The expulsion from Eden marks a profound rupture in the harmony between humanity and nature. Instead of a reality where food is abundant and effortless, humanity must now confront a hostile earth and a material existence that demands constant toil. The primary approach among commentators is that this curse manifests in the loss of spontaneous, edible growth. If a person simply waits for the ground to produce on its own or avoids manual labor, the earth will yield only useless wild plants [שד״ל, ביאור שטיינזלץ, קאסוטו]. This agricultural frustration is so severe that even when high-quality seeds and garden vegetables are planted, the soil will sprout harmful weeds among them to damage the crop [רד״ק, מזרחי, רש״י, גור אריה].
The specific nature of these invasive plants is understood in various ways. Some explain that one type refers to a large plant, while the other is a smaller weed that typically grows alone [אבן עזרא]. Another perspective suggests that one plant represents rejection and stinging, while the other clings to a person and hinders their movement [רש״ר הירש]. Yet, these thorny growths are not entirely devoid of purpose. Some are bitter herbs that can actually be eaten after the effort of boiling and preparation [רש״י, לבוש האורה, שפתי חכמים]. Additionally, these prickly plants can now be utilized to build fences, protecting the hard-earned harvest from wild animals [חזקוני].
As a direct consequence of the distance from Eden, the human diet undergoes a drastic shift. Rather than enjoying the readily available, sweet fruits of the trees, sustenance is now based on the herbs and produce of the field [רד״ק, קאסוטו]. While this includes the grains used to make bread, consuming them requires a long, exhausting process of threshing and grinding to separate the waste from the edible food, standing in stark contrast to the effortless fruits of the garden [אבן עזרא, מלבי״ם]. Often, despite all this labor, a person may still be forced to settle for basic field grasses against their will [רש״י, מזרחי].
This dietary shift carries a deep psychological and spiritual weight. Before the first sin, humans consumed choice foods while wild animals ate grass. Because humanity chased after physical desires and fell into sin, they were brought down to the level of animals, condemned to consume similar food [ביאור יש״ר, תולדות יצחק]. This stark comparison caused the first man to weep in great sorrow. He was only comforted when he later learned he would eat bread, a food unique to humans, which calmed his fear of eating from the same trough as a donkey [תורה תמימה].
Ultimately, this new diet and the exhausting labor required to attain it are meant to humble the human heart, serving as a process of physical and spiritual purification [אדרת אליהו]. Hidden within the curse is a master plan for correction. The grueling work of plowing, planting, and separating grain from thorns acts as a metaphor for the internal work required in the world: separating good from evil, and cultivating the patience needed to refine oneself and the surrounding reality [חומש קה״ת]. Interestingly, from a historical perspective, humanity has managed to largely overcome this curse over the centuries, as modern agriculture allows for seeds to be grown without the constant intrusion of thorns [ברכת אשר על התורה].