\section{Living with Longing}

\lettrine{L}{onging} does not culminate the way Desire does. It deepens. The horizon is not a destination that, once reached, permits rest. 

Desire knows what arrival looks like. The meal is eaten. The sleep is taken. There is completion, even if it recurs.

Longing does not arrive. When it seems to, what actually happens is that a new horizon opens. The composer who finally captures the phrase that has been haunting them for years doesn't find release --- they find a new phrase, deeper in, more demanding. The mystic who reaches contemplative union finds that the depth has no floor. The scientist whose theory is confirmed finds three new questions where one had been.

This is not frustration. This is not Longing misfiring. This is what genuine engagement with reality feels like. Reality doesn't run out. It opens.
