stuck comparing mahasi, goenka, pa auk in my thoughts when all i meant to do was sit

The time is nearly 2:00 a.m., and my bedroom feels uncomfortably warm even with a slight breeze coming through the window. The air carries that humid, midnight smell, like the ghost of a rain that fell in another neighborhood. My lower back is tight and resistant. I find myself repeatedly shifting my posture, then forcing myself to be still, only to adjust again because I am still chasing the illusion of a perfect sitting position. It is a myth. And even if it did exist, I suspect I would only find it for a second before it vanished again.

I find my thoughts constantly weighing one system against another, like a mental debate club that doesn't know when to quit. Mahasi. Goenka. Pa Auk. Noting. Breath. Samatha. Vipassana. It is like having too many mental tabs open, switching between them in the hope that one will finally offer the "correct" answer. I find this method-shopping at 2 a.m. to be both irritating and deeply humbling. I claim to be finished with technique-shopping, yet I am still here, assigning grades to different methods instead of just sitting.

Earlier tonight, I attempted to simply observe the breath. It should have been straightforward. Suddenly, the internal critic jumped in, asking if I was following the Mahasi noting method or a more standard breath awareness. Is there a gap in your awareness? Are you becoming sleepy? Do you need to note that itch? That internal dialogue is not a suggestion; it is a cross-examination. I didn't even notice the tension building in my jaw. By the time I noticed, the mental commentary had already seized control.

I recall the feeling of safety on a Goenka retreat, where the schedule was absolute. The timetable held me together. I didn't have to think; I only had to follow the pre-recorded voice. It provided a sense of safety. 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. Pa Auk floated into my thoughts too—all that talk of profound depth and Jhanic absorption—and suddenly my own scattered attention felt inferior. It felt like I was being insincere, even though I was the only witness.

The irony is that when I am actually paying attention, even for a few brief seconds, all that comparison vanishes. Not permanently, but briefly. There is a flash of time where more info 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.

I felt the vibration of a random alert on my device earlier. I resisted the urge to look, which felt like progress, but then I felt stupid for needing that small win. See? The same pattern. Ranking. Measuring. I speculate on the amount of effort I waste on the anxiety of "getting it right."

I become aware of a constriction in my breath. I choose not to manipulate the rhythm. I know from experience that trying to manufacture peace only creates more stress. I hear the fan cycle through its mechanical clicks. The noise irritates me more than it should. I apply a label to the feeling, then catch myself doing it out of a sense of obligation. Then I stop labeling out of spite. Then I simply drift away into thought.

Mahasi versus Goenka versus Pa Auk feels less like a genuine inquiry and more like a way for my mind to stay busy. By staying in the debate, the mind avoids the vulnerability of not knowing. Or the fact that no matter the system, I still have to sit with myself, night after night.

I can feel the blood returning to my feet—that stinging sensation. I attempt to just observe the sensation. The urge to move pulses underneath the surface. I enter into an internal treaty. Five more breaths. Then maybe I will shift. That deal falls apart almost immediately. So be it.

I have no sense of closure. I am not "awakened." I feel profoundly ordinary. Perplexed, exhausted, but still here. 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. It is enough to just witness this mental theater, knowing that I am still here, breathing through it all.