The great Kabbalist, Baal HaSulam, in his introduction to the Zohar, dives deep into this very idea, giving us a glimpse into what might have been. He explains that before God even began to create souls, His thought already encompassed everything. He didn't need tools or blueprints like we do.

The moment God had the intention to create, Baal HaSulam says, all the souls burst forth into being. Imagine – not just the souls, but all the future worlds destined to be created, overflowing with goodness, pleasure, and unimaginable tenderness. All of it, pre-ordained in His thought. These worlds, he continues, would eventually lead to the souls' ultimate perfection.

But what is this "ultimate perfection?"

It's when, according to the Zohar (Mishpatim, 51; Zohar Ḥadash, Bereishit, 243), the desire to receive—our inherent selfishness—is completely and utterly transformed into a pure desire to give. A desire to give so complete that our form, our very essence, becomes identical to God's. This, the Zohar tells us, is the ultimate goal.

And here's the mind-bending part: God's eternality contains past, present, and future as one. The future is, for Him, already present. Time, as we experience it, simply doesn't apply.

So, that "defective desire to receive," that sense of separation, the tzura d’peruda? According to Baal HaSulam, it was never actually present in the Ein Sof, the Infinite. Instead, the equation of forms—that state of perfect giving that will be revealed at the end of time—was always present in God's eternal plan.

The sages, in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 73, put it this way: "Prior to creation, He was one and His name was one." This means that the differentiated form of the desire to receive was not revealed in the reality of the souls as they emerged from creation's plan. Instead, they clung to God through the equation of forms, the secret of "He and His name are one." Baal HaSulam himself refers to this concept in his Talmud Eser HaSefirot, Part 1, if you'd like to delve deeper.

It's a radical idea, isn't it? That our imperfections, our struggles, are not a fundamental part of God's plan, but rather a temporary state on the path to ultimate unity. That, in God's eyes, the future perfect state of giving is as real and present as this very moment.

What does this mean for us, then? Perhaps it means that even in our most flawed moments, we are already connected to that future perfection. Perhaps it means that the potential for complete giving, for unity with the Divine, is always within us, waiting to be revealed.

It’s a lot to take in, I know. But it’s a beautiful and hopeful vision, one that reminds us that even in the midst of our imperfections, we are already part of something perfect and eternal.