Bhāra: The Burden
A load carried on the shoulder, the old image for the five heaps of body and mind held as mine. The weight on your shoulder has a name and an army behind it, yet the carrying goes on after every empire falls, since a self gets hauled from place to place. Setting it down is one plain motion, like a laborer dropping a sack in the road and standing up straight.
Taṇhā: Craving
The thirst that reaches out and takes hold, and craving is what lifts a load onto the shoulder to begin with. Assyria strapped this pack on by force, though most of what people carry is picked up gladly and gripped tighter the heavier it gets. A shoulder goes free the moment the hand stops reaching for one more thing to hold.
Yoga: The Yoke
Four harnesses that hitch a being to further becoming: wanting, existing, opinions, and not knowing. A beam of wood across an ox's neck lets someone else choose the direction, which is the position of a mind steered by those four, plodding a circle it never picked. Freedom starts with feeling the beam at all, since an ox that has worn one since it was a calf stops noticing the weight.
Bhāvanā: Cultivation
Growing something into being, the way training is grown in a mind. Oil and fatness are what break this yoke: the neck thickens until the beam that once fit can no longer hold, and nothing had to be smashed. Steady practice works the same way, small and unglamorous day after day, until one morning the old harness simply will not go on.
Yogakkhema: Rest From The Yoke
Safety from the harness, one of the oldest plain names for the goal. In that day the beam lifts off and does not come back, which is the difference between an ox turned out to graze between two loads and one that will never be hitched again. The neck stays bare, and no next Assyria is coming up the road.