The Jade Pure, the Most Pure, and the High Pure Realms represent three levels of enlightenment. To rise to the Jade Pure Realm is to attain wu-chi, the highest form of enlightenment. This is complete union with the Tao. To enter the Realm of the Great Pure is to exist in a state in which subject and object are differentiated but are integral parts of the Tao. It is a lesser form of enlightenment. To attain the Realm of the High Pure is to exist in harmony with nature and humanity, to live according to the laws of nature, and to embody the highest virtues of humanity. This is the lowest form of enlightenment.
Shui-ch'ing Tzu (between 1600 & 1911 -)
Source: commentary on T'ai Shang Ch'ing-ching Ching, written in Six Dynasties Era (220-589 AD), p 7
These clipper ships of the early 1850's were built of wood in shipyards from Rockland in Maine to Baltimore. These architects, like poets who transmute nature's message into song, obeyed what wind and wave had taught them, to create the noblest of all sailing vessels, and the most beautiful creations of man in America. With no extraneous ornament except a figurehead, a bit of carving and a few lines of gold leaf, their one purpose of speed over the great ocean routes was achieved by perfect balance of spars and sails to the curving lines of the smooth black hull; and this harmony of mass, form and color was practiced to the music of dancing waves and of brave winds whistling in the rigging. These were our Gothic cathedrals, our Parthenon; but monuments carved from snow. For a few brief years they flashed their splendor around the world, then disappeared with the finality of the wild pigeon.
Samuel Eliot Morison (1887 - 1976)
Source: The Oxford History of the American People, 1965, ch. 36
Somewhere there's music, how faint the tune.... Some tribal cultures believe that the act of creation takes place through music. They literally sing their homes, their villages and their valleys into existence. They keep them strong and real regularly and ritually through music and belief. It's a little like prayer, isn't it? Somewhere in the world, someone is chanting their own universe into being right now. We modern folk are not so different from this. We speak of being in tune, of needing harmony and rhythm to feel complete and alive. We create our own realities with our words and our songs, our eyes and our hands. Each world is defined by our own outline, the envelope of skin and nerves and light and air we inhabit. Every time we push against something, we feel ourselves.
Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world: all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power.
I paused to listen to the silence. My breath, crystallized as it passed my cheeks, drifted on a breeze gentler than a whisper. The wind vane pointed toward the South Pole. Presently the wind cups ceased their gentle turning as the cold killed the breeze. My frozen breath hung like a cloud overhead. The day was dying, the night was being born-but with great peace. Here were the imponderable processes and forces of the cosmos, harmonious and soundless. Harmony, that was it! That was what came out of the silence-a gentle rhythm, the strain of a perfect chord, the music of the spheres, perhaps. It was enough to catch that rhythm, momentarily to be myself a part of it. In that instant I could feel no doubt of man's oneness with the universe. The conviction came that that rhythm was too orderly, too harmonious, too perfect to be a product of blind chance-that, therefore, there must be purpose in the whole and that man was part of that whole and not an accidental offshoot. It was a feeling that transcended reason; that went to the heart of a man's despair and found it groundless. . . . For those who seek it, there is inexhaustible evidence of an all-pervading intelligence. Man is not alone.