Practitioners rooted in the Gelug lineage weave lojong seamlessly into the broader Lamrim (stages of the path) framework, treating those pithy slogans not as standalone mantras but as the daily bread of a bodhisattva’s journey. Tsongkhapa’s Eight Verses for Training the Mind remain the beating heart of this approach, illuminated by generations of commentaries—most notably by Panchen Lobsang Chokyi Gyeltsen—so that each maxim can be turned over and over, like steering a ship through stormy seas.

First, analytical meditation is key. Before even chanting “Treat all guests as if they were kings,” there’s a careful dismantling of self-centered habits through reasoning on impermanence, suffering and emptiness. That analysis feeds genuine compassion rather than a mere warm-and-fuzzy sentiment. Next comes familiarization: the slogans accompany daily routines—standing in line, waiting at traffic lights or scrolling through a newsfeed—triggering intentional shifts in attitude (“When the world pushes you to your knees, you’re in the perfect position to pray,” as one modern teacher quips).

Debate sessions, a hallmark of Gelug monasteries, pace this process. Questioning and defending lojong points sharpens conviction and ironclad clarity. Recent virtual retreats hosted by the Dalai Lama—streamed live to audiences from New York to New Delhi—blend traditional debate with guided lojong exercises, demonstrating how mind training adapts to our digital age without losing its spark.

Ultimately, this blend of rigorous analysis, heartfelt familiarization and lively debate creates a dynamic practice. It’s less about memorizing slogans and more about forging an iron-willed compassion capable of meeting any challenge.