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. 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
The image of Bhante Sujiva surfaces the moment I begin searching for physical or mental indicators of "progress." 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. 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. Everything feels slippery once the mind starts narrating.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
There is a tightness in my heart, a physical echo of an anticipation that failed to deliver. My breathing is irregular, with a brief inhalation followed by a protracted exhalation, but I refuse to manipulate it. I have lost the will to micro-manage my experience this evening. I find myself repeating technical terms I've studied and underlined in books.
The stage of Arising and Passing.
The experience of 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 becomes a problem when every mental flicker is subjected to a "pass/fail" test. 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. 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 remember his words about the danger of clinging to the stages and the importance of natural progression. It sounds perfectly logical in theory. But here I am, in the dark, using an invisible ruler to see "how far" I've gone. Deep-seated patterns are difficult to break, particularly when they are disguised as "practice."
I focus on the subtle ringing in my ears and instantly think: "My concentration must be getting sharper." 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. 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.
Insight stages here feel both comforting and oppressive. It is the comfort of a roadmap combined with the exhaustion of seeing the long road ahead. 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 feelings come and go, the mind checks the progress, and the body just sits there. Deep down, there is just simple awareness, however messy and full of comparison it might be. 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.