For many contemporary seekers, the first difficulty lies in the very language and structure of Samayasāra. Composed in Prakrit and cast in brief, sutra-like verses, it compresses profound ideas into highly condensed aphorisms. The poetic form, while beautiful, often obscures the philosophical intent, and technical Jain terms such as *jīva*, *ajīva*, *dravya*, *paryāya*, and various classifications of karma do not have straightforward equivalents in modern languages. Translations inevitably reflect particular interpretive choices, and without access to reliable commentaries or teachers, the text can appear opaque or even contradictory. This linguistic and stylistic density means that much is implied rather than explicitly stated, demanding a prior grounding in Jain thought that many modern readers do not possess.

A further challenge arises from the philosophical sophistication of the work, especially its use of multiple standpoints. Samayasāra moves continually between the ultimate standpoint (*niścaya naya*), which speaks of the pure, unchanging soul, and the practical standpoint (*vyavahāra naya*), which addresses the soul as entangled in worldly activity and karmic bondage. Without a clear sense of these two levels, verses that emphasize the pure, liberated self can seem to deny the reality or importance of ethical conduct and worldly responsibility, while other passages appear to reassert them. This dual presentation of the transactional self and the pure self can puzzle readers who are not accustomed to such layered discourse, and it can generate the impression of doctrinal tension where the tradition sees a subtle harmony.

The cultural and spiritual horizon presupposed by the text also poses obstacles. Samayasāra assumes familiarity with Jain cosmology, rebirth, nonviolence, ascetic ideals, and the monastic context in which rigorous practices of meditation and detachment are cultivated. For those formed by different religious or philosophical backgrounds, or by more psychological and this-worldly understandings of spirituality, the radical interior focus of the work—its insistence on pure consciousness and non-identification with body and emotions—can feel abstract, severe, or even world-denying. The strong ascetic tone and the intricate metaphysical framework of karmic bondage may be difficult to translate into an intelligible inner practice without guidance that can bridge these conceptual worlds.

Finally, there are interpretive and practical issues that confront the earnest reader. Classical commentaries and later scholastic traditions offer divergent explanations of key passages, and distinguishing the core intent of Kundakunda from later elaborations is not always straightforward. Apparent contradictions between absolute and practical teachings require careful reflection to resolve, and integrating the text’s vision of self-realization with the conditions of lay life demands a nuanced understanding of how its contemplative instructions can be lived rather than merely admired. For many, the scarcity of accessible, critical editions and the need for interdisciplinary familiarity with philosophy, religion, and contemplative practice mean that approaching Samayasāra is less a casual reading and more a sustained apprenticeship in a demanding but deeply transformative way of seeing the self.