Pamāda: Heedlessness
Heedlessness is the slack between knowing a thing and moving on it. Lot has heard the warning through the night, watched his sons-in-law laugh him off, and still his feet stay in the doorway while the sky lightens. Nobody lingers because they doubt the fire; they linger because there is one more room to look at first.
Upādāna: Clinging
Clinging is a grip that doubles as fuel. His hands are already full of a house, a trade, a standing among neighbors, which is why four hands have to be taken hold of before anyone moves at all. A hand closed on the doorpost cannot take the road.
Saṃvega: Urgent alarm
Alarm is the jolt that turns a warning into running. He has the news and none of the shock, so the messengers supply it from outside, walking him at the speed his own fear should have set. The alarm that saves anyone has to come before the fire, not with it.
Kalyāṇamitta: Good friend
A good friend is one whose company moves you toward what is good for you. Two strangers taken in for a night end the night taking a wrist and pulling; there is no argument in the help, only a grip and a direction. Much of the path arrives exactly this way, by somebody else's hand on yours when your own judgment has stalled.
Karuṇā: Compassion
Compassion is the wish to lift another out of harm. Mercy here has hands, arrives at daybreak, and does the plain work of hauling a stalling man past the gate. The rescue runs ahead of his readiness and well ahead of his deserving.
Nekkhamma: Renunciation
Renunciation is leaving home. Set down outside the walls with his family and the clothes he stands in, Lot has everything a going forth has, minus the choosing. Leaving is sometimes a decision and sometimes a pair of hands on your arm, and the ground outside the city is the same either way.