Bhante Sujiva and these insight stages keep haunting my sits like I’m secretly checking progress instead of paying attention. It is just past 2 a.m., and I am caught in that restless wakefulness where the body craves sleep but the consciousness is preoccupied with an internal census. The fan hums on its lowest setting, its repetitive click marking the time in the silence. I notice a stiffness in my left ankle and adjust it reflexively, only to immediately analyze the movement and its impact on my practice. This is the loop I am in tonight.
The Map is Not the Territory
Bhante Sujiva drifts into my thoughts when I start mentally scanning myself for signs. The vocabulary of the path—Vipassanā Ñāṇas, stages, and spiritual maps—fills my head.
These concepts form an internal checklist that I feel an unearned obligation to fulfill. I claim to be beyond "stage-chasing," yet minutes later I am evaluating a sensation as a potential milestone.
For a few seconds, the practice felt clear: sensations were sharp, fast-paced, and almost strobe-like. My mind immediately jumped in like, "oh, this could be that stage." Or at least close. Maybe adjacent. The narrative destroyed the presence immediately—or perhaps the narrative is the drama I'm creating. Once the mind starts telling a story about the sit, the actual experience vanishes.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
My chest feels tight now. Not anxiety exactly. More like anticipation that went nowhere. I notice my breathing is uneven. Short inhale, longer exhale. I don’t adjust it. I am exhausted by the constant need for correction. The mind keeps looping through phrases I’ve read, heard, underlined.
The stage of Arising and Passing.
The experience of Dissolution.
Fear, Misery, and the Desire for Deliverance.
These labels feel like a collection of items rather than a lived reality—like I'm gathering cards rather than just being here.
The Dangerous Precision of Bhante Sujiva
I am struck by Bhante Sujiva’s precise explanations; they are simultaneously a guide and a trap. It helps by providing a map for the terrain of the mind. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. I am constantly asking: "Is this genuine wisdom or mere agitation? Is this true balance or just a lack of interest?" I recognize the absurdity of this analytical habit, yet I cannot seem to quit.
My right knee aches again. Same spot as yesterday. I focus on it. I note the somatic data, but then the mind asks: "Is this the 'Fear' stage? Is this 'Misery'?" I nearly chuckle to myself; the physical form is indifferent to the map—it simply experiences the pain. For a brief moment, that humor creates space, until the mind returns to scrutinize the laughter itself.
The Exhaustion of the Report Card
I recall Bhante Sujiva’s advice to avoid attachment to the maps and to allow the path to reveal itself. It sounds perfectly logical in theory. Then I come here, alone, late at night, and immediately start measuring myself against an invisible ruler. Deep-seated patterns are difficult to break, particularly when they are disguised as "practice."
I focus on the subtle ringing in my ears and instantly think: "My concentration must be getting sharper." I roll my eyes at myself. This is exhausting. I just want to sit without turning it into a report card.
The fan continues its rhythm. My foot becomes numb, then begins to tingle. I remain still—or at least I intend to. I catch a part of my mind negotiating the moment I will finally shift. I observe the intent but refuse to give it a name. I'm done with the "noting" for now; the words feel too heavy in this silence.
The maps of insight are simultaneously a relief and a burden. Like knowing there’s a path but also knowing exactly how far you might still have to walk. The maps were meant to be helpful guides, not 2 a.m. interrogation tools, but I am using them for the latter anyway.
I don’t reach clarity tonight. I don’t place myself anywhere on the map. The sensations more info keep changing. The thoughts keep checking. The body keeps sitting. Deep down, there is just simple awareness, however messy and full of comparison it might be. I am staying with this imperfect moment, because it is the only thing that is actually real, no matter what stage I'm supposed to be in.