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 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’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.
These concepts form an internal checklist that I feel an unearned obligation to fulfill. I tell myself I’m not chasing stages. Then five minutes later I’m like, "okay but that felt like something, right?"
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. 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 am aware of my uneven breath, yet I have no desire to "fix" it tonight. I’m tired of adjusting things tonight. My consciousness is stuck on a loop of memorized and highlighted spiritual phrases.
Knowledge of arising and passing.
Bhaṅga.
Fear, Misery, and the Desire for Deliverance.
I resent how accessible these labels are; it feels more like amassing "spiritual assets" than actually practicing.
The Dangerous Precision of Bhante Sujiva
The crystalline clarity of Bhante Sujiva’s teaching is both a blessing and a burden. It is beneficial as it provides a vocabulary for the wordless. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. Is this insight or just restlessness? Is this boredom or equanimity-lite? I am aware of how ridiculous this "spiritual accounting" is, but the habit persists.
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. For a brief moment, that humor creates space, until the mind returns to scrutinize the laughter itself.
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. 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 am sick of my own internal grading system; I just want to be present without the "report card."
The fan continues its rhythm. My foot becomes numb, then begins to tingle. I remain more info 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'm done with the "noting" for now; the words feel too heavy in this silence.
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. 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. 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.