Bhante Sujiva and these insight stages keep haunting my sits like I’m secretly checking progress instead of paying attention. 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. The fan’s on low, clicking every few seconds like it’s reminding me time exists. My ankle is tight; I move it, then catch myself moving, then start a mental debate about whether that movement "counts" against my stillness.
The Map is Not the Territory
I think of Bhante Sujiva whenever I find myself scanning my experience for symptoms of a specific stage. 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 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. My mind immediately jumped in like, "oh, this could be that stage." Or at least close. Maybe adjacent. The narrative destroyed the presence immediately—or perhaps the narrative is the drama I'm creating. Once the mind starts telling a story about the sit, the actual experience vanishes.
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 am exhausted by the constant need for correction. The mind keeps looping through phrases I’ve read, heard, underlined.
Knowledge of arising and passing.
Dissolution.
Fear, Misery, and the Desire for Deliverance.
I hate how familiar those labels feel. Like I’m collecting Pokémon cards instead of actually sitting.
The Dangerous Precision more info of Bhante Sujiva
I am struck by Bhante Sujiva’s precise explanations; they are simultaneously a guide and a trap. It helps by providing a map for the terrain of the mind. It becomes a problem when every mental flicker is subjected to a "pass/fail" test. 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 almost laugh. Out loud, but quietly. The body doesn’t care what stage it’s in. It just hurts. 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. Yet, in the solitude of the night, I instinctively begin to evaluate myself with a hidden yardstick. 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 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. 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. 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 feelings come and go, the mind checks the progress, and the body just sits there. Beneath the noise, a flawed awareness persists, messy and interwoven with uncertainty and desire. I remain present with this reality, not as a "milestone," but because it is the only truth I have, regardless of the map.