The dialogues present a sustained dismantling of the usual sense of identity. What is ordinarily taken to be the self—body, mind, emotions, personal history, and all changing experiences—is shown to be merely the observed, never the true observer. Through a method akin to systematic negation, anything that can be seen, thought, or felt is excluded from the category of the real Self. This process reveals that the person, as commonly conceived, is a composite of transient phenomena rather than the abiding principle that knows them. The teaching thus loosens the grip of habitual identifications and prepares the ground for a subtler recognition.

At the heart of the teaching stands the simple sense of being, the bare feeling “I am” prior to any qualification such as “this” or “that.” This unadorned “I am” is presented as the primary doorway: more fundamental than thoughts and roles, yet still accessible in immediate experience. The instruction is to remain with this pure sense of existence, to attend to it without adding conceptual overlays. By staying with this “I amness,” the seeker gradually discerns the difference between the impersonal fact of being and the personal story built upon it. In this way, the “I am” functions as a bridge from identification with the person to recognition of a deeper ground.

Yet the teaching does not stop with the “I am” itself. Through sustained inquiry, it is pointed out that even this primal sense of being is, in the end, an appearance known to something more fundamental. The true Self is described as pure awareness or consciousness, the witnessing presence in which body, mind, world, and even the feeling “I am” arise and subside. This awareness is characterized as unchanging and without attributes, not subject to birth or death, and not confined to any personal center. From this standpoint, the question of identity is resolved not by a new description of the person, but by recognition of that which silently knows all descriptions.

The practical orientation of the dialogues is consistently toward direct seeing rather than philosophical speculation. The seeker is urged to observe that everything known is in flux, while the knower does not come and go with these changes. By tracing thoughts and feelings back to the one to whom they appear, attention is led away from objects and toward their source. Resting in the pure sense of being, and then seeing that even this is witnessed, allows the apparent individual to discover an impersonal, universal consciousness as the abiding reality. In that discovery, the habitual question “Who am I?” loses its urgency, as the assumed separate entity is no longer taken to be ultimately real.