In the recorded teachings, bodily discomfort and restlessness are not treated as special obstacles but as further appearances in awareness, to be related to in the same way as thoughts. The central movement is always to turn from the object to the subject: when pain, agitation, or the impulse to move arises, the instruction is to ask, “To whom does this arise?” and then to follow that back with “Who am I?” In this way, the sensation is not fought with nor indulged; it becomes a pointer back to the sense of “I” that is aware of it. Discomfort is thus recontextualized, no longer the center of attention but a reminder that attention has strayed outward.

At the same time, there is no recommendation of self-torture or heroic austerity. A simple, steady, reasonably comfortable posture is regarded as supportive, and if the body is in genuine pain, a quiet adjustment or tending to basic needs is allowed without making a drama of it. Physical stillness is helpful but not an absolute condition; the emphasis falls on the continuity of inquiry rather than on rigid control of the body. The body and its sensations are treated as secondary, never as the locus of identity.

Restlessness, whether mental or physical, is approached as another form of thought. The feeling “I am restless, I must move” is itself taken as material for inquiry: “Who is restless?” “To whom does this agitation appear?” By tracing this back, the energy that would normally flow outward into movement is gradually drawn inward toward its source. Over time, through such persistence, the hold of these disturbances on attention weakens, and the identification with the body and its states loosens.

There is also a clear refusal to make ideal conditions a prerequisite for practice. Self-inquiry is said to be possible in any posture and in all circumstances; waiting for perfect comfort or a perfectly quiet mind only postpones the essential work. The task is to recognize that sensations and restlessness are objects appearing to awareness, while the Self remains untouched by their comings and goings. When discomfort or agitation arises, it can therefore be seen not as an enemy but as a timely invitation to return once more to the bare sense of “I am,” which is the heart of the teaching.