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. The fan’s on low, clicking every few seconds like it’s reminding me time exists. My left ankle feels stiff. I rotate it without thinking. Then I realize I moved. Then I wonder if that mattered. That’s how tonight’s going.
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 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. 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
There is a tightness in my heart, a physical echo of an anticipation that failed to deliver. I am aware of my uneven breath, yet I have no desire to "fix" it tonight. I am exhausted by the constant need for correction. I find myself repeating technical terms I've studied and underlined in books.
The stage 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. Helpful because it gives language to experience. It is perilous because it subjects every minor sensation to an internal audit. I am constantly asking: "Is this genuine wisdom or mere agitation? Is this true balance or just a check here lack of interest?" I recognize the absurdity of this analytical habit, yet I cannot seem to quit.
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. But here I am, in the dark, using an invisible ruler to see "how far" I've gone. Old habits die hard. Especially the ones that feel spiritual.
I hear a constant hum in my ears; upon noticing it, I immediately conclude that my sensory sensitivity is heightened. I roll my eyes at myself. This is exhausting. I just want to sit without turning it into a report card.
The fan clicks again. My foot tingles. Pins and needles creep up slowly. I stay. Or I think I stay. I see the mind already plotting the "exit strategy" from the pain, but I don't apply a technical note to 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. 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. 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.