\section{The Heralds of Longing}

\lettrine[lraise=0.1]{T}{his} idea of the Cosmos ``moving itself forward'' has been explored, in various forms, across many millennia and traditions.

Plato (428--348 BCE) called it Erōs. Not sexual desire --- that's a late corruption of the word. 
Erōs in his \textit{Symposium} and \textit{Phaedrus} is the force that moves all things toward the Good, the True, the Beautiful. It operates in matter, in souls, in minds, in the Divine. It is cosmological first, personal second.

Aristotle (384--322 BCE) called it \textit{entelechy} --- the internal orientation of a thing toward its own completion. Every acorn entelechially longs to be an oak. Not consciously. Structurally. It is in the very nature, the very being of what makes it an acorn.

St. Augustine of Hippo (354--430 AD): ``Our heart is restless until it rests in Thee.'' This is usually read as personal piety. But Augustine means it cosmologically --- that restlessness is built into created beings as such. All of creation longs. Humans are just the place where that longing becomes articulate.

Hegel (1770--1831) called it \textit{Geist} --- Spirit --- moving through history and nature toward self-knowledge. The Cosmos coming to know itself through its own unfolding.

Teilhard de Chardin (1881--1955) called it the \textit{Omega Point} --- evolution as the cosmos complexifying toward a final convergence of consciousness. He saw it in chemistry, biology, psychology, and theology as a single continuous movement. He was a paleontologist. He meant it literally.

Whitehead (1861--1947) built an entire metaphysics --- Process Philosophy --- on the claim that every actual occasion, at every scale, has ``prehension'': a reaching toward what is beyond it. Longing is metaphysically fundamental. It goes all the way down.

The book \textit{Song of Songs} in the Bible 
--- an eight chapter ecstatic love poem 
--- was a favorite of Christian mystics. 
They understood it as describing the Longing between God and The Soul.

Rumi (1207--1273), the great Persian mystical poet, wrote: 
``The reed-flute cries after the reed-bed it was cut from.''\footnote{From the opening of Rumi's \textit{Masnavi}} 
We are that reed --- the place where the cosmos's longing for reunion with the Divine becomes articulate, becomes song. 
Separation is illusion. Longing is remembrance.

Even modern secular people who reject all such language, often betray the intuition in spite of themselves. 
They speak of ``becoming who I am,'' of ``finding what I'm meant for,'' of ``following what calls me.'' 
These are not the native phrases of a truly mechanical universe. They're intuitions of what it means to be human.

They are the phrases of creatures who suspect, however dimly, that Reality is not only made of stuff.

It is also made of summons.

Of invitations.

Of thresholds.

Of things that pull.
