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. 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 hums on its lowest setting, its repetitive click marking the time in the silence. 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. 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 claim to be beyond "stage-chasing," yet minutes later I am evaluating a sensation as a potential milestone.
For a few seconds, the practice felt clear: sensations were sharp, fast-paced, and almost strobe-like. My mind immediately jumped in like, "oh, this could be that stage." Or at least close. Maybe adjacent. 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
I feel a constriction in my chest—not quite anxiety, but a sense of unfulfilled expectation. I am aware of my uneven breath, yet I have no desire to "fix" it tonight. I have lost the will to micro-manage my experience this evening. My consciousness is stuck on a loop of memorized and highlighted spiritual phrases.
The stage of Arising and Passing.
Bhaṅga.
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
Bhante Sujiva’s clarity is what gets me. The way he lays things out so cleanly. It’s helpful. And dangerous. It helps website by providing a map for the terrain of the mind. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. I find myself caught in the trap of evaluating: "Is this an insight stage or just a sore back?" I feel ridiculous thinking this way and also unable to stop.
The pain in my right knee has returned in the exact same location. I direct my attention there. Warmth, compression, and pulsing—immediately followed by the thought: "Is this a Dukkha stage? Is this the Dark Night?" 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 his words about the danger of clinging to the stages and the importance of natural progression. 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. Old habits die hard. Especially the ones that feel spiritual.
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.
Another click of the fan. The "static" of pins and needles fills my foot. I choose to 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 am refusing to use technical notes this evening; they feel like an unnecessary weight.
Insight stages feel both comforting and oppressive. It is like having a map that tells you exactly how much further you have to travel. 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 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.