Bhante Sujiva and these insight stages keep haunting my sits like I’m secretly checking progress instead of paying attention. The clock reads 2:03 a.m., and I am wide awake without cause—that specific state where the physical body is exhausted but the mind is busy calculating. The fan hums on its lowest setting, its repetitive click marking the time in the silence. My ankle is tight; I move it, then catch myself moving, then start a mental debate about whether that movement "counts" against my stillness.
The Map is Not the Territory
The image of Bhante Sujiva surfaces the moment I begin searching for physical or mental indicators of "progress." Progress of insight. Vipassanā ñāṇas. Stages. Maps.
All those words line up in my head like a checklist I never officially agreed to but somehow feel responsible for completing. I tell myself I’m not chasing stages. Then five minutes later I’m like, "okay but that felt like something, right?"
For a few seconds, the practice felt clear: sensations were sharp, fast-paced, and almost strobe-like. The ego wasted no time, attempting to label the experience: "Is this Arising and Passing away? Is it close?" The internal play-by-play broke the flow, or perhaps I am simply overthinking the interruption. Everything feels slippery once the mind starts narrating.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
I feel a constriction in my chest—not quite anxiety, but a sense of unfulfilled expectation. I notice my breathing is uneven. Short inhale, longer exhale. I don’t adjust 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.
Dissolution.
The "Dark Night" stages of Fear and Misery.
I hate how familiar those labels feel. Like I’m collecting Pokémon cards instead of actually sitting.
The Dangerous Precision of Bhante Sujiva
The crystalline clarity of Bhante Sujiva’s teaching is both a blessing and a burden. Helpful because it gives language to experience. It is perilous because it subjects every minor sensation to an internal audit. I am constantly asking: "Is this genuine wisdom or mere agitation? Is this true balance or just a lack of interest?" I am aware of how ridiculous this "spiritual accounting" is, but the habit persists.
My knee is throbbing again, right where it was last night. I observe the heat and pressure. Warmth, compression, and pulsing—immediately followed by the thought: "Is this a Dukkha stage? Is this the Dark Night?" I almost laugh. Out loud, but quietly. The body doesn’t care what stage it’s in. It just hurts. The laughter provides a temporary release, before the internal auditor starts questioning the "equanimity" of the laugh.
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. Yet, in the solitude of the Bhante Sujiva night, I instinctively begin to evaluate myself with a hidden yardstick. Old habits die hard. Especially the ones that feel spiritual.
There’s a hum in my ears. Always there if I listen. I listen. Then I think, "oh, noticing subtle sound, that’s a sign of sensitivity increasing." I find my own behavior tiresome; I crave a sit that isn't a performance or a test.
Another click of the fan. The "static" of pins and needles fills my foot. I choose to stay. 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. It is the comfort of a roadmap combined with the exhaustion of seeing the long road ahead. I doubt Bhante Sujiva intended for these teachings to become a source of late-night self-criticism, yet that is my reality.
Resolution remains out of reach, and I refuse to categorize my position on the spiritual path. The somatic data fluctuates, the mind continues its audit, and the physical form remains on the cushion. Beneath the noise, a flawed awareness persists, messy and interwoven with uncertainty and desire. I stay with that, not because it feels advanced, but because it’s what’s actually here, right now, no matter what stage I wish it was.