One of the clearest indications that this form of practice is bearing fruit is a subtle but definite shift of attention toward the very sense of “I.” The mind finds it easier to turn inward, again and again, to the question “Who is aware of this?” or “To whom does this occur?” When this happens, thoughts may still arise, yet they are seen more as objects appearing in awareness than as a solid “me.” The familiar feeling of being a separate entity located in the body or head begins to appear less substantial, more like a passing thought or sensation. Along with this, inquiry itself tends to become simpler and less analytical, more a direct recognition of what is aware than an attempt to construct explanations.

Another sign is a gradual quieting of mental chatter and a softening of compulsive thinking. Periods of natural stillness or thoughtless awareness may appear, sometimes only briefly, yet with a quality of ease rather than strain. Even when thoughts continue, they lose some of their stickiness; they do not grip the attention in the same way. Emotional reactions, too, tend to lose some of their intensity, and there is more space before reaction, a sense of being the witness rather than the one who is pushed and pulled by every circumstance. Praise and blame, gain and loss, success and failure begin to provoke less inner turmoil, and a quiet equanimity starts to emerge.

Over time, there can be a growing background sense of simple presence, a feeling of just “being” that quietly pervades ordinary activities. This often shows itself as less identification with roles, stories, and personal narratives, and more natural detachment from the mind’s descriptions of self and world. The “I”-thought itself may feel less solid, and when it is examined, what appears are only transient thoughts, sensations, and feelings, all known within a wider awareness. In some moments, the usual sense of being a separate “I” may even seem to dissolve, leaving only a clear, self-luminous knowing. Such glimpses, however brief, can bring a taste of peace and a reduction in the restless search for fulfillment in external objects or experiences.

A further indication is that the practice begins to sustain itself with less deliberate effort. The mind, when it wanders, more readily returns to its own source, to the bare sense of “I am” or simple awareness, and can rest there, even if only for short intervals. The question “Who am I?” then functions less as a mental exercise and more as a pointer back to what is already present. As this deepens, there may be a natural recognition that awareness itself is the true nature, and that the various identifications—“I am this,” “I am that”—are secondary and contingent. Ultimately, the most telling sign is that the need for constant technique diminishes, because self-awareness becomes more continuous, and the seeker and the sought are no longer felt to be two.