haunted by bhante sujiva and insight stages, i notice myself tracking progress instead of sensationsbhante sujiva and these insight stages keep haunting my sits, like i’m secretly checking progress again

Bhante Sujiva and these insight stages keep haunting my sits like I’m secretly checking progress instead of paying attention. 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 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
The image of Bhante Sujiva surfaces the moment I begin searching for physical or mental indicators of "progress." 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?"

Earlier in the sit there was this brief clarity. Very brief. Sensations sharp, fast, almost flickering. 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. 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 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. I find myself repeating technical terms I've studied and underlined in books.

The stage of Arising and Passing.

Bhaṅga.

The "Dark Night" stages of Fear and Misery.

These labels feel like a collection of items rather than a lived reality—like I'm gathering cards rather than just being here.

The Dangerous Precision of Bhante Sujiva
I am struck by Bhante Sujiva’s precise explanations; they are simultaneously a guide and a trap. Helpful because it gives language to experience. Dangerous because now every twitch, every mental shift gets evaluated. I am constantly asking: "Is this genuine wisdom or mere agitation? Is this true balance or just a lack of interest?" I recognize the absurdity of this analytical habit, yet more info I cannot seem to quit.

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 nearly chuckle to myself; the physical form is indifferent to the map—it simply experiences the pain. For a brief moment, that humor creates space, until the mind returns to scrutinize the laughter 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. 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. Deep-seated patterns are difficult to break, particularly when they are disguised as "practice."

I focus on the subtle ringing in my ears and instantly think: "My concentration must be getting sharper." 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. 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.

The Vipassanā Ñāṇas offer both a sense of direction and a sense of pressure. Like knowing there’s a path but also knowing exactly how far you might still have to walk. 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 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.