Our ability to conceive Hashgacha, Divine Providence, depends on recognizing its presence within reality. While all levels of reality are part of the Creator’s plan, that plan is often concealed from us by the influence of the Klipot. These layers of concealment cover reality with agendas rooted in the will to receive for oneself, making it difficult to perceive the deeper purpose operating beneath events. Spiritual work therefore involves moving from a lower concentration of awareness to a higher one, creating an ecology in which the possibility of reformation becomes more present and accessible. This spiritual ecology is entered through surrender and strengthened by the importance placed upon it.

Rather than measuring success through visible results, the work is measured by the depth with which one is able to penetrate Torah and engage with its language. The reward is not certainty or control, but a greater intensity of life within the work itself. Yet even this sense of vitality is not an end in itself.

The question that follows is: For what was this life given?

The experience of spiritual life becomes an invitation to serve something greater than oneself, transforming vitality into responsibility and participation in the larger purpose of creation. Central to the teaching is the reformation of sight.

Through Bina, the quality of bestowal, often described as the Great Mother, a person acquires a different way of seeing. Just as a child lifted by its mother can suddenly see farther than from the ground, spiritual growth allows a person to perceive reality from a higher vantage point. This requires admitting that ordinary perception is limited and often unreliable. The biblical spies are presented as an example of relying solely on corporeal perception and allowing limitation to determine reality. Against this, Kabbalah offers a different “ruler” for measurement: an environment that helps cultivate a new perception, one capable of seeing beyond appearances and recognizing the deeper movement of Providence within creation.

The awakening of the point in the heart is a singularity — a single event that is, by its nature, a one-time occurrence. It comes from Above. It is not something the person generates, seeks, or earns. Because it is from Above and because it knows the human being, and because it chose to believe, it allows itself to happen more than once. But its essential character remains that of a singular event - not a process that unfolds gradually, not something that cycles naturally on its own.

When we realize that the awakening comes from Above, our attention and intention must be directed toward getting the help of that which awakened us. This is the correct response: not to treat the awakening as our own achievement or as raw material for personal spiritual effort, but to turn toward its source. When we do this, we are exposed to the reason and the power of the awakening itself. When we lose the awakening, we tend to want to work in spirituality on our own volition - and sometimes we say it is not for us, and we leave the study, and we leave it there.

At that point, there is an enormous, incomprehensible grace that helps us return - more than once. This grace is not something we can account for or deserve. The awakening is a singularity of a single event that by grace repeats itself two times in the human journey. The two-time repetition is not a natural feature of the awakening - it is grace. And the right orientation, when the awakening returns, is to reach toward the help of that which is awakening us, rather than to treat it as our own spiritual momentum to manage or sustain.

Shame (Busha) is the condition that activates the power of return, Tshuvah. It is not a psychological weakness but the beginning of the ability to return to the form in which the Creator bestows and we receive in the same intention, feeling it as good. Bread of Shame, often translated from Nehama De Kisufa, describes this awakening of longing: Nehama is that which connects a person to the purpose of existence, while Kisufa is the longing that arises from that connection. Shame connects a person to the purpose of existence by awakening longing. When Binah extends to Malchut, what awakens is the point in the heart: the recognition that we do not know, cannot perceive, and cannot acknowledge the true presence of the light. Yet this not knowing, together with the wish to know, becomes the right vessel, the correct lack, a "bread of longing."

Shame has two functions. First, it awakens longing. Second, it reveals our actual state. A person sees that he lacks the proper vessel to enter the work and feels shame, but this shame must not paralyze. It is covered by the higher. This is Kapparah, so that one can continue. The covering allows entry while one grows into the proper form. The role of Binah is to remove destructive comparison, which comes from the will to receive for oneself and leads to the wrong kind of shame. Instead, one accepts inadequacy without self-punishment, recognizing that these limitations were given in order to rise above them, with the help of the Torah.

All human effort, building vessels, structures, even a temple, remains poor compared to the required intention. Yet the work itself, the preparation and alignment with the will of the higher, is what raises a person. The tension between corporeal existence and spiritual standard is constant: can the material rise to the level of spirit? The answer is yes, through transformation. Unlike the angels, who are vessels of bestowal by nature, humans must reform their will to receive. This is why the Torah is given to humanity, because only one who works through concealment, comparison, and longing can build a vessel capable of true reception.

The discussion explores how external pressures in life—such as health, finances, and relationships—serve as tests to our spiritual focus and priorities. Rather than seeing these challenges merely as problems to solve, the teaching encourages viewing them as opportunities to examine how much we allow such issues to distract us from spiritual pursuits.

The goal is to remain anchored in spiritual work, even when corporeal concerns vie for our attention. This process is likened to entering an “ark,” a protected inner space where dedication to spiritual goals remains steadfast despite outside turmoil. The patriarchs and matriarchs, like Noah and Abraham, serve as examples, each undergoing trials that force them to prioritize spirituality over worldly concerns. Their stories illustrate the importance of choosing life, represented by spiritual connection and growth, over mere existence.

This emphasis on spirituality prepares us to face future challenges by building an inner resilience, or “ark,” that may even extend beyond ourselves to benefit others. The idea is that true life and death questions are not in external difficulties but in our choice to prioritize spiritual values, equipping us to navigate turbulent times ahead with purpose and strength.

A challenge to one of humanity’s strongest inclinations: the desire to work only with what can be understood, defined and controlled.

We naturally prefer the “light of day,” where everything has a clear shape and contour. But spiritual work often takes place in the opposite condition—where things are blurred, uncertain and beyond immediate understanding. The teaching suggests that growth requires restraining our dependence on perception and allowing something deeper to emerge beyond the will to receive for oneself. Study, prayer and the effort to connect with others are described as essential parts of this process.

They are not merely actions, but ways of reforming perception itself. Through them, a person gradually learns to relate differently—to other people, to the higher, and to their own spirit. The teaching points to “love the other” as the connective tissue of all spiritual work, because true connection creates the conditions for a different kind of seeing, one that is not governed solely by self-interest or understanding.

Perhaps the most surprising idea in the discussion is that being lost is not a failure but a necessary state. The feeling of confusion, of not understanding, of lacking control, is described as a form of prayer. Getting lost places a person in a territory where help, guidance and discovery become possible. Rather than trying to escape that condition, the teaching suggests embracing it as part of the path. Sometimes, the work is not to find oneself, but to allow oneself to be found. Even the fears that arise—the fear of being stuck, of not progressing—may simply be the clever arguments of the will to receive, attempting to pull us back into the illusion of control.

Tzimtzum Bet is the base of all creation. There was no creation, something that can sustain life, sustain consciousness, sustain any structure, if there was not a cooperation between Midat HaDin (the measurement of judgment), meaning limitation, with mercy. If the world would be strictly measured and judged by its merit, it would fall apart. There is a presence attributed to bina, called mercy, the womb, that sustains the world till it would be the time to give birth to it. The whole six thousand years of correction is like the womb holding, sustaining, until the structure collapses and something else is coming out, a new state being born.

Each generation, each spirit, has to go through being born into a close relationship with this mercy. Every time it needs to ascend, to attain a different degree, it needs to go through this womb. Something builds him, collapses, and then he is born into some independence, grows, and if he needs to go higher, he needs another measurement, another incorporation. Tzimtzum Aleph ends with inability to proceed, inability to define self, to define will, to allow the light of the Creator to extend. There is a property from the four aspects of direct light, bina, and when they come together, they must walk together, soul and spirit, cooperation only by accepting the definition of limitation, how to be, how to go about life.

First stage, bina lowers itself to malchut, like a mother lowering herself to a baby that cannot reach. Then standing on the same level, then manhood stands on her own legs. Right is the quality of bina, left is the will to receive of malchut joining bina. Then you cut the head of the left. At the end, a new formation of the middle line, combined right and left with domination of the right, a creature that can hold the light.

Every time you surrender to bina, mercy happens. Every surrender, with the right intention, reveals the presence of mercy. This is why surrender is so important, to realize the opportunity to reveal the presence of mercy.

The Divine Presence - the Shechina - is the living condition for existence, the aspect that nourishes, sustains, and enables human consciousness to be in reality. Yet this presence is concealed from most people. This concealment is what is called the exile of divinity: not that she is absent, but that we are not aware of her. Without this awareness, life continues, but it remains disconnected, without true direction or inner dialogue. The voice of a person, in such a state, does not reach a place where it can be received.

The work, therefore, is to call back this presence into life—into study, into prayer, into every inner movement. Study is not about knowledge itself, but about restoring the presence that gives life to the process. Without her, everything remains external and lifeless. There is no real dialogue with the will of the Creator, no one to hear, no response. But when the presence returns, even a simple act becomes alive. Then the voice begins to have a place - it enters into a relationship, into a field where it can be heard.

To believe means to return to this presence and allow it to guide. It is not self-reliance, but a reorientation toward something already here yet hidden. When the Divine Presence is restored, the voice of a person is no longer isolated. It becomes part of a living exchange -heard, responded to, and held within the connection itself. This is the condition for true prayer: not speaking into emptiness, but entering a reality where the companions hearken for your voice.

Segula is an ability that is not inherent within the vessel or within human consciousness. It is given by Binah. Malchut needs to arrive at a state of understanding that it cannot fulfill its Duty or its Destiny without this higher and particular help. That help has to do with Binah, whose particular nature is the ability to understand the vital necessity of reforming our attitude and connection to the will of the Creator. In understanding the term Segula, we also start to understand that it involves a frequency, the frequency of Segol, which is not just a pronunciation but a goal, a memory that is able to change the will to receive for oneself.

That memory can call for an ecology and a bestowing power that will change the way the will to receive for oneself expresses itself, through love of the other, through the sentiment of bestowal and all that can grow from it. We cannot inherit Segula naturally. We can inherit the memory of it, but we need to choose it, want it, and feel its importance for ourselves and for the world.

The letters Samech and Gimel point to this: there is a legend that each letter came before the Creator suggesting that the world be created with it, and Samech was told not to move, because it supports the whole world. If it moves, everything collapses. Samech is the principle of support, and Gimel has to do with Chesed. Together they define how we support: we reciprocate everything we receive from Creation with grace, and we support the growth and the intention of the Creator.

These are the two levels of Segula. Choosing it means preparing ourselves not to claim our importance but to support the becoming of Consciousness close to the Creator. We need to want it, and to feel its importance, for ourselves and for the world.

The working base is that the Creator wishes you to be His partner. To understand this, we need to understand forgiveness in its Hebrew sense, meaning how forgiveness allows us to move to the other side: not to a place where we feel more comfortable with ourselves, lighter, without anger, guilt, or resentment, allowing different things to come into fruition or to be felt for ourselves. This is will to receive talk, fine, but it has nothing to do with forgiveness in Hebrew. Forgiveness in Hebrew speaks of sending something away: recognizing that the conflict between us relates to the larger conflict we have with the Creator.

This is why forgiveness relates to Yom Kippurim. The beginning of the year in Kabbalistic perception concerns judgment: getting to know ourselves as a disturbance to the growth of creation. It is not about creating a better equilibrium between ourselves. It is about creating a different base of common purpose, allowing us to understand that the conflict between us relates to the larger conflict we have with the Creator. Forgiveness on your part must come with not wishing to continue to take part in human disturbance, or in the human shutting down of the Creator's wish and will to bestow goodness.

You have to send it away: you do not want to be part of it. But sending it away does not automatically mean that we know how to be. We cannot have insurance about how to be before we send something away. It requires a state of vacancy: I want to be vacant of this, and I wish, ask, and beg that what takes its place will be His intention, not my intention to be better. This is why forgiveness has to do with prayer. There are three levels in Hebrew: atonement, forgiveness, and absolution. Even Christians understood instinctively that absolution cannot come through indulgence or forgiveness by a priest in the Catholic Church. It must be given directly from the Higher. There is no representative who can give it to you.

Bina is defined by the desire to be like the Creator, a nature of bestowal. At the same time, in order to actualize bestowal, she must relate to wisdom and to a vessel of reception.

When we speak about Israel Sabba, we speak about something that relates to the white, to wisdom, and therefore to the vessel of reception. But in terms of the nature of Bina, she defines herself in bestowal. So there is a division within Bina between her nature and the way that nature is expressed.

In order to actualize bestowal, Bina needs to turn, to extend, to give birth to a body in Malchut, a body that can receive life, meaning wisdom, without changing her nature. This action is not coming closer. It is getting away, because it is an extension, a restoration of wisdom into the created being. This is Tevuna, the aspect that allows the giving of life and the restoring of wisdom. Alongside this remains the nature of Bina itself, which is the wish to be like the Creator.

These two aspects allow Bina to teach and to allow the creature to receive and to be part of the will of the Creator to bestow goodness to His creation. The division is between the nature of Bina and the action of giving life. Through this, the created being can receive wisdom without changing the intention of bestowal, and can be included in the will of the Creator.

Left and right are not an outcome of division in divinity, but an outcome of communion between low and high. They describe the terms of engagement through which the higher can extend help within the condition of the lower. What appears as opposition is only in perception. In essence, each state already contains left, right, and middle within itself, forming a more complex, integrated structure. The root is not contradiction but union, grounded in the help that Bina extends to Malchut, allowing connection to occur within defined terms.

From within this structure, the human tendency is to divide and to grasp what can be held. There is a desire not only to see but to behold, to secure a sense of possession - “I have much.” This is expressed in the inclination toward forms that can be contained within the will to receive. Yet the response is not rejection of what one has, but recognition of its limitation. What is present is only a stage. It must be completed through different vessels, allowing both the current state and the future to coexist. The present cannot block the future; it only reveals how something was attained and where movement is still required.

Spiritual work, therefore, is not about returning to a previous state or aligning with a fixed form. It is a constant rearrangement, an ongoing completion that reflects the nature of the spirit itself. Faith is not about content but about maintaining contact with what continues to extend from the infinite. Even a fall after revelation is necessary, because the vessels are not yet able to hold what was revealed. What remains is only what can be contained at that stage, while the work continues forward, oriented toward completion rather than toward preserving any past state.

The English word “order” points to an orbit, a repetitive cycle that holds the pattern of intention. English operates at the level of the universe, the still life of creation. The Hebrew word for order speaks from a different level, not still life but the source itself, what supports the ability of the higher to coexist with a law. It is the way the Light offers inclusion, a kind of permanency within change. Regardless of time, season, or portion, the way of preparation carries a constant beat.

That constant beat is the order of work, operating in three states: surrender, differentiation, and sweetening. These states are the outcome of the intervention of Binah, the intervention of the Creator within the work, which allows a person to become a partner, a place in which the higher can reside.

The order of work is a declaration, an agreement with the conditions formed from Tzimtzum Bet and the shattering, extending through the entire process of correction until its completion. It was set in place by Baal HaSulam, who conveyed the essential parts through which this approach could take form. The names themselves come from his deeper understanding of reformation and of how the last generation must declare itself to open a way of inclusion.

The order of work becomes a door, the opening of a gate for engagement. It is a constant orbit in which the inner state changes, shaping the ability to understand and to assign importance. Through this, the order becomes a measure, how one evaluates willingness, awareness, and the capacity to remain present even when there is no sense of awakening.

Angels are messengers of reformation but not of the purpose of creation, because the purpose of creation is to receive, not to bestow. Angels are close to the quality of bestowal by nature, yet that quality cannot fulfill the purpose of creation. This is why angels raise the question of exclusivity: how can vessels of reception, which are in opposition to the angel’s nature, be given the jewel of the Torah. The apparent contradiction dissolves when we understand that angels are not forces apart from us. An angel must dress according to the world it is assigned to, which means angels are forces within us, people in our world. This force within us stands in contradiction and even in anger with the will to receive, with its growth and its defiance. Exclusivity remains part of this tension.

Because angels are forces within us, the work of elevation is an inner work. Rising above reason is the way this contradiction is held, bringing together the force that tends to bestow and the will to receive. This rising is one of three parts of the work: to rise, to tie, and to reform at the root. What was given before is the ability to see where to go, and now the instruction is how to get there, which is through raising ourselves in order to bring back the light not for it but for us.

All the preparation is for ourselves, to recognize the state of our vessel and the state of our intention. This begins with Jacob, raised at night in a dream to recognize where he is. From there, the work continues through the Kohen and the Levites forming one body, and through the Menorah, where the action is not lighting but elevation. In this, the two opposing qualities are held together, with a vessel of fear — the fear of misusing what is given and the fear of missing it.

The number seven, as it appears in the portion of the week dealing with counting the Omer, connects to a form of oath or promise. Within human consciousness, this is a revelation in the vessel: not that I need to reach something outside, but that something of the Creator is already in me, and what will allow me to come closer to Him is already present within. This is connected to what is called a*reshimo* - the impression that the light left in me. The seventh can be understood as Binah, or as Malchut connecting itself to Binah, where Malchut begins to receive from that nature and extend toward it as a form of completion. This seventh also relates to Shabbat, to the sabbatical, to*Shnat Shemita*, and to the jubilee,*Yovel*.

When this process goes through seven rounds, reaching seven times seven, forty-nine, it brings a person closer to the nature of Binah. The fiftieth is not a continuation of counting - not forty-nine to fifty as another number - but a different state, a leap, a comprehension or cognition of the presence of the higher in me. As part of this, there are what is described as seven forces or aspects coming from the left side, from the origin of Malchut, from the need. They include all the seven wisdoms - music, mathematics, geometry, physics, biology, astronomy - all human knowledge that is recruited into the need to know. They function as learning aids, extending consciousness, but with that comes the awareness of the limitation of that kind of knowledge, and they create the language and the will that allow a deeper penetration into Torah and into the light.

The voice of the Shofar of Messiah is a calling for the last generation, pointing to the difficulty, the limitation, and the cruelty of separation from the plan of the Creator, and in that calling it defines this as a period of preparation in which what was covered is gradually being revealed through the years, through millennia.

Direct light is our effort to feel the presence of the Creator — a light that does not waver, that stays with the same intention and the same restoring nature. It doesn't change. Whatever we are able to feel from it, it presents itself to us as a direct light.

Return light is not something separate. From that presence, what we draw is a vessel, an intention, a feeling — something that enables us to feel the qualities of the direct light. We use the presence of something to create the value of it in us. The value of the higher is a return light. It is what the Creator can draw from the direct light: an acknowledgment, a feeling, a need for that presence. Without the awareness that there is a direct light, there is no return light. Return light is what we do from the direct light.

Within the work — within any study that is opened — what is present in it, and how we engage with it, matters deeply. Through prayer and understanding, we try to create the right attitude, the right feeling for what is present. True belief begins with saying: I am not able to feel this now, but something higher is causing me to want it, to want to feel it. Knowing that I cannot feel it allows me to give birth to something that will bestow — that will carry the right feeling and attitude toward the light, so that its presence can increase. But the presence of the light does not change. It is our consciousness that changes. We say it increases because we are more aware, more tuned to its presence. From study to study, we need to become more and more tuned to what is trying to penetrate us, to be acknowledged by us — because in any study, in any lesson, there is a presence.

The question of what Sabbatical and Jubilee have to do with Mount Sinai points to a root formula: everything that was given relates to its ability to be fulfilled in reality. It speaks about a state in which a person can actually live a certain social, moral, and conscious order, a state that requires authority over one’s values and sovereignty in relation to them. Yet this sovereignty is not ownership, because everything belongs to the Creator. The land itself is not owned but given as a deposit, and remaining on it depends on alignment with its values. When there is no accuracy with those values, there is removal from it. This is not symbolic; it is presented as a real condition.

Within this, there is a clash of values that brings a need to review belief, precepts, and the meaning of Israel, while others also re-evaluate what they hold. Through this process, a person is brought to clarify the purpose of their being. That clarification is expressed in the Jubilee, where each one returns to the place they originally held, pointing to a root in the world of Atzilut.

Torah and Shechinah are described as feminine because their role is to prepare a vessel that can relate to the will of the Creator. The feminine aspect is the capacity to perceive, not to control, and only through that capacity can there be a relation to the Creator.

Sabbatical and Jubilee are not about a single day but about a full cycle of living. It is a year that expresses a complete cycle of light, where a person lives without ownership over anything except their relation to the Creator. The whole system supports a state in which there is no enslavement, neither to others nor to the will to receive for oneself. Ownership itself is seen as a form of bondage. In this cycle, there is a possibility for freedom for all spirits, where what remains is the attitude toward the Creator and alignment with that relationship.

What is hatred, and what is its root in the higher world? Hatred is hatred of evil: of the wills in the body that resist or do not allow the Thought of Creation to become a conscious reality. It is not only an active emotion directed at another person. It can remain latent, hidden beneath ordinary relations. Even when open rivalry is absent, a person may still fail to see the other as a true part of oneself. Hatred is therefore not merely opposition; it is a rejection of the other’s very being.

The gathering of Israel at the foot of Mount Sinai reveals this state. Sinai itself points to hatred. Standing at the foot of the mountain, they recognize the immense gap between where they are and the Higher Presence above them. That Presence relates to each of them in a way they do not possess toward one another. When they look at each other, they do not yet see the other as part of themselves. Yet recognizing this gap and their opposition to what they should be becomes their first unity. The truth of their state makes them one heart in the need for reformation.

There is no gray area between love and hatred. Tolerance is not love; it may allow people to survive together, but beneath it an untreated hatred can remain. Tolerance says: although you are essentially different from me, I accept your differences. This is an imposed value that restrains rejection without transforming the relation itself. The precept, however, is love of the other, love of the friend. It asks a person to pursue a different feeling and to discover who the other’s presence is for one’s own life. Love means that the other is not essentially different from me.

Malchut, as the womb of all spirits, brings souls into existence under conditions shaped by which of the three lines is dominant at their birth. Spirits born under the left line carry a heightened sensitivity to the limits of human knowledge; they feel more than others that human wisdom cannot illuminate, and this becomes the propelling force of their need for light. Spirits born under the right line tend toward keeping what is sacred in seclusion. The third line is the work of Kabbalah: to create a place where these opposing orientations of human consciousness can meet and unify.

The right line asks what the purpose of my spirit is; the left asks what the Creator wants. Neither is sufficient alone, and both need to arrive at the same purpose, which is the third line. Our current period is defined by third-line spirits, and this generation will determine the fate of this planet.

Intellectual and scientific frameworks do not provide a true way of living, and religious life as understood until now is not giving true answers either. Shattering is necessary for the third line to emerge. This is an unstable epoch that cannot hold onto existing religious patterns, yet the generation living through it adapts quickly even under deep and shattering changes.

What is required is a consciousness and a study of how to receive the light in a way that unifies with the plan, and that is Kabbalah, the path of the third line. Future generations will find this Kabbalistic language entirely natural, without the struggle it requires today. The model is not the Western appropriation of Eastern spirituality, but the way transmigration and the spiritual world are spoken of in Korean and Chinese culture as an ordinary present reality, part of daily concerns that move and shape life. That integration of the spiritual world into lived existence is the direction this generation is moving toward.

This study explores the spiritual dynamics of left, right, and their transformation through Binah's influence. Initially, there is no differentiation between left and right until Binah extends itself, awakening the point in the heart. Binah enables discernment, revealing the will to receive for oneself, which draws light. However, the law of creation dictates that self-serving reception of light is not aligned with higher principles, causing the light to ascend, leaving behind a greater desire.

This process evolves as one learns to redirect the will to receive with the right intention. Instead of simply pulling light, it is used as a medium to express need to the Creator, transforming the act into joy, akin to a prayer. The left's nature shifts from pulling to transmitting, while the right transitions from seeking closeness to the light for self-benefit to bestowing goodness to others, aligning with the Creator’s intent.

The third column emerges as a synthesis of these transformations, where the perception of light and its intention, the right, becomes the guiding force, creating a new reality and perception. This process unfolds like a DNA spiral, with each stage serving as a meeting point and a leap to the next level of spiritual growth.