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. 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. 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
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 claim to be beyond "stage-chasing," yet minutes later I am evaluating a sensation as a potential milestone.
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. Reality becomes elusive the moment the internal dialogue begins.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
My chest feels tight now. Not anxiety exactly. More like anticipation that went nowhere. 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.
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
The crystalline clarity of Bhante Sujiva’s teaching is both a blessing and a burden. Helpful because it gives language to experience. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. Is this insight or just restlessness? Is this boredom or equanimity-lite? I feel ridiculous thinking this way and also unable to stop.
My right knee aches again. Same spot as yesterday. I focus on it. I note the somatic data, but then the mind asks: "Is this the 'Fear' stage? Is this 'Misery'?" I nearly chuckle to myself; the physical form is indifferent to the map—it simply experiences the pain. The laughter provides a temporary release, before the internal auditor starts questioning the "equanimity" of the laugh.
The Exhaustion of the Report Card
I remember reading Bhante Sujiva saying something about not clinging to stages, about practice unfolding naturally. 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. more info 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.
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 am refusing to use technical notes this evening; they feel like an unnecessary weight.
Insight stages feel both comforting and oppressive. Like knowing there’s a path but also knowing exactly how far you might still have to walk. The maps were meant to be helpful guides, not 2 a.m. interrogation tools, but I am using them for the latter anyway.
I don’t reach clarity tonight. I don’t place myself anywhere on the map. 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 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.