It is 2:18 a.m., and the right knee is screaming in that dull, needy way that is not quite sharp enough to justify moving but loud enough to dismantle any illusion of serenity. The ground seems more unforgiving tonight than it was twenty-four hours ago, a physical impossibility that I nonetheless believe completely. The only break in the silence is the ghost of a motorbike engine somewhere in the distance. I am sweating slightly, despite the air not being particularly warm. The mind wastes no time in turning this physical state into a technical failure.
The Anatomy of Pain-Plus-Meaning
Chanmyay pain. That phrase appears like a label affixed to the physical sensation. It's an uninvited guest that settles into the awareness. The sensation becomes "pain-plus-meaning."
Am I observing it correctly? Should I be noting it more clearly, or perhaps with less intensity? Is the very act of observing it a form of subtle attachment? The raw pain is nothing compared to the complicated mental drama that has built up around it.
The "Chanmyay Doubt" Loop
I try to focus on the bare data: the warmth, the tightness, the rhythmic pulsing. Then the doubt creeps in quietly, disguised as a reasonable inquiry. "Chanmyay doubt." Maybe my viriya (effort) is too aggressive. Or maybe I'm being lazy, or I've completely misinterpreted the entire method.
I worry that I missed a key point in the teachings years ago, and I've been building my practice on a foundation of error ever since.
The fear of "wrong practice" is much sharper than any somatic sensation. I catch myself subtly adjusting my posture, then freezing, then adjusting again because it feels uneven. My muscles seize up, reacting to the forced adjustments with a sense of protest. There’s a tight ball in my chest—not exactly pain, but a dense unease.
Communal Endurance vs. Private Failure
On retreat, get more info the discomfort seemed easier to bear because it was shared with others. Pain felt like a shared experience then. Now it feels personal, isolated. Like a test I am failing in private. I can't stop the internal whisper that tells me I'm reinforcing the wrong habits. The fear is that I'm just hardening my ego rather than dissolving it.
The Trap of "Proof" and False Relief
I read a passage on the dangers of over-striving, and my mind screamed, "See? This is you!" The internal critic felt vindicated: "Finally, proof that you are a failure at meditation." There is a weird sense of "aha!" mixed with a "no!" I'm glad to have an answer, but terrified of how much work it will take to correct. I am sitting here in the grip of both emotions, my teeth grinding together. I relax it. It tightens again five breaths later.
The Shifting Tide of Discomfort
The discomfort changes its quality, a shift that I find incredibly frustrating. I was looking for something stable to observe; I wanted a "fixed" object. Rather, it ebbs and flows, feeling like a dynamic enemy that is playing games with my focus. I attempt to meet it with equanimity, but I cannot. I notice the failure. Then I wonder if noticing the failure is progress or just more thinking.
The doubt isn't theatrical; it's a subtle background noise that never stops questioning my integrity. I don’t answer it, mostly because I don’t have an honest answer. My breathing has become thin, yet I refrain from manipulating it. Experience has taught me that "fixing" the moment only creates a new layer of artificiality.
The clock ticks. I don’t look at it this time. A small mercy. My limb is losing its feeling, replaced by the familiar static of a leg "falling asleep." I haven't moved yet, but I'm negotiating the exit in my mind. The clarity is gone. Wrong practice, right practice, pain, doubt—all mashed together in this very human mess.
I don’t resolve anything tonight. The pain doesn’t teach me a lesson. The doubt doesn’t disappear. I am just here, acknowledging that "not knowing" is also the path, even if I lack the tools to process it right now. Continuing to breathe, continuing to hurt, continuing to exist. Which feels like the only honest thing happening right now.