Upādāna: Clinging
Clinging is the hand that closes and will not open. Every vineyard planted and every measure of silver has hardened into "my labour," the fingers gripping so tightly that another's rule over the harvest already lands like a wound. The ache rises from the grip itself, from a hand that will have to be pried loose because it never once practiced letting the fruit go.
Māna: Conceit
Conceit is the mind forever measuring itself against others. Having "shown myself wise" turned ordinary skill into a trophy stamped with "I," so the sharpest cut is picturing a plain fool seated where the wise man sat, ruling the estate he built. Sort the world into wise and foolish, set yourself among the wise, and a fool's inheritance becomes a blow you were always going to feel.
Maraṇasati: Mindfulness of death
Mindfulness of death keeps one's own ending steadily in view. A successor comes to "have rule over all my labour" for a single reason: the man who laboured will lie in the ground while his vineyards ripen on without him. Standing over a life's work as the heir already reaches for it, the Teacher recollects his own death against his will, forced into the practice that steadier minds take up freely.
Anattā: Not-self
Not-self means that whatever refuses your command was never fully your own. He would order "let my heir be wise, let him be no fool," and the years hand back their flat "who knows." He imagined he held rule over his labour, yet he cannot rule the one thing that settles its whole fate, whether a wise or a foolish hand takes it up next.
Anicca: Impermanence
Impermanence is the passing of everything that was ever put together. "Vanity" here carries the older sense of vapor, the breath you see on a cold morning that thins away before you finish looking, and the whole estate of house and vineyard is drifting off the same way, only slower. Labour under the sun, and the sun that swells the grape is the very sun that shrivels it to a raisin.