I love pearls. They are probably my favorite gemstone. I wear them often. Most of mine are freshwater and some are fake, but I do have a few authentic, expensive saltwater specimens. You may notice that my blogger avatar is a cubist (?) interpretation of Johannes Vermeer’s Girl With Pearl Earring. An admirer once told me that I had a resemblance to that girl in the face. One of the most romantic compliments a man has ever paid me.
The mystique of pearls–to me–is that they are formed, created, in a defense mechanism. And that they are made by such primitive animals (like honey–such exquisite candy from the stomach of an insect).
Beauty from Pain.
(update: I’d like to add a caveat to the above–I was referring to the creation of pearls, and, perhaps, to my personal…interests. Otherwise, in general, I do not believe that suffering is ennobling, spiritually refining, or beneficial to the human character. I’ll leave that horseshit sermon to the State and the Church.)