A steady gaze inward, free of mental chatter, forms the heart of the Lankāvatāra’s meditation recommendations. To begin, samādhi—or “calm abiding”—anchors awareness on the breath or a single mental image. This isn’t about forcing stillness but gently settling the mind so that distracting thoughts dissolve like mist in morning sun.

Once a stable base is established, vipassanā (insight) steps in. Here, attention shifts to the mechanics of thought itself: observing how perceptions arise, cling, and vanish. The Sutra likens this to watching waves on water without getting tossed about—learning to witness sensations and ideas without mistaking them for reality. Today’s mindfulness apps often promote something similar, but the Lankāvatāra underscores a sharper edge: cutting through duality until subject and object collapse into one seamless flow.

A third practice—often overlooked—is vikalpa-praṇidhāna, the settling of discursive thought. Rather than wrestling with every inner comment or judgment, meditators learn to let ideas form and fade without grabbing onto narratives. Imagine turning the tables on endless mental chatter—observing opinions as mere clouds passing through a clear sky.

Finally, the Sutra points toward direct “mind-only” realization (cittamātra). In modern retreats—whether in the Himalayas or online gatherings—teachers borrow this notion to invite a single, ever-present question: “Who hears the bells?” Such a koan-like approach isn’t about finding an intellectual answer, but letting the question burn off layers of conditioned identity until Buddha-nature shines through.

A recent session at the Global Buddhist Forum in Tokyo highlighted how these ancient steps blend seamlessly with current neuroscience findings on neuroplasticity. By calming, observing, releasing, and inquiring, practitioners tap into the universal seed of awakening already nestled within each heart.