Perception gets painted as a grand illusion in the Lankavatara Sutra, where what feels “real” is just ripples on the surface of consciousness. Like a magician’s sleight of hand, the world of sights, sounds and sensations turns out to be projections fueled by the alaya-vijñāna, the ever‐churning “storehouse” of karmic seeds. Every moment experienced is shaped by past impressions lurking in that deep reservoir—think of social media algorithms feeding personalized newsfeeds today. Reality, then, resembles a virtual landscape: vivid, compelling, yet ultimately constructed.

This text rides the Yogācāra wave, insisting there’s no external object independent of mind. When someone gazes at a mountain or scrolls through a feed of curated images, what’s really happening is consciousness reflecting upon itself, like a mirror witnessing its own reflection. Any duality—subject here, object there—is simply a thought‐fabricated boundary. Once caught up in the drama of “me vs. that,” suffering tags along.

But there’s a twist: the sutra doesn’t leave perception hanging in skepticism. Right awareness unveils the Buddha‐nature imbued in every fluctuating moment. By recognizing that all appearances are empty—void of intrinsic selfhood—mental knots start to loosen. It’s akin to spotting a deepfake for what it is; the spell breaks. That luminous, unwavering groundness remains.

In today’s world, where AI‐generated content and echo chambers blur fact and fiction, the Lankavatara Sutra’s message feels surprisingly on point. Peeling back layers of illusion isn’t about denial but about awakening to an unshakable clarity at the heart of experience. Perception may dazzle, but reality isn’t in the show—it’s the screen making it all possible.