Kabbalah, the Jewish mystical tradition, talks about something similar happening on a cosmic scale, through a concept called tzimtzum, or constriction. And after this initial constriction, there's another one! It’s this “second constriction” that really shakes things up, and that’s what we're diving into.

Now, to understand this, we need to talk about the sefirot. Think of them as divine attributes, or emanations, through which God manifests in the world. We’re talking about Keter (Crown), Ḥokhma (Wisdom), Bina (Understanding), Tiferet (Beauty), and Malkhut (Kingdom). Each level of reality, in Kabbalistic thought, is built from these five sefirot.

So, what happens after this second constriction? Well, imagine Malkhut, which is usually the end of a level, suddenly decides to move upwards, connecting with Bina. It's like the foundation shifting and attaching itself to a higher story of the building. This upward movement effectively pushes the "end" of that level higher, specifically placing it under Ḥokhma, nestled within Bina.

What's the result? According to the Sulam Commentary, this movement essentially ejects the lower vessels – Bina, Tiferet, and Malkhut – from that particular level, "negating" them from their previous placement (we'll explore this "negation" further in section 17). So, from this point on, every level is left with just two vessels: Keter and Ḥokhma, along with two corresponding lights – Nefesh (Soul) and Ruach (Spirit).

But here’s the twist! This applies only when we're talking about the vessels, the containers. When it comes to the lights themselves, it’s actually the reverse! The lights of Nefesh and Ruach remain within the level, while the higher lights – Neshamah (Breath), Ḥayah (Life), and Yeḥidah (Singularity) – are negated, or withdrawn, from that level.

It's a complex dance, isn't it? A constant ebb and flow between vessel and light, between presence and absence. What does it all mean? Perhaps it suggests that even in divine realms, there are shifts and changes, withdrawals and unveilings. Just like in our own lives, sometimes we have to let go of what we think we know, of what we thought defined us, in order to make space for something new, something higher, to emerge. And isn't that a beautiful, if slightly unsettling, thought?