the endless loop of mahasi vs goenka vs pa auk, and how it pulls me away from just sitting

The time is nearly 2:00 a.m., and my bedroom feels uncomfortably warm even with a slight breeze coming through the window. 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 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 doesn’t. Or if such a position exists, I certainly haven't found a way to sustain it.

My mind is stuck in an endless loop of sectarian comparisons, acting like a courtroom that never goes into recess. It is a laundry list of techniques: Mahasi-style noting, Goenka-style scanning, Pa Auk-style concentration. It feels as though I am scrolling through a series of invisible browser tabs, clicking back and forth, desperate for one of them to provide enough certainty to silence the others. It is frustrating and, frankly, a little embarrassing. 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.

A few hours ago, I tried to focus solely on anapanasati. It should have been straightforward. Then my mind intervened with an interrogation: are you watching it Mahasi-style or more like traditional anapanasati? Is there a gap in your awareness? Are you becoming sleepy? Do you need to note that itch? That voice doesn't just whisper; it interrogates. I found my teeth grinding together before I was even aware of the stress. By the time I noticed, the mental commentary had already seized control.

I remember a Goenka retreat where the structure felt so incredibly contained. 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. But then, months later and without that structure, the doubts returned as if they had been lurking in the background all along. The technical depth of the Pa Auk method crossed my mind, making my own wandering mind feel like I was somehow failing. Like I was cheating, even though there was no one there to watch.

The funny thing is that in those moments of genuine awareness, the debate disappears instantly. Only for a moment, but it is real. There is a flash of time where the knee pain is just heat and pressure. Heat in the knee. Pressure in the seat. click here The whine of a mosquito near my ear. Then the internal librarian rushes in to file the experience under the "correct" technical heading. I almost laugh sometimes.

A notification light flashed on my phone a while ago. 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 speculate on the amount of effort I waste on the anxiety of "getting it right."

I notice my breathing has become shallow again. I choose not to manipulate the rhythm. I have learned that forcing a sense of "calm" only adds a new layer of tension. I hear the fan cycle through its mechanical clicks. I find the sound disproportionately annoying. I note the "irritation," then realize I am just performing the Mahasi method for an invisible audience. Then I give up on the technique entirely just to be defiant. 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. 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.

I can feel the blood returning to my feet—that stinging sensation. I try to meet it with equanimity. The desire to shift my weight is a throbbing physical demand. I negotiate. 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 just feel like myself. Confused. Slightly tired. Still showing up. The internal debate continues, but it has faded into a dull hum in the background. I make no effort to find a winner. It isn't necessary. For now, it is enough to notice that this is simply what the mind does when the world gets quiet.