Meditating in the spirit of the Diamond Sutra begins with a particular attitude: the text is approached not as a doctrine to be grasped and possessed, but as a skillful means for loosening fixed views. The intention is to see through clinging to self, others, and even to the teachings themselves. A helpful way to do this is to work with short, potent passages, such as “a bodhisattva should produce a mind that does not abide in anything,” or the famous verse likening conditioned things to a dream, a bubble, or a lightning flash. Reading such lines slowly, several times, and then allowing one of them to become the theme of a sitting period turns study into contemplative practice. Settling the body and breath, the chosen phrase is held gently in awareness, returning to it whenever distraction arises.

From there, the sutra’s method of negation can be taken up as inquiry. Phrases such as “bodhisattva,” “beings,” or even “self” are quietly examined: where, in direct experience, can such an entity be located—only in body, in thoughts, in labels, or anywhere at all as something fixed and independent? As this examination unfolds, it becomes apparent that what is usually taken as solid identity is in fact a flow of changing experiences, known only as sensations and thoughts. This same insight can be extended to acts of generosity, reflecting on the “no-self of giver, receiver, and gift.” A remembered act of giving is explored: the sense of “I who gave,” the “other who received,” and the “gift” itself are all seen as constructions resting on fleeting mental images and feelings. In this way, the sutra’s teaching on non-attachment to merit is made experiential rather than merely conceptual.

Another fruitful approach is to meditate directly on “non-abiding mind.” While sitting, thoughts, emotions, and images are allowed to arise and pass without being forced away and without being followed with commentary. The tendency of mind to settle into grasping, rejecting, or ignoring each experience is noticed, and gently released. Each appearance is recognized as momentary, and for brief intervals the mind tastes what it is like not to take refuge in any object, pleasant or unpleasant. This can be supported by alternating “form” and “formless” practice: first stabilizing attention on something concrete such as the breath, body sensations, or even the physical sutra text, and then examining how that very object changes moment by moment and cannot be pinned down as a fixed thing. Such practice enacts the teaching that all conditioned phenomena are like an illusion.

Finally, the text can be engaged in a manner akin to koan practice, especially in traditions influenced by Zen. Questions such as “What is a mind that does not abide in anything right now?” or “How is the Buddha seen without clinging to form or sound?” are held silently in the background of awareness during meditation. No intellectual answer is sought; rather, the question is allowed to cut through habitual thinking until, at times, even the question itself falls away and only vivid presence remains. Outside of formal sitting, the same spirit is brought into daily life: when praise or blame, gain or loss stir the heart, there is a quiet inquiry into where the fixed “me” that is praised or hurt can actually be found. Throughout, the teachings on emptiness and illusion are not used to deny experience or to fall into nihilism, but to reveal that, precisely because nothing is fixed or inherently existing, compassionate action can move freely within this openness.