Ecclesiastes 5:16 Meaning This Also Is a Grievous Evil

Taṇhā: Craving Craving is the thirst that keeps the hands working. Full of silver, they still reach, and that reaching is what turns a life's work into labor for the wind. Profit, in the way he uses the word, would be the hour when enough arrives; thirst is built so the hour keeps sliding forward, one more harvest, one more field.

Anicca: Impermanence Everything that gathers also scatters. Coming and going are the same door here, and the naked entry has already set the terms of the exit, so whatever piles up between them belongs only to the middle. A full barn is borrowed from the moment it is filled, which is why the account closes at zero in all points.

Maraṇassati: Mindfulness of death Keeping one's own death in plain view is a daily practice. Walking through the empty-handed departure now sorts today's work quietly, since the hours poured into what cannot travel start showing their weight. Anyone who pictures the going stops mistaking a storehouse for a destination.

Asāra: Without heartwood Wind has no core to it; a hand closes and comes back empty. Treating the coreless as the solid thing is the mistake underneath the whole exhausting stretch of years, and it is why the reckoning lands as grievous instead of merely disappointing. A log can be tested by cutting into it, and so can a pursuit: ask what part of it survives being carried out the door.

Santuṭṭhi: Contentment Contentment is sufficiency felt with what is already at hand. It weighs nothing at that door, so it is the one holding that leaves intact with its owner, and it pays out during the labor rather than at the end of it. Eating one's own bread and finding it enough stops the chase, and no one has to abandon their trade to do it.