properties: the soul is in a state of "delectable disquiet", and it wants to praise God actively and verbally ("it would be all tongue if it could" Teresa says), but it (so to speak) trips over itself and can't give its words orderly form; if she manages to do so it is more with God's help than on her own. In the fourth way, the one who prays is caught up in the prayer; in a sense it is God who prays, and she is merely swept along with His prayer, overcome and overwhelmed. It is a state of total union.
One can't choose, of course, which way is available to the garden, since that is in the Lord's hands. But the garden still needs to be watered.
