I find that Bhante Sujiva’s maps and the stages of insight follow me into my meditation, making me feel as though I am constantly auditing my progress rather than simply being present. 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. I am flooded with technical terms: the Progress of Insight, the various Ñāṇas, the developmental maps.
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."
I experienced a momentary window of clarity—extremely short-lived—where sensations felt distinct, rapid, and vibrating. Instantly, the mind intervened, trying to categorize the experience as a specific insight stage or something near it. That commentary ruined it instantly. Or maybe it didn’t ruin anything and I’m just dramatizing. 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 notice my breathing is uneven. Short inhale, longer exhale. I don’t adjust it. I am exhausted by the constant need for correction. My consciousness is stuck on a loop of memorized and highlighted spiritual phrases.
Insight into Udayabbaya.
Dissolution.
The Dukkha-ñāṇas: Fear, Misery, and the urge to escape.
I hate how familiar those labels feel. Like I’m collecting Pokémon cards instead of actually sitting.
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 is beneficial as it provides a vocabulary for the wordless. It is perilous because it subjects every minor sensation to an internal audit. 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. Heat. Pressure. Throbbing. Then the thought pops up: pain stage? Dark night? I almost laugh. Out loud, but quietly. The body doesn’t care what stage it’s in. It just hurts. That laughter loosens something for a second. Then the mind rushes back in to analyze the laughter.
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. Then I come here, alone, late at night, and immediately start measuring myself against an invisible ruler. It's hard to drop the habit of achievement when you've rebranded it as "spiritual growth."
There’s a more info 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.
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 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 like having a map that tells you exactly how much further you have to travel. 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.
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. 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.