Julia Kristeva
Thérèse mon Amour
Je vous salue, Thérèse, femme sans frontières, corps physique érotique
hystérique épileptique, qui se fait verbe qui se fait chair, qui se défait en soi hors de soi, flots d’images sans tableaux, tumultes de paroles cascades d’éclosions, jumeau du Christ, c’est Lui au plus intime de moi, moi Thérèse, femme d’affaires, fondatrice, jubilatrice, mourir de ne pas mourir c’est écrire, une sorte de demeure, de jeu, Dieu nous aime joueuses mes filles, croyez-moi, mais oui, échec et mat à Dieu aussi, bien sûr, ça délivre, ça s’écoule, les âmes qui aiment écoutent, elles voient jusqu’aux atomes, ça les fait jouir, des atomes infiniment amoureux, mais oui, Thérèse, oui, ma sœur extatique excentrique appelée touchée imaginée pensée repensée dépensée, hors de vous en vous, hors de moi en moi, oui, Thérèse mon amour.
Julia Kristeva, écrivain et psychanalyste, a publié chez Fayard Etrangers à nous-mêmes, Les Nouvelles Maladies de l’âme, Sens et non-sens de la révolte, La Révolte intime, Le Génie féminin (Hannah Arendt, Melanie Klein, Colette), ainsi que quatre romans : Les Samouraïs, Le Vieil Homme et les loups, Possessions et Meurtre à Byzance.
http://www.fayard.fr/therese-mon-amour-9782213625072
Al Suq la santità e la passione di Teresa d’Avila
Teresa, mon amour – Carla Peirolero © suqgenova.it
A Genova, la prima nazionale di Teresa, mon amour. Il testo di Julia Kristeva, ispirato alla santa. In scena Carla Peirolero e Roberta Alloisio. Il 22 giugno
http://genova.mentelocale.it/65635-genova-al-suq-santita-passione-teresa-d-avila/
| Le grand livre de Julia Kristeva sur Thérèse d’Avila, Thérèse mon amour(Fayard 2008) vient de paraître en anglais chez Columbia University Press |
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Translated by Lorna Scott-Fox Columbia University Press, New York, 2014 |
| Mixing fiction, history, psychoanalysis, and personal fantasy, Teresa, My Lovefollows Sylvia Leclercq, a French psychoanalyst, academic, and incurable insomniac, as she falls for the sixteenth-century Saint Teresa of Avila and becomes consumed with charting her life. Traveling to Spain, Leclercq, Kristeva’s probing alterego, visits the sites and embodiments of the famous mystic and awakens to her own desire for faith, connection, and rebellion.One of Kristeva’s most passionate and transporting works, Teresa, My Love interchanges biography, autobiography, analysis, dramatic dialogue, musical scores, and images of paintings and sculptures to embed the reader in Leclercq’s—and Kristeva’s—journey. Born in 1515, Teresa of Avila survived the Spanish Inquisition and was a key reformer of the Carmelite Order. Her experience of ecstasy, which she intimately described in her writings, released her from her body and led to a complete realization of her consciousness, a state Kristeva explores in relation to present-day political failures, religious fundamentalism, and cultural malaise. Incorporating notes from her own psychoanalytic practice, as well as literary and philosophical references, Kristeva builds a fascinating dual diagnosis of contemporary society and the individual psyche while sharing unprecedented insights into her own character.Hail Teresa, borderless woman, physical hysterical erotic epileptic, made word, made flesh, who unravels inside and outside herself, tides of images without pictures, tumults of words, cascades of florescence, a thousand tongues listening out for whom for what, listening to time etched in stone, eardrum larynx cry out write out, night and brightness, too much body yet disembodied, beyond matter, empty gaping matrix throbbing for the Beloved ever-present and yet never there, but there’s presence and presence, His in her, hers in Him, sensed felt buried, sensation without perception, dart or glass, pierced or transparent, that is the question, transverberated instead, and again inundated, La Madre being the most virile of monks, most canny of the herders of souls, a veritable twin of Christ, she is He, He is she, the Truth is me, or Him in the deepest part of me, me Teresa, a successful paranoiac, God is myself and what of it, what’s the matter? A free-for-all, who can beat that ? Certainly not Schreber, not even Freud, awfully serious chap from Vienna, gloomy rather, a woman finds it easier to talk about these things, what things, well, her of course, her beside herself, obviously, in the throes of dread and delight, little butterfly expiring with indelible joy because Jesus has become it or rather her, butterfly-Jesus, woman-Jesus, I know someone who though she’s not a poet composes poems without trying, novels that are poems with an extra something, extra movements, I wonder whether it is really I, Teresa, speaking, the path that is pain, the Nothingness of everything, that everything which is nothing, do what is in you to do, but gaily, be cheerful, my daughters, for twenty years I vomited every morning, now it’s in the evenings and it’s harder to bring up, I have to provoke it with a feather or some such thing, like a baby a baby girl if you prefer latched on to the Other’s teat, mystic or is it spiritual marriage, young John of the Cross says there’s a difference, I don’t really see it, more like two sides of a coin, or like the Song of Songs, as always as ever she sings off-key but she writes true and carries on founding her convents, her girls, her Church, her own gestation, her game, a game of chess, games are allowed, oh yes, even in a cloister, especially in a cloister, God loves us to be playful, believe me, girls, Jesus loved women, what are the Doctors so scared of in us, yes, checkmate to God too, oh yes, Teresa or Molly Bloom, I am numb at last, I flow into the water of the garden, flow on by, all we do is feel pleasure, souls that love can see all the way into atoms, that’s right, for yes is all there is to souls like mine, mine sees as far as the infinite atoms that are atoms of love, the philosophers don’t have a clue, they become scholars, they recoil from your sensations, the best of them are mathematicians, tamers of infinity, and yet it’s as simple as that, oh yes, metaphors mutating into metamorphoses, or possibly the other way around, oh yes, Teresa, my sister, invisible, ecstatic, eccentric, beside yourself in you, beside myself in me, yes, Teresa, my love, yes.Julia KristevaTeresa My Love |
http://www.franceinter.fr/player/reecouter?play=1077779#
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