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’s on low, clicking every few seconds like it’s reminding me time exists. 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
I think of Bhante Sujiva whenever I find myself scanning my experience for symptoms of a specific stage. The vocabulary of the path—Vipassanā Ñāṇas, stages, and spiritual maps—fills my head.
All those words line up in my head like a checklist I never officially agreed to but somehow feel responsible for completing. I pretend to be disinterested in the maps, but I quickly find myself wondering if a specific feeling was a sign of "something deeper."
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. Everything feels slippery once the mind starts narrating.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
My chest feels tight now. Not anxiety exactly. More like anticipation that went nowhere. I am aware of my uneven breath, yet I have no desire to "fix" it tonight. I am exhausted by the constant need for correction. The mind keeps looping through phrases I’ve read, heard, underlined.
Insight into Udayabbaya.
Bhaṅga.
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
Bhante Sujiva’s clarity is what gets me. The way he lays things out so cleanly. It’s helpful. And dangerous. 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 feel ridiculous thinking this way and also unable to stop.
The pain in my right knee has returned in the exact same location. I direct my attention there. Heat. Pressure. Throbbing. Then the thought pops up: pain stage? Dark night? I nearly chuckle to myself; the physical form is indifferent to the map—it simply experiences the pain. That laughter loosens something for a second. Then the mind rushes back in to analyze the laughter.
The Exhaustion of the Report Card
I remember his words about the danger of clinging to the stages and the importance of natural progression. I nod internally when I read that. Makes sense. Yet, in the solitude of the night, I instinctively begin to evaluate myself with a hidden yardstick. It's hard to drop the habit of achievement when you've rebranded it as "spiritual growth."
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 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 don’t want to label anything right now. Labels feel heavy tonight.
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. Bhante Sujiva didn’t put these maps together so people could torture themselves at 2 a.m., but here I am anyway, doing exactly that.
Resolution remains out of reach, and I refuse to categorize my more info position on the spiritual path. The somatic data fluctuates, the mind continues its audit, and the physical form remains on the cushion. Somewhere under all that, there’s still awareness happening, imperfect, tangled up with doubt and wanting and comparison. I remain present with this reality, not as a "milestone," but because it is the only truth I have, regardless of the map.