i sit down and chanmyay pain, doubt, wrong practice start circling all over again

The clock reads 2:18 a.m., and a persistent, dull ache in my right knee is competing for my attention—not enough to force a shift, but plenty to destroy my calm. The floor feels significantly harder than it did yesterday, an observation that makes no logical sense but feels entirely authentic. 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" shows up in my mind, a pre-packaged label for the screaming in my knee. I didn't consciously choose the word; it just manifested. The raw data transforms into "pain-plus-narrative."

I start questioning my technique: is my noting too sharp or too soft? Am I feeding the pain by focusing on it so relentlessly? The physical discomfort itself feels almost secondary to the swarm of thoughts orbiting it.

The "Chanmyay Doubt" Loop
I try to focus on the bare data: the warmth, the tightness, the rhythmic pulsing. 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.

Maybe I misunderstood the instructions years ago and everything since then has been built on a slight misalignment that no one warned me about.

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. I feel a knot of anxiety forming in my chest, a physical manifestation of my doubt.

Communal Endurance vs. Private Failure
On retreat, 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 solitary trial that I am proving to be unworthy of. “Chanmyay wrong practice” echoes in my head—not as a statement, but as a fear. The idea that I am reinforcing old patterns instead of uprooting them.

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!" “See? This explains everything. You’ve been doing it wrong.” That thought brings a strange mixture of here relief and panic. Relief that the problem has a name, but panic because the solution seems impossible. I am sitting here in the grip of both emotions, my teeth grinding together. I consciously soften my face, only for the tension to return almost immediately.

The Shifting Tide of Discomfort
The ache moves to a different spot, which is far more irritating than a steady sensation. I had hoped for a consistent sensation that I could systematically note. Instead, it pulses, fades, and returns, as if it’s intentionally messing with me. I strive for a balanced mind, but I am clearly biased against the pain. I notice the failure. Then I wonder if noticing the failure is progress or just more thinking.

“Chanmyay doubt” is not dramatic; it is a low, persistent hum asking, “Are you sure?” I don’t answer it, mostly because I don’t have an honest answer. My breath is shallow, but I don’t correct it. I know from experience that any attempt to force "rightness" will only create more knots to undo.

The clock ticks. I don’t look at it this time. A small mercy. My leg is going numb around the edges. Pins and needles creep in. I stay. Or I hesitate. Or I stay while planning to move. It’s all blurry. All the categories have collapsed into one big, messy, human experience.

I am not leaving this sit with an answer. The discomfort hasn't revealed a grand truth, and the uncertainty is still there. I am just here, acknowledging that "not knowing" is also the path, even if I don’t know exactly what to do with it yet. Just breathing, just aching, just staying. Which feels like the only honest thing happening right now.