H
hypnotist
Guest
I doubt that St. Therese would have used the term self-hypnosis, but what she describes here is an instance of what hypnotists describe as self hypnosis and something that hypnotists help other people to learn.
The quotation is from Chapter 10 of Story of A Soul
"For a long time my place at meditation was near a Sister who
fidgeted continually, either with her Rosary, or something else;
possibly, as I am very quick of hearing, I alone heard her, but I
cannot tell you how much it tried me. I should have liked to turn
round, and by looking at the offender, make her stop the noise;
but in my heart I knew that I ought to bear it tranquilly, both
for the love of God and to avoid giving pain. So I kept quiet, but
the effort cost me so much that sometimes I was bathed in
perspiration, and my meditation consisted merely in suffering with
patience. After a time I tried to endure it in peace and joy, at
least deep down in my soul, and I strove to take actual pleasure
in the disagreeable little noise. Instead of trying not to hear
it, which was impossible, I set myself to listen, as though it had
been some delightful music, and my meditation–which was not the
“prayer of quiet”–was passed in offering this music to Our Lord.
Another time I was working in the laundry, and the Sister
opposite, while washing handkerchiefs, repeatedly splashed me with
dirty water. My first impulse was to draw back and wipe my face,
to show the offender I should be glad if she would behave more
quietly; but the next minute I thought how foolish it was to
refuse the treasures God offered me so generously, and I refrained
from betraying my annoyance. On the contrary, I made such efforts
to welcome the shower of dirty water, that at the end of half an
hour I had taken quite a fancy to this novel kind of aspersion,
and I resolved to come as often as I could to the happy spot where
such treasures were freely bestowed."
The quotation is from Chapter 10 of Story of A Soul
"For a long time my place at meditation was near a Sister who
fidgeted continually, either with her Rosary, or something else;
possibly, as I am very quick of hearing, I alone heard her, but I
cannot tell you how much it tried me. I should have liked to turn
round, and by looking at the offender, make her stop the noise;
but in my heart I knew that I ought to bear it tranquilly, both
for the love of God and to avoid giving pain. So I kept quiet, but
the effort cost me so much that sometimes I was bathed in
perspiration, and my meditation consisted merely in suffering with
patience. After a time I tried to endure it in peace and joy, at
least deep down in my soul, and I strove to take actual pleasure
in the disagreeable little noise. Instead of trying not to hear
it, which was impossible, I set myself to listen, as though it had
been some delightful music, and my meditation–which was not the
“prayer of quiet”–was passed in offering this music to Our Lord.
Another time I was working in the laundry, and the Sister
opposite, while washing handkerchiefs, repeatedly splashed me with
dirty water. My first impulse was to draw back and wipe my face,
to show the offender I should be glad if she would behave more
quietly; but the next minute I thought how foolish it was to
refuse the treasures God offered me so generously, and I refrained
from betraying my annoyance. On the contrary, I made such efforts
to welcome the shower of dirty water, that at the end of half an
hour I had taken quite a fancy to this novel kind of aspersion,
and I resolved to come as often as I could to the happy spot where
such treasures were freely bestowed."