The figure of Bhante Sujiva and the technical stages of Vipassanā often loom over my practice, turning a moment of awareness into a secret search for achievement. 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. The fan’s on low, clicking every few seconds like it’s reminding me time exists. 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.
All those words line up in my head like a checklist I never officially agreed to but somehow feel responsible for completing. I claim to be beyond "stage-chasing," yet minutes later I am evaluating a sensation as a potential milestone.
Earlier in the sit there was this brief clarity. Very brief. Sensations sharp, fast, almost flickering. Instantly, the mind intervened, trying to categorize the experience as a specific insight stage or something near it. The internal play-by-play broke the flow, or perhaps I am simply overthinking the interruption. Once the mind starts telling a story about the sit, the actual experience vanishes.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
I feel a constriction in my chest—not quite anxiety, but a sense of unfulfilled expectation. I am aware of my uneven breath, yet I have no desire to "fix" it tonight. I have lost the will to micro-manage my experience this evening. My consciousness is stuck on a loop of memorized and highlighted spiritual phrases.
The stage 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
I am struck by Bhante Sujiva’s precise explanations; they are simultaneously a guide and a trap. Helpful because it gives language to experience. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. get more info I find myself caught in the trap of evaluating: "Is this an insight stage or just a sore back?" 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. I nod internally when I read that. Makes sense. But here I am, in the dark, using an invisible ruler to see "how far" I've gone. It's hard to drop the habit of achievement when you've rebranded it as "spiritual growth."
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 clicks again. My foot tingles. Pins and needles creep up slowly. I stay. Or I think I stay. Part of me is already planning when I’ll move. I notice that planning. I don’t label it. 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. I doubt Bhante Sujiva intended for these teachings to become a source of late-night self-criticism, yet that is my reality.
No grand insight arrives, and I decline to "pin" myself to a specific stage on the map. The sensations keep changing. The thoughts keep checking. The body keeps sitting. Somewhere under all that, there’s still awareness happening, imperfect, tangled up with doubt and wanting and comparison. 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.