bhante sujiva, insight stages, and the quiet habit of measuring my sits instead of being therebhante sujiva, insight stages, and the quiet habit of measuring my sits instead of being there

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. 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. 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
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.

All those words line up in my head like a checklist I never officially agreed to but somehow feel responsible for completing. I tell myself I’m not chasing stages. Then five minutes later I’m like, "okay but that felt like something, right?"

For a few seconds, the practice felt clear: sensations were sharp, fast-paced, and almost strobe-like. 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. Once the mind starts telling a story about the sit, the actual experience vanishes.

The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
There is a tightness in my heart, a physical echo of an anticipation that failed to deliver. I notice my breathing is uneven. Short inhale, longer exhale. I don’t adjust it. I am exhausted by the constant need for correction. The mind keeps looping through phrases I’ve read, heard, underlined.

The stage of Arising and Passing.

Dissolution.

The "Dark Night" stages of Fear and Misery.

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 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 find a moment of humor in the fact that the body doesn't read the maps; it just feels the ache. For a brief moment, that humor creates space, until the mind returns to scrutinize the laughter click here itself.

The Exhaustion of the Report Card
I remember his words about the danger of clinging to the stages and the importance of natural progression. It sounds perfectly logical in theory. Then I come here, alone, late at night, and immediately start measuring myself against an invisible ruler. It's hard to drop the habit of achievement when you've rebranded it as "spiritual growth."

I hear a constant hum in my ears; upon noticing it, I immediately conclude that my sensory sensitivity is heightened. I find my own behavior tiresome; I crave a sit that isn't a performance or a test.

The fan continues its rhythm. My foot becomes numb, then begins to tingle. I remain 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 the comfort of a roadmap combined with the exhaustion of seeing the long road ahead. The maps were meant to be helpful guides, not 2 a.m. interrogation tools, but I am using them for the latter anyway.

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. Somewhere under all that, there’s still awareness happening, imperfect, tangled up with doubt and wanting and comparison. I remain present with this reality, not as a "milestone," but because it is the only truth I have, regardless of the map.