i keep replaying mahasi, goenka, pa auk in my mind and somehow forget the simple act of sitting

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. 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. The labels keep swirling: Mahasi, Goenka, Pa Auk; noting versus scanning; Samatha versus 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 claim to be finished with technique-shopping, yet I am still here, assigning grades to different methods instead of just sitting.

A few hours ago, I tried to focus solely on anapanasati. A task that is ostensibly simple. Then the mind started questioning the technique: "Is this Mahasi abdominal movement or Pa Auk breath at the nostrils?" Are you missing a detail? Is the mind dull? Should you be noting this sensation right now? 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 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. That felt secure. Then, sitting in my own room without that "safety net," the uncertainty rushed back with a vengeance. I thought of the rigorous standards of Pa Auk, and suddenly my own restless sitting felt like "cutting corners." 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. For a second, there is only the raw data of experience. The burning sensation in my leg. The feeling of gravity. A distant insect noise. Then the ego returns, frantically trying to categorize the sensation into a specific Buddhist framework. It is almost comical.

A notification light flashed on my phone a while ago. I didn't check it immediately, which felt like a minor achievement, and then I felt ridiculous for feeling proud. See? The same pattern. Endlessly calculating. Endlessly evaluating. I think about the sheer volume of energy I lose to the fear of practicing incorrectly.

I notice my breathing has become shallow again. I don't try to deepen it. I've realized that the act of "trying to relax" is itself a form of agitation. The fan makes its rhythmic clicking sound. That tiny sound triggers a surge of frustration. I label that irritation mentally, then realize I am only labeling because I think it's what a "good" meditator would do. Then I give up on the technique entirely just to be defiant. Then I forget what I was doing entirely.

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 the fact that no matter the system, I still have to sit with myself, night after night.

My lower limbs have gone numb and are now get more info prickling. I let it happen. Or I try to. The urge to move pulses underneath the surface. I start bargaining with myself. "Just five more inhalations, and then I'll move." The agreement is broken within seconds. So be it.

There is no final answer. 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 leave the question unanswered. It isn't necessary. It is enough to just witness this mental theater, knowing that I am still here, breathing through it all.