Saṃvega: Urgent Shock at the Way Things Are
Saṃvega is the jolt that turns a person around. Torn robes and a wet face, still fresh when the messengers come back with the answer, are what this whole reply is spoken to; it lands on a man already shaken. Like smelling smoke in the house at night, the shock arrives ahead of the fire and gets you on your feet.
Kamma-vipāka: Deeds Ripening into Fruit
Kamma-vipāka is what comes of what was done. Generations put their seed in the ground long before the young king swept the high places clean, and a harvest keeps its own season; his reforms come too late to stop the fruit from swelling on the branch. The gap between the deed and the ruin is ordinary slowness, which is how a good king ends up standing in a doomed city.
Anicca: Impermanence
Anicca is the passing nature of everything that stands. Being gathered to the fathers sets him in a line reaching back through all the dead and still moving, and the place itself, walls and temple and inhabitants, stands in that same line. Whatever he repaired with his own hands was already on its way out while he repaired it, the way a house needs painting again the year you finish painting it.
Maraṇassati: Keeping Death in View
Maraṇassati is holding your own dying steadily in mind. Here the ending is handed over in advance, the grave named out loud while he is still on the throne with work in his hands. Like a diagnosis that comes with a number of years attached, the news does not end the work; it sorts out which work is worth the time left.
Santi: Peace as Cooling
Santi is the coolness left when the burning stops. Peace in that grave is measured by what the eyes are spared, the fever going down before the fire ever reaches the walls. The word reaches past a quiet funeral toward a lamp going out when the oil is gone: no smoke, no struggle, simply no longer burning.