It is 1:56 a.m., and the atmosphere in my room is slightly too stagnant despite the window being cracked open. I can detect the faint, earthy aroma of wet pavement from a distant downpour. There is a dull, persistent ache in my lower spine. I am caught in a cycle of adjusting and re-adjusting, still under the misguided impression that I can find a spot that doesn't hurt. It is a myth. Or if it does exist, I have never managed to inhabit it for more than a few fleeting moments.
My consciousness keeps running these technical comparisons like an internal debate society that refuses to adjourn. Mahasi. Goenka. Pa Auk. Noting. Breath. Samatha. Vipassana. I feel like I am toggling through different spiritual software, hoping one of them will finally crash the rest and leave me in peace. I find this method-shopping at 2 a.m. to be both irritating and deeply humbling. I pretend to be above the "search," but in reality, I am still comparing "products" in the middle of the night instead of doing the work.
Earlier this evening, I made an effort to stay with the simple sensation of breathing. A task that is ostensibly simple. Then my mind intervened with an interrogation: are you watching it Mahasi-style or more like traditional anapanasati? Are you missing a detail? Is the mind dull? Should you be noting this sensation right now? It is more than just a thought; it is an aggressive line of questioning. I found my teeth grinding together before I was even aware of the stress. Once I recognized the tension, the "teacher" in my head had already won.
I think back to my time in the Goenka tradition, where the rigid environment provided such a strong container. The lack of choice was a relief. I didn't have to think; I only had to follow the pre-recorded voice. There was a profound security in that lack of autonomy. And then I recall sitting alone months later, without the retreat's support, and suddenly all the doubts arrived like they had been waiting in the shadows. The technical depth of the Pa Auk method crossed my mind, making my own wandering mind feel like I was somehow failing. I felt like I was being lazy, even in the privacy of my own room.
Interestingly, when I manage to actually stay present, the need to "pick a side" evaporates. Only for a moment, but it is real. There is a flash of time where the knee pain is just heat and pressure. Warmth in the joint. The weight of the body on the cushion. The high-pitched sound of a bug nearby. Then the internal librarian rushes in to file the experience under the "correct" technical heading. It would be funny if it weren't so frustrating.
My phone buzzed earlier with a random notification. I resisted the urge to look, which felt like progress, but then I felt stupid for needing that small win. The same egoic loop. Ranking. Measuring. I think about the sheer volume of energy I lose to the fear of practicing incorrectly.
I become aware of a constriction in my breath. I refrain from forcing a deeper breath. I know from experience that trying to manufacture peace only creates more stress. I hear the fan cycle through its mechanical clicks. I find read more the sound disproportionately annoying. I note the "irritation," then realize I am just performing the Mahasi method for an invisible audience. Then I quit the noting process out of pure stubbornness. Then I lose my focus completely.
Mahasi versus Goenka versus Pa Auk feels less like a genuine inquiry and more like a way for my mind to stay busy. If it keeps comparing, it doesn't have to sit still with the discomfort of uncertainty. Or with the possibility that none of these systems will save me from the slow, daily grind of actually being here.
My lower limbs have gone numb and are now prickling. I let it happen. Or I try to. There is a deep, instinctive push to change my position. I start bargaining with myself. Five more breaths. Then maybe I will shift. The negotiation fails before the third breath. So be it.
I don't feel resolved. I am not "awakened." I feel profoundly ordinary. Confused. Slightly tired. Still showing up. The "Mahasi vs. Goenka" thoughts are still there, but they no longer have the power to derail the sit. I make no effort to find a winner. I don’t need to. Currently, it is sufficient to observe that this is the mind's natural reaction to silence.