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 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
I think of Bhante Sujiva whenever I find myself scanning my experience for symptoms of a specific stage. Progress of insight. Vipassanā ñāṇas. Stages. Maps.
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?"
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. Everything feels slippery once the mind starts narrating.
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’m tired of adjusting things tonight. The mind keeps looping through phrases I’ve read, heard, underlined.
Knowledge of arising and passing.
Dissolution.
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
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. 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 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 almost laugh. Out loud, but quietly. The body doesn’t care what stage it’s in. It just hurts. That laughter loosens something for a second. Then the mind rushes back in to analyze the laughter.
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.
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 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 maps of insight are simultaneously a relief and a burden. 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 click here on the map. The sensations keep changing. The thoughts keep checking. The body keeps sitting. Somewhere under all that, there’s still awareness happening, imperfect, tangled up with doubt and wanting and comparison. I am staying with this imperfect moment, because it is the only thing that is actually real, no matter what stage I'm supposed to be in.