Ramana Maharshi’s approach to self-inquiry reads like a direct invitation to inspect the “I”-thought at its source. For some, that laser-sharp attention can spark an immediate flash of insight—often called a jnana or awakening glimpse—where the usual chatter falls away and reality seems to shine without a veil. Such moments do pop up, much like stumbling upon a hidden path in a dense forest, but they tend to be brief unless the mind stays rooted in that inquiry.

More commonly, the process unfolds like the slow emergence of dawn. Each practice session—whether spent quietly watching thoughts arise or gently returning to “Who am I?”—peels away layers of habit and identification. Just as a tree rings more pronounced growth over years, inner clarity deepens step by step. Even in today’s age of instant gratification, where apps and guided meditations promise quick fixes, true transformation often prefers a steady pace.

Historical accounts from Ramanashram describe individuals who touched the Self almost overnight. Yet most seekers find themselves on a longer trek, weaving moments of stillness into daily life and observing how old patterns loosen their grip. Along the way, tiny awakenings appear—a sudden kindness without motive, a calm center amid chaos, or the fading importance of past worries.

Ultimately, self-inquiry offers both the lightning strike and the steady burn. Blink and the Self may reveal itself in an unexpected flash; sit with the practice day after day, and it becomes the ground beneath every step. Patience and persistence, sprinkled with openness to the mystery, tend to yield the most profound and lasting shift.