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The Hymn of the Pearl

Translated by William Wright, London, 1871

When I was a little child,

and dwelling in my kingdom,

in my father’s house, and was content with the wealth and the

luxuries of my nourishers,

from the East, our home,

my parents equipped me (and) sent me forth;

and of the wealth of our treasury

they took abundantly, (and) tied up for me a load

large and (yet) light, which I myself could carry,

gold of Beth-Ellaya,

and silver of Gazak the great,

and rubies of India,

and agates from Beth-Kashan,

and they furnished me with the adamant,

which can crush iron.

And they took off from me the glittering robe,

which in their affection they made for me,

and the purple toga,

which was measured (and) woven to my stature.

And they made a compact with me,

and wrote it in my heart, that it might not be forgotten:

“If thou goest down into Egypt,

and bringest the one pearl,

which is in the midst of the sea

around the loud-breathing serpent,

thou shalt put on thy glittering robe

and thy toga, with which (thou art) contented,

and with thy brother, who is next to us in authority,

thou shalt be heir in our kingdom.”

I quitted the East (and) went down,

there being two guardians,

for the way was dangerous and difficult,

and I was very young to travel it.

I passed through the borders of Maishan,

the meeting-place of the merchants of the East,

and I reached the land of Babel,

and I entered the walls of Sarbug.

I went down into Egypt,

and my companions parted from me.

I went straight to the serpent,

I dwelt in his abode,

(waiting) till he should lumber and sleep,

and I could take my pearl from him.

And when I was single and alone

(and) became strange to my family,

one of my race, a free-born man,

and Oriental, I saw there,

a youth fair and loveable,

the son of oil-sellers;

and he came and attached himself to me,

and I made him my intimate friend,

and associate with whom I shared my merchandise.

I warned him against the Egyptians,

and against consorting with the unclean;

And I dressed in their dress,

that they might not hold me in abhorrence,

because I was come from abroad in order to take the pearl,

and arouse the serpent against me.

But in some way other or another

they found out that I was not their countryman,

and they dealt with me treacherously,

and gave their food to eat.

I forget that I was a son of kings,

and I served their king;

and I forgot the pearl,

for which my parents had sent me,

and because of the burden of their oppressions

I lay in a deep sleep.

But all this things that befell me

my parents perceived, and were grieved for me;

and proclamation was made in our kingdom,

that every one should come to our gate [kingdom],

kings and princes of Parthia,

and all the nobles of the East.

And they wove a plan on my behalf,

that I might not be left in Egypt;

and they wrote to me a letter,

and every noble signed his name to it:

“From thy father, the king of kings,

and thy mother, the mistress of the East,

and from thy brother, our second (in authority),

to thee our son, who art in Egypt, greeting!

Call to mind that thou art a son of kings!

See the slavery,--whom thou servest!

Remember the pearl,

for which thou was sent to Egypt!

Think of thy robe,

and remember thy splendid toga,

which thou shalt wear and (with which) thou shalt be adorned,

when thy name hath been read out in the list of the valiant,

and thy brother, our viceroy,

thou shalt be in our kingdom.”

My letter is a letter,

which the king sealed with his own right hand,

(to keep it) from the wicked ones, the children of Babel,

and from the savage demons of Sarbug.

It flew in the likeness of an eagle,

the king of all birds;

it flew and alight beside me,

and became all speech.

At its voice and the sound of its rustling,

I started and arose from my sleep.

I took it up and kissed it,

and I began (and) read it;

and according to what was traced on my heart

were the words of my letter.

I remembered that I was a son of royal parents,

and my noble birth asserted itself.

I remembered the pearl,

for which I had been sent to Egypt,

and I began to charm him,

the terrible loud breathing serpent.

I hushed him asleep and lulled him into slumber,

for my father’s name I named over him,

and the name of our second (in power),

and that of my mother, the queen of the East.

And I snatched away the pearl,

and turned to go back to my father’s house.

And their filthy and unclean dress I stripped off,

and left it in their country;

and I took my way straight to come

to the light of our home in the East.

And my letter, my awakener,

I found before me on the road;

and as with its voice it had awakened me,

(so) too with its light it was leading me.

It, that dwelt in the palace,

gave light before me with its form,

and with its voice and its guidance

it also encouraged me to speed,

and with its love it drew me on.

I went forth (and) passed by Sarbug;

I left Babel on my left hand;

and I came to the great Maisan,

to the haven of merchants,

which sitteth on the shore of the sea.

And my bright robe, which I had stripped off,

and the toga that was wrapped with it,

from Rantha and Reken[?]

my parents had sent thither

by the hand of their treasures,

who in their truth could be trusted therewith.

And because I remembered not its fashion,—

for in my childhood I had left it in my father’s house,—

on a sudden, when I received it,

the garment seemed to me to become like a mirror of myself.

I saw it all in all,

and I to received all in it,

for we were two in distinction

and yet gain one in one likeness.

And the treasurers too,

who brought it to me, I saw in like manner

to be two (and yet) one likeness,

for one sign of the king was written on them (both),

of the hands of him who restored to me through them

my trust and my wealth,

my decorated robe, which

was adorned with glorious colors,

with gold and beryls

and rubies and agates

and sardonyxes, varied in color.

And it was skillfully worked in its home on high,

and with diamond clasps

were all its seams fastened;

and the image of the king of kings

was embroidered and depicted in full all over it,

and like the stone of the sapphire too

its hues were varied.

And I saw also that all over it

the instincts of knowledge were working,

and I saw too that it was preparing to speak.

I heard the sound of its tones,

which it uttered with its (illegible text), (saying):

“I am the active in deeds,

whom they reared for him before my father;

and I perceived myself,

that my stature grew according to his labors.”

And in its kingly movements

it poured itself entirely over me,

and on the hand of its givers

it hastened that I might take it.

And love urged me to run

to meet it and receive it;

and I stretched forth and took it.

With the beauty of its colors I adorned myself,

and I wrapped myself wholly in my toga

of brilliant hues.

I clothed myself with it, and went up to the gate

of salutation and prostration;

I bowed my head and worshipped the majesty

of my father who sent me,—

for I had done his commandments,

and he too had done what he promised,—

and the gate of his (illegible text),

I mingled with his princes,

for he rejoiced in me and received me,

and I was with him in his kingdom,

and with the voice of (illegible text)

all his servants praised him.

And he promised that to the gate too

of the king of kings with him I should go,

and with my offering and my pearl

with him should present myself to our king.

The Hymn of Judas Thomas the Apostles,

which he spake in prison, is ended.

• • •

This hymn is a Gnostic text lifted from the Acts of Thomas. It comprises a portion of the entire apocryphal text. It is entitled; The Hymn of the Pearl and is a story about the princely nature of a son that sets out to recapture the immense PEARL (at the behest of his parents) that is hidden in the ocean under the watchful eye of the dragon.

The dear son forgets his princely nature—and his goal and aim in coming to gain the immense treasure and wealth—and gets stuck in the hugger-mugger of routine and daily life. The father—the KING—needs to send a reminder to him to get it together, capture the prize, and head home and put on his princely robes one more time.

This battle with the forgetfulness of who we are in the divine nature of things is exactly what the Shadow/Duende is about. I have included the hymn here because it is a great place to begin to get an understanding of the Shadow/Duende and all of the hidden things in life that tickle us into not remembering who we really are.

There is a sensational book that highlights this text and other similar Syriac/Gnostic tales “The Wisdom of the Pearlers” (An Anthology of Syriac Christian Mysticism). It is well worth the read. It is a guide map of the interior life which is somehow a GPS of the soul and able to track interior coordinates on the exterior landscape of the lives we live. A lot of mystic literature performs the same role and function in our lives – gives us an x-ray of what God and the cosmos call us into living while we are here.

This particular tale is a part of the ilk of literature that the church would recognize as “Prodigal Son” literature. They are stories about what we do with ourselves in trying to find out who we are. They involve shadows, reflections, impressions, conflicts, forgetting of identity and calling, battle, and then a sort of ultimate triumph through some sort of humbling remembrance and return.

All of this is wrapped up in and around the notion of DUENDE – the theme of this volume. Duende is that place in us where the two halves of our life are conjoined. It is the place where we go down into the self and gather up that opposing force to our immediate nature. It involves the undoing of the “pretending-everything-is-ok-mechanism” in us and it is an overall waking up to the forces of conflict in life and actually mustering a strength to make abiding choices. Many throughout time have likened this awaking process to dreams and forgetfulness and because of that it seeks to reveal itself in shadows and reflections.

These “Prodigal Son” tales tend to end up someplace familiar; reminding us that we are who we are, no matter where we are. And, in order to become that which we think we are destined to become; we must return to our center and be who we have been all along. The tales tend to forge a unified self from both the “self” that exists in the light [the known-self] and the “self” that exists in the darkness [the unknown-self]. There is a going outside of ourselves to capture and regain some piece of who we already are. Then we bring it back inside of us.

It is a MYSTERY.

Some liked to note and identify these Gnostic tales as the stories of saviors who needed saving. In that vein, they are really tales about wounded healers or just plain common folk who begin to recognize the commonplace nature of the divine indwelling. The redeemer-prince tales speak to us of our complex nature. We are at one time divine and human; terrestrial and celestial.

• • •

Robert Bly spoke of the Shadow as the bag we drag behind us. We throw pieces of ourselves into the bag that we do not want to bring to the light of day – things we do not want other people to see. It starts with pieces of ourselves that others tell us they do not want to see.

In this light the Shadow is the personality of the son (in the gnostic tale from the beginning), but it is his forgetful-self – the portion of him who forgot he was the Prince.

Our bag of Shadow-stuff fills up easily. We ditch everything we are told or suppose is no good. At first it will be our parents that tell us what they do not want to see. Then it will be our teachers and our mentors. Then it will become our peers that tell us what they do not want to see. Their “shame-things” go in the Shadow-bag.

This is how we adapt—stuffing things in the bag to keep ourselves relevant and loved. We long to belong. We learn to feel shame at the things that separate us from belonging.

The stuff we are ashamed of is tossed into the bag and we pull it in our wake; not mentioning its presence and its worth. Just dragging the bag, we feel we are set free from the pieces of ourselves that we do not understand or cannot resolve (or more rightly put – things others do not understand about us and cannot resolve). Alas, the reality that we forget is that they are not gone.

We are bent under the weight of our attempts to hide our darkness. We limp and drag ourselves ahead because we are tethered to our bag – we are dragging a Shadow all along the way.

Like it or not, the Shadow is carried about. You can hide it, but it is still being carried.

• • •

This whole Shadow process is really laid out quite nicely in the Hymn of the Pearl. The son must leave his home and go and get his treasure which is somewhere else. He must “go down into Egypt”, or dig into his bag. There he must “snatch away the pearl and return to his father’s house”, or take out the pieces of his Shadow that are in the bag and return them to his “self”.

So, Duende is the process of going down and into the shadow bag of the self, and retrieving the “stuff” that has been hidden in the bag.

There will be some sort of dreamlike thing that happens in the process. Either she/he will fall into a trance and forget her/his mission (like in the Pearl), or she/he will be enticed into the therapeutic process through dream-work (Jungian analysis). In either case she/he will be returned to wholeness. This is Shadow-work. It is retrieving the thing that will make us whole. It is recognizing that the thing that has wounded us is a part of the process of mending and becoming whole.

The Shadow is Duende. And, the whole process of Shadow-work or Duende-work is tiring. It is consumptive. I think that is why we can really only expect to be able to do this work in mid-life. At that point we are worn down enough from the battle of life, that we are able to accept the pieces of our disparate self and integrate them. Not because we choose to, but because we recognize that to integrate them is somehow a wiser and a less energy-depleting activity. It is making peace by saving energy.

There is a wisdom in that. It is the wisdom of mercy, and grace, and acceptance. It is the wisdom of understanding the processes that run underground in this landscape we call life and living.

• • •

Because most of the things that we are expected to hide in the bag have to do with suffering, pain, agony, darkness, sensuality, differentness, having an earthy body, and brokenness; we can expect that Duende will take us to the edge of these things and seek to get us comfortable with their existence and presence. So for the sake of this body of poems, we can use the terms interchangeably. But I want to add some differing hues to the richness we have painted in our description of the Shadow/Duende and the bag of stuff that has been stuffed.

• • •

Duende is a trickster. Duende is the acknowledgement of the downward pull at mid-life. Duende is the assent to sensuality and forbidden-ness. Duende is the unspoken drive that moves through life, upsetting all attempts to order and organize. Duende is that other persona that hides just behind the one we acknowledge. And, it is also the sense of becoming so familiar with the emergence of shadow-bag-stuff, that one is not only unembarrassed, but comfortable in its showing and emergence.