Emotions can be detached from the will, from their connection to purposive action, from the need to do something about them. They can be experienced like music, only truer and stronger. You pass through emotions, or they pass through you and so you come to agree with the shallow wisdom that the truth of them lies in their passingness. But inevitable as this might be, it is the only the negative and disintegrating phase of emotion that is acknowledged. Every strong enough emotion contains a sense of necessity, they drive at something and that something has to be - you recover your own forgotten necessity in them. You are not telling yourself that these things are true, you are vividly experiencing the angle of view in which they are self-revealing as true, as carrying some irreducible quotient of your lost truth, of your lost unity and vastness; you can't doubt because they are more true than you are. Where does all the longing go? It yearns from out of a prior fulfillment, prior to the split of mind from body, a fleeting recognition of absolute being, of absolute self-possession, so that presence takes on one of the colours of absolute self-loss. As if you pass by a magnet (un aimant) that causes every intention, every dipole within you to turn towards it out or sheer recognition of kinship and come alive it flooded awareness with its spectral signature.