The ongoing struggle between dependence and love—between the human need to rely on others and the divine call to give freely without conditions—is ultimately resolved through the paradoxical nature of faith. Just as a tiny mustard seed has the power to move mountains (as described in Matthew 17:20), divine love has the capacity to transform human longing into a boundless, gratuitous communion. To be loved without conditions means to be recognized as already whole and complete—a reflection of the eternal, perfect relationship within the Trinity itself, known as perichoresis. In this divine dance, relationship is not born out of deficiency but from the fullness of divine love, where each Person of the Godhead mutually indwells the others in perfect harmony, without any lack. In this divine fulfillment, human beings are not simply fulfilled by having their needs met; rather, they are invited into sharing in the very being of God—an aseity that is free, eternal, and unbounded. Here, every human desire is ultimately directed toward the beatific vision—seeing God face to face (1 Corinthians 13:12)—where the finite self dissolves into the infinite divine presence. As a result, the individual ego yields to the divine vortex—a movement not of destruction but of glorification—where being needed is overshadowed by the joy of being loved endlessly. This raises a profound philosophical and theological question: Is true authenticity found in existing as something that is necessary or needed, or in being loved unconditionally? This dilemma echoes Heidegger’s idea of Geworfenheit, our fundamental thrownness into a world filled with contingent beauty, where the self circles within a solitary vortex, distant from the fullness of divine presence. Yet, when we enter into divine union—similar to Plotinus’s ascent to the One—we are radically transformed. The fragmented, external self is dissolved into a participatory unity; our true nature is reshaped not as a mere lack but as an ecstatic overflow of divine life. Such a transformation, however, introduces tension: because if everything—our thoughts, our will, our emotions—originates from and aims toward the divine source (as Colossians 1:16–17 states, “all things were created through him and for him”), then human experience continually oscillates between finite needs and infinite grace. Drawing on Aquinas’s distinctions in the Summa Theologica, love driven by desire—amor concupiscentiae—perceives the beloved as a means to personal fulfillment, whereas love rooted in friendship—amor amicitiae—wills the good of the other simply for their own sake. To be needed relies on a relationship based on deficiency—a self seen as a supplement filling an emptiness in the other—a concept comparable to Aristotle’s notion of utility in friendship, which can serve functional purposes but lacks true freedom. In contrast, unconditional love echoes divine self-giving—like Christ’s kenosis in Philippians 2:7—a generous pouring out that is not dependent on reciprocity but on pure gift. Your insight that immersing oneself in God frees the soul “from all ties” aligns with Pseudo-Dionysius’s depiction of divine eros in *The Divine Names*, where divine love elevates the lover beyond possessiveness into union, where desire is not satisfied but eternally deepened through the process of theosis. Still, this divine joy confronts the mystery of human longing’s opacity: often, we distrust our desires, suspecting them to be remnants of original sin—the inherited concupiscence that turns the will inward, as Luther interpreted in his reading of Augustine’s Confessions. If, as you suggest, true fulfillment is found solely in God—echoing Augustine’s claim that the restless heart finds its rest in Him—then misguided desires lead us to view ourselves with suspicion. Hope, therefore, is more than mere optimistic expectation; it is a divine virtue—granted by grace—that propels us beyond our limitations toward an ultimate horizon. From this divine perspective, our wants are met with a simple response: God’s own simplicity encompasses all from beginning to end (Revelation 22:13). God's knowledge is not coercive but invitational; He loves us into hope, offering desires unconditionally, perceiving us not through our flaws but through the divine image reflected in the eternal Logos (Ephesians 1:4–5)—a preordained likeness that remains untouched by contingency.