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 floor feels significantly harder than it did yesterday, an observation that makes no logical sense but feels entirely authentic. The room is silent except for the distant sound of a motorbike that lingers on the edge of hearing. I find myself sweating a bit, even though the night air is relatively temperate. The mind wastes no time in turning this physical state into a technical failure.
The Anatomy of Pain-Plus-Meaning
The term "Chanmyay pain" arises as a technical tag for the discomfort. It's an uninvited guest that settles into the awareness. The sensation becomes "pain-plus-meaning."
The doubt begins: is my awareness penetrative enough, or am I just thinking about the pain? Am I feeding the pain by focusing on it so relentlessly? The raw pain is nothing compared to the complicated mental drama that has built up around it.
The "Chanmyay Doubt" Loop
I make an effort to observe only the physical qualities: the heat and the pressure. Suddenly, doubt surfaces, cloaked in the language of a "reality check." "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.
That specific doubt is far more painful than the throbbing in my joint. I catch myself subtly adjusting my posture, then freezing, then adjusting again because it feels uneven. My back tightens in response, as if it’s offended I didn't ask permission. There’s a tight ball in my chest—not exactly pain, but a dense unease.
Communal Endurance vs. Private Failure
I recall how much simpler it was to sit with pain when I was surrounded by a silent group of practitioners. In a hall, the ache felt like part of the human condition; here, it feels like my own personal burden. Like a test I am failing in private. “Chanmyay wrong practice” echoes in my head—not as a statement, but as a fear. The fear is that I'm just hardening my ego rather than dissolving it.
The Trap of "Proof" and False Relief
I encountered a teaching on "wrong effort" today, and my ego immediately used it as evidence against me. It felt like a definitive verdict: "You have been practicing incorrectly this whole time." The idea is a toxic blend of comfort and terror. Relief because there is an explanation; panic because fixing it feels overwhelming. Sitting here now, I feel both at once. My jaw is clenched. I release the clench, but it's back within a minute. It’s an automatic reflex.
The Shifting Tide of Discomfort
The pain shifts slightly, which is more annoying than if it had stayed constant. I had hoped for a consistent sensation that I could systematically note. It feels like a moving target—disappearing only to strike again elsewhere. I strive for a balanced mind, but I am clearly biased against the pain. I note my lack of equanimity, and then I start an intellectual debate about whether that noting was "correct."
“Chanmyay doubt” is not dramatic; it is a low, persistent hum asking, “Are you sure?” I offer no reply, primarily because I am genuinely unsure. The air is barely moving in my chest, but I leave it alone. 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. The sensation of numbness is spreading through my foot, followed by the "prickling" of pins and needles. I haven't moved yet, but I'm negotiating the exit in my mind. The clarity is gone. All the categories have collapsed into one big, messy, human experience.
There is no closure this evening. The pain remains a mystery, and the doubt stays firmly in place. I just sit here, aware that this confusion is part of the territory too, even if I don't have a strategy for this mess. Continuing check here to breathe, continuing to hurt, continuing to exist. Which feels like the only honest thing happening right now.