A frequent misunderstanding is to treat his words as a refined philosophy meant for intellectual mastery. He consistently subordinated conceptual understanding to direct realization, using ideas only as provisional pointers to the living sense of “I Am.” Related to this is the misreading of “I Am” and “I Am That” as affirmations of the personal ego, whereas he used them to indicate pure consciousness prior to all attributes. When this is overlooked, his radical statements are taken as abstract doctrine rather than as invitations to immediate seeing.

Another common distortion is to interpret his relentless negation—“not this, not that,” “the world is illusory”—as nihilism or a denial of all value. His use of “illusory” was to challenge the assumed independent reality of appearances, not to declare that life, relationship, or ethical sensitivity are meaningless. He negated false identifications with body and mind in order to reveal what remains as the ground of being, not to promote indifference or withdrawal from life. In this light, his sharp and sometimes abrasive style was a deliberate method to break complacency and conceptual fixation, rather than an expression of coldness or lack of compassion.

There is also a tendency to claim that he rejected practice and effort altogether, as if realization required nothing from the seeker. What he actually questioned was endless or mechanical practice; he repeatedly emphasized earnestness, sustained attention to the sense “I Am,” and the steady loosening of identification with the body–mind. Practices were regarded as temporary aids that must eventually be left behind, but focused inquiry and vigilance were never dismissed. To imagine that his teaching encourages passivity or spiritual laziness is to miss the rigor he demanded.

Another misconception is that his way is only for renunciates or for those steeped in scriptural learning. His own life as a householder and shopkeeper shows that realization, as he presented it, does not require external withdrawal from ordinary responsibilities. He did not base his authority on extensive textual study, and he did not insist that others do so; rather, he pointed again and again to direct insight. At the same time, he did not downplay the Guru–disciple relationship or devotion: his unwavering reverence for his Guru and the centrality of that trust in his awakening are well attested.

Finally, it is sometimes assumed that a single book can capture the entirety of his teaching, or that his teaching is simply a restatement of formal Advaita Vedānta. The dialogues available in translation are curated, filtered through language and editorial choices, and represent only a portion of his teaching life, with inevitable loss of nuance. His expression, while rooted in non-dual insight, is strikingly experiential and unsystematic, not easily confined to standard philosophical categories. To approach his words with these nuances in mind allows a more faithful engagement with what he was actually pointing toward.