A practical way to live this path is to let the question “Who am I?” quietly permeate the day. In formal sitting, one can allow thoughts and emotions to arise and gently inquire, “To whom does this arise?” and then, “Who am I?”—not to reach an intellectual answer, but to notice the silent awareness in which all experiences appear. The same inquiry can continue in activity: when anger, fear, or pride arise, they can be seen as movements in body and mind, while attention rests as the witnessing presence. This simple shift from being the content of experience to being the observer of it is the heart of self-inquiry.

Alongside this, Jnana Yoga asks for steady discrimination (viveka) and detachment (vairagya). In ordinary choices, one can briefly discern what is changing—moods, circumstances, roles—from what remains constant, namely the fact of being aware. Seeing the impermanence of possessions, status, and opinions naturally loosens attachment to them, allowing actions to be performed with less dependence on outcomes. This does not deny emotions or responsibilities; rather, it places them in a wider context, so that success and failure, praise and blame, are met with greater equanimity.

Study and contemplation also play a central role. Reading a small portion of texts such as the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, or Advaita writings, and then pausing to ask, “What is this pointing to in direct experience right now?” helps prevent the teachings from remaining mere concepts. Reflection (manana) and deep contemplation (nididhyasana) allow the understanding that Atman, the witnessing self, is not separate from the ultimate reality described in these scriptures. Over time, this study, reflection, and meditation form a single movement: the mind returns again and again to the nature of awareness itself.

Daily life then becomes the field of practice. Relationships and work situations can be used as mirrors, revealing where a particular self-image is being defended or threatened. Noticing how much suffering comes from clinging to these images, one can gently question the “I” that seeks to be right, admired, or secure. Throughout the day, pausing to rest in the simple sense “I am,” before any label or story, allows experience—pleasant or painful—to be recognized as arising and subsiding in awareness, which itself remains untouched.