Taṇhā: Craving
Craving is the thirst that leans toward what is not here yet. Sniffing the wind is exactly its posture: nothing in the mouth, everything in the nostrils, the whole animal drawn forward by a scent on the air. The chasing after other gods works the same way, wanting the next thing so steadily that the wanting itself becomes the direction of travel.
Kāmarāga: Sensual lust
Sensual lust is passion for what the senses can reach. Being in heat says it without euphemism: a fever in the body that sets its own schedule and burns while the fuel lasts. The Buddha's word for a mind in that state is aflame, and fire asks no permission before it spreads.
Anusaya: Underlying tendency
An underlying tendency lies dormant and wakes when conditions suit it. "In her month" is that timing exactly: the drive was lying beneath the surface long before the day it showed, waiting only for the season to reach it. Embers under ash look cold until a little wind gets to them.
Indriyasaṃvara: Guarding the sense doors
Guarding the sense doors means watching what arrives at eye, ear, and nose before it takes hold. The donkey's whole method runs the other way: nostrils open to the desert, taking in every message the wind carries and acting on all of it. A door left standing open lets in whoever happens to walk past.
Dama: Self-taming
Taming is the training a person gives their own mind. "Who can turn her away" is the honest answer for an animal with no bridle on it: no one outside can, and no one inside is holding the reins either. A trained horse turns at the lightest touch, and that training was done long before the moment it was needed.
Saṃsāra: Wandering on
Wandering on is the round of becoming that keeps repeating. "Used to the wilderness" is the phrase for it: not lost once, but at home in the wandering, so accustomed to open country that no other life looks possible. The month comes round, the heat comes round, the seekers come round, and the tracks circle back over themselves.