Ecclesiastes 12:5 Meaning Yes

A person afraid of that which is high is a mind that will not climb to the higher consciousness, and the fears in the way are the burdens that block the inner path. The almond tree flourishing is Amen, the old sun-god awake in the amygdala, the deep almond-shaped centers of the head lighting up as the higher power stirs. The grasshopper made a burden is anxiety over small things grown heavy enough to weigh a person down, and desire failing is the lower craving losing its grip.

The streets are the higher inner pathway to God, and the mourners going about them are the scattered lower faculties grieving because the old self is being left behind. The long home is not the grave but the return of consciousness to its true seat, the awakening a fearful mind keeps refusing.

Almond tree: Amen the sun-god waking in the amygdala, the almond centers of the head Grasshopper: anxiety over small things grown heavy enough to weigh a person down Street: the higher inner pathway to God within a person

Jarā: Aging Jarā is the body's slow wearing down. The almond breaks into white bloom on a head that used to be dark, and the grasshopper that once sprang off a stem now drags itself through the grass. Joints stiffen like a hinge left out in the rain, and the man who climbed roofs without thinking is the one now counting each stair.

Bhāra: The burden Bhāra names body and mind as a load a person carries. A grasshopper weighs almost nothing, so when even that sits heavy on the shoulders, the body has stopped carrying its owner and become the sack he hauls. The load can be set down, though only all the way once craving lets go of the strap.

Virāga: The fading of desire Virāga is desire losing its grip. Appetite gives out in old age because the body can no longer answer it, so decay ends up doing the work that clear seeing should have done years earlier. Arrive at the same quiet while the teeth are still sound and it comes as freedom instead of loss.

Maraṇassati: Keeping death in view Maraṇassati is holding your own death steadily in mind. Calling the grave a home makes dying into arrival at an address already assigned to you, and the warning is set deliberately before a young man whose legs are still strong enough to climb. Held daily it stops being morbid and becomes plain fact, like knowing the sun will set.

Devadūta: The divine messengers Devadūta are the sights of age, sickness and death arriving as warnings. Mourners circling the streets are not there for the dead man, who is well past hearing them, but for everyone standing in a doorway watching them go by. Every funeral in the neighborhood is a message with your own name on it, and most people file it away unopened.

Saṃvega: Urgency Saṃvega is the jolt that mortality delivers to someone paying attention. Terrors waiting on the road and the dread of high places can shrink a life down to one room, or that same fear can be picked up and put to use. Smelling smoke in the house at night, you do not lie there studying the fear, you get up and move.