Bhante Sujiva and these insight stages keep haunting my sits like I’m secretly checking progress instead of paying attention. It’s 2:03 a.m. and I’m awake for no good reason. The kind of awake where the body’s tired but the mind’s doing inventory. A low-speed fan clicks rhythmically, serving as a mechanical reminder of the passing seconds. 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 tell myself I’m not chasing stages. Then five minutes later I’m like, "okay but that felt like something, right?"
Earlier in the sit there was this brief clarity. Very brief. Sensations sharp, fast, almost flickering. The ego wasted no time, attempting to label the experience: "Is this Arising and Passing away? Is it close?" The narrative destroyed the presence immediately—or perhaps the narrative is the drama I'm creating. Reality becomes elusive the moment the internal dialogue begins.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
My chest feels tight now. Not anxiety exactly. More like anticipation that went nowhere. My breathing is irregular, with a brief inhalation followed by a protracted exhalation, but I refuse to manipulate it. I’m tired of adjusting things tonight. My consciousness is stuck on a loop of memorized and highlighted spiritual phrases.
Knowledge of arising and passing.
The experience of Dissolution.
The Dukkha-ñāṇas: Fear, Misery, and the urge to escape.
These labels feel like a collection of items rather than a lived reality—like I'm gathering website cards rather than just being here.
The Dangerous Precision of Bhante Sujiva
Bhante Sujiva’s clarity is what gets me. The way he lays things out so cleanly. It’s helpful. And dangerous. Helpful because it gives language to experience. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. Is this insight or just restlessness? Is this boredom or equanimity-lite? I recognize the absurdity of this analytical habit, yet I cannot seem to quit.
The pain in my right knee has returned in the exact same location. I direct my attention there. 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. The laughter provides a temporary release, before the internal auditor starts questioning the "equanimity" of the laugh.
The Exhaustion of the Report Card
I remember his words about the danger of clinging to the stages and the importance of natural progression. It sounds perfectly logical in theory. Yet, in the solitude of the night, I instinctively begin to evaluate myself with a hidden yardstick. Deep-seated patterns are difficult to break, particularly when they are disguised as "practice."
I hear a constant hum in my ears; upon noticing it, I immediately conclude that my sensory sensitivity is heightened. I find my own behavior tiresome; I crave a sit that isn't a performance or a test.
The fan continues its rhythm. My foot becomes numb, then begins to tingle. I remain still—or at least I intend to. I see the mind already plotting the "exit strategy" from the pain, but I don't apply a technical note to it. I am refusing to use technical notes this evening; they feel like an unnecessary weight.
The Vipassanā Ñāṇas offer both a sense of direction and a sense of pressure. 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.
No grand insight arrives, and I decline to "pin" myself to a specific stage on the map. The feelings come and go, the mind checks the progress, and the body just sits there. Beneath the noise, a flawed awareness persists, messy and interwoven with uncertainty and desire. I remain present with this reality, not as a "milestone," but because it is the only truth I have, regardless of the map.