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’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
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.
I feel burdened by a spiritual "to-do list" of stages that I never actually signed up for. 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. The ego wasted no time, attempting to label the experience: "Is this Arising and Passing away? Is it close?" That commentary ruined it instantly. Or maybe it didn’t ruin anything and I’m just dramatizing. Everything feels slippery once the mind starts narrating.
The Pokémon Cards of the Dhamma
My chest feels tight now. Not anxiety exactly. More like anticipation that went nowhere. I notice my breathing is uneven. Short inhale, longer exhale. I don’t adjust it. I’m tired of adjusting things tonight. The mind keeps looping through phrases I’ve read, heard, underlined.
Insight into Udayabbaya.
The experience of Dissolution.
The Dukkha-ñāṇas: Fear, Misery, and the urge to escape.
I resent how accessible these labels are; it feels more like amassing "spiritual assets" than actually practicing.
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 by providing a map for the terrain of the mind. It is perilous because it subjects every minor sensation to an internal audit. I am constantly more info asking: "Is this genuine wisdom or mere agitation? Is this true balance or just a lack of interest?" I feel ridiculous thinking this way and also unable to stop.
My knee is throbbing again, right where it was last night. I observe the heat and pressure. Heat. Pressure. Throbbing. Then the thought pops up: pain stage? Dark night? I find a moment of humor in the fact that the body doesn't read the maps; it just feels the ache. The laughter provides a temporary release, before the internal auditor starts questioning the "equanimity" of the laugh.
The Exhaustion of the Report Card
I recall Bhante Sujiva’s advice to avoid attachment to the maps and to allow the path to reveal itself. 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. 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 am sick of my own internal grading system; I just want to be present without the "report card."
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 don’t want to label anything right now. Labels feel heavy tonight.
Insight stages feel both comforting and oppressive. It is like having a map that tells you exactly how much further you have to travel. I doubt Bhante Sujiva intended for these teachings to become a source of late-night self-criticism, yet that is my reality.
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 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.