Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, wrestles with this very feeling. And it all starts with light… and its apparent limitations.

We begin with Adam Kadmon, the primordial man, the first partzuf – a divine configuration – in Kabbalistic thought. Imagine this Adam Kadmon completely surrounded by the boundless light of Ein Sof, the Infinite, blessed be He. This light, before anything else existed, filled absolutely everything. No gaps, no shadows, just pure, unadulterated divine presence.

But then came the tzimtzum, the primordial constriction. Think of it as a cosmic contraction, a drawing back of God's infinite light to create space for… well, for everything else. According to Petichah LeChokhmat HaKabbalah, after this initial constriction, a partition was placed on the Malkhut, the vessel of kingship, the last of the ten sefirot (divine emanations).

This partition, this barrier, became a point of collision. The light of Ein Sof, still yearning to fill all, crashed against it. And from this collision, a returning light emerged, drawing the supernal light into the constricted world. This light manifests as the ten sefirot of the head and the ten sefirot of the body within Adam Kadmon, as discussed earlier in this text.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting. This light, drawn forth from Ein Sof into Adam Kadmon, is no longer the all-encompassing, limitless light it once was. It now has… boundaries. A beginning and an end.

Why? Because, as our text explains, this light is "arrested at the entry point of this world." This "below," as it's referred to, is our world, the world where the light isn't fully allowed to penetrate. This stopping point, this "end" of the light, signifies that the supernal light now possesses a limit, a boundary. This limit represents the point where the Creator's light is, in a sense, hidden from us, the inhabitants of this world. A stark contrast to the time before the tzimtzum, when the light knew no bounds.

The text references the mystical concept of the "terminating Malkhut," and even brings in a verse from Zechariah (14:4): "He will set His feet…on the Mount of Olives." The Mount of Olives, in this context, symbolizes Malkhut, the fourth level. Before the "second constriction," this verse was fully realized, but afterward, the "feet" of Adam Kadmon, representing divine illumination, are restricted from fully reaching and illuminating Malkhut. They are held back.

The Sulam, the commentary on the Zohar by Rabbi Yehuda Leib Ashlag, uses this verse to illustrate that Adam Kadmon now possesses a beginning and an end – a head and feet. A defined form, rather than infinite potential.

But here’s the hopeful part: the text hints that in the future, after the process of tikkun (rectification), the "feet" of Adam Kadmon will return to their original place, fully illuminating the "Mount of Olives." The barrier will be lifted.

So, what does this all mean for us? It suggests that the limitations we perceive in the world, the feeling of being held back, are not necessarily permanent. They are part of a cosmic process, a divine drama unfolding. The light is there, waiting, perhaps just beyond a partition. And perhaps, through our own acts of tikkun, we can help to draw that light back into our world, a world desperately in need of its illumination.