The Trap of Gain and Loss: Teachings from Monk Delin

The Guidance of the Teacher

During my morning walking meditation, I, Shi Faxi, felt a profound vibration in my eyes, signalling that a message was ready to be received. I sensed another message emerging simultaneously, but I felt compelled to address the one that appeared first. I sought the guidance of Teacher Practitioner Xia Lianju, asking who I should interview first. Teacher Practitioner Xia Lianju offered these compassionate words:

It is best to cast your doubts toward the Buddha. When you have no self-centred thoughts, it is easy to follow the Right Way. Although these may seem like small doubts, if you address them from the small things, what is there to fear in the great? In this worldly realm, because we have physical bodies, it is natural to have desires. This is not as clear as the spirit. If you can always rely on the Buddha's teachings, you can ensure you remain on the right path. This is truly following the Buddha. All disciples should remember not to listen to your own ego. Listening to your own thoughts only keeps the wheel of karma turning. Do not forget this, and be warned. The questions you ask can follow the Causal Conditions. Just follow what appears first and put pen to paper. The true Dharma will flow naturally, benefiting all beings and yourself as well. I hope that all may realise the true nature of the Dharma together.

The Subtle Poison of Attachment

I am also a thought, but today I manifest as 'gain and loss.' The mind of gain and loss is something everyone possesses. We do not need to discuss how the world is even more polluted. But what is this 'gain and loss'? It is a subtle fluctuation that changes the expression on one's face. In the blink of an eye, the situation can shift like changing clouds and winds. A person with clear eyes can see it at a glance. The gain and loss are terrifying precisely because they are so subtle. The external appearance may still seem pleasant, but who knows that the inside is already murky? We say, 'I am like this, and I am like that!' or 'I am good, only he is good!' When we lose balance between gain and loss, how can we practise? The mind of gain and loss is not a state of purity. If you do not let go of this, you cannot practise well.

Let us examine this closely. What is gained? What is lost? It is nothing more than a subtle thought jumping around. The one who gains leaps with joy; the one who loses leaps with sorrow. Do you know that these thoughts are empty and illusory? There is no truth in them. They are the greatest obstacles. What benefit is there in the arising and ceasing of these thoughts? Instead, emotions overwhelm us. In every moment of the day, time is precious. When a thought of gain and loss arises, we lose our spiritual wealth and become truly impoverished. Do not indulge in this any longer. I have come today because of karmic affinity to speak to the world. I have walked this path of practice myself, and I have tasted the nature of gain and loss. It is bitter, truly bitter. It is a great suffering. What is this great suffering? It is binding oneself in knots. I suffered until I was exhausted, while others remained at ease. This is true ignorance. Do not be like me.

A Life of Intellectual Study Without Heart

Listen to my story. I was once a monastic. I came from a wealthy family and studied Buddhism from a young age. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and was cherished by all. From childhood, I did not know what the mind of gain and loss was, because I always got what I wanted. Everything went according to my wishes. I was handsome and dignified. My parents were devout Buddhists, so I had the habit of studying the sutras from a young age. Under their arrangement, I read one volume of the Sutra, Vinaya, and Abhidharma Pitakas after another. However, I did not focus on any one thing; I only skimmed the surface. My foundation in Buddhist studies was considered solid.

When I was fifteen, I fell into a severe illness. I was sick for many years, exhausting most of my family's wealth, yet no cure could be found. My parents could not bear to see their own flesh and blood suffer. They tried everything to save me. For nearly ten years, I remained confined to my room. My parents spent all our family assets. Sometimes we encountered famous doctors who demanded exorbitant fees. Soon, even our ancestral property was gone, yet my illness remained. I understood what my parents had done for me, and I felt deeply saddened. This was the first time I tasted the pain of loss. I had always possessed everything and had never lost anything. This time, I lost my physical and mental health, my freedom, the happiness of my family, and our vast wealth. I even lost my status as a wealthy young man. I spent many days in gloom and sorrow. During those days, the Buddha's teachings were my only companion. The sutras my parents had prepared for me became my final outlet. Over those ten years, I carefully read every word and sentence, seeking the Truth. I saw the impermanence of life and the manifestation of my own spiritual obstacles.

The Tragedy of a Misguided Path

My parents trusted my intelligence, and I often shared what I had realised from the sutras with them. They were very joyful, and the power of the Buddha's teachings supported our family. We moved from a grand mansion to a dilapidated hut, but my parents never uttered a word of complaint. We devoted ourselves to studying the Buddha's teachings. I do not remember when the thought of becoming a monastic arose. Since my life had been spent within the confines of a room, I had seen through the world. The deep Wisdom of the Buddha's teachings attracted me to study further. My parents agreed with my decision. We found a familiar temple and took the old abbot as my refuge master. My parents also devoted themselves to serving the temple. By the time I truly became a monastic, I was twenty-six years old. For the first time in ten years, I was in contact with people again. Although it was not complex—just the temple's devotees, the masters, and my fellow practitioners—I found that I was afraid to interact with everyone. My illness had changed my appearance, and the expressions of others made me feel afraid and sad. I cared about what others thought of me, and I let their reactions influence my mood. Of course, I did not know this was called the 'mind of gain and loss.' If I had known, I would not have been so ignorant.

Even if my Wisdom from the sutras was deep and vast, I could not overcome the single thought of gain and loss in my heart. A single fluctuation, a single emotion, destroyed my purity. I was unable to practise well. However, I was very dedicated to learning and propagating the Buddha's teachings. I gave my all. Although my heart was filled with subtle and frequent fluctuations, my appearance still looked somewhat like a monastic. Some people thought my appearance was dignified and serene. Naturally, amidst the praise and following of the devotees, I also felt happy and satisfied. Gain and loss drove everything I did. The initial intention behind every action I took was wrong because it was mixed with thoughts of gain and loss. I only realised this after I died. It is a great pity. It is truly a great pity. It is a pity for my practice of the Buddha's teachings.

Finding the Way Home to the Pure Land

In truth, 'gain' is merely a product of the convergence of Causal Conditions. The joy and happiness of a fleeting moment cannot be taken with you. 'Loss' is also just a lack of Causal Conditions. Just let things be. Why hold onto them, linger, or leave traces? To pass through a forest of green without a single leaf sticking to you—that is the true thought of a practitioner. To act without acting, to do without doing, to have nothing, to think nothing, to have no mind—that is true practice. These are the personal lessons I learned at a terrible price. Practice lies in cultivating 'no-self,' not in cultivating 'having.' Throughout my life, I never understood this principle. It was not until I was forty, in a dream, that I realised this. At that time, I was already a preceptor, a monk who taught the Vinaya. Although my seniority in the precepts was not deep, I was already a somewhat well-known monk.

In my dream, I lost to my own heart. The dream tested my character in many ways: the thought of ascending the seat to teach the Dharma, the thought of leading the ceremony, the thought of walking among the people, and various other trivial thoughts. In the dream, I realised I could never leave the cycle of gain and loss. There was gain: joy, arrogance, pride, and a sense of triumph. There was loss: sadness, frustration, discouragement, and the thought of retreating. In the dream, I did not understand it clearly, but I would wake up in a bad mood or a very good mood, completely controlled by these illusory states. This happened for several days in a row. I did not take it seriously, thinking it was just the manifestation of my daily activities. At forty-five, I accidentally contracted a terminal illness. A small tumour grew on my brain, and it was growing outward, so it was clearly visible. This small tumour seemed to have a life of its own; it would pulsate and even seemed to have emotions. It would affect me, or I would affect it. I did not understand this clearly, but I knew it could not be cured. I believed this might be my spiritual obstacles. I prostrated and repented, but it had no effect. Instead, I found that people were looking at me with strange eyes again. I was very sad and lost confidence in my spiritual achievements. My appearance was flawed, and naturally, everyone kept their distance. I looked down on my life's achievements and felt I was useless. My heart of retreat arose, and I returned to lay life. Less than a month later, I died in violent pain in my head. My state of death was miserable.

A Final Plea for Authentic Practice

Reflecting on my life of practice, there were truly many faults. Perhaps there were no major faults, but the minor ones were countless. These minor faults were all hidden within subtle thoughts. Even if my practice of the precepts was perfect, the mind cannot be completely bound by precepts. Too many precepts only decorate the external appearance, while the heart has countless subtle movements. I cannot help but sigh! As a preceptor who taught the precepts, did I truly uphold them? If I had achieved success in upholding the precepts, why did I die in such a miserable state? Subtle fluctuations are truly the place where a practitioner must put in the work. Cultivating the precepts lies in cultivating the heart, not just in external forms or behaviours. Like me, I could never leave the mind of gain and loss throughout my life. How could I be considered to have perfected the precepts? Except for my initial intention, most of what I did was for the sake of practising, living to satisfy the perceptions of others. In reality, I had no value at all. It is truly pathetic and sad. In the end, I destroyed my own spiritual achievements. My life of practice was in vain. The mind of gain and loss is truly terrifying. It is a slow poison that leads you away from the Buddha's path. Because the mind of gain and loss is too polluted, it is impossible to be reborn in the Pure Land. Between gain and loss lies the realm of cultivating 'no-self.' What does 'good' have to do with me? What about 'bad'? If there is no 'me,' there are none of these things. Well, I hope everyone achieves success in their practice. My sharing ends here.

The ashamed and ignorant monk, Shi Delin.

I, Shi Faxi, am deeply grateful for your sharing. For monastics, lay practitioners, and even ordinary people who do not practise, this is a truly excellent example. Subtle fluctuations in the heart—selfishness, jealousy, competitiveness, and all biased and evil thoughts—are truly terrible failures in practice. Once again, I thank you for your compassion, Master Delin.

Master Delin: This time, besides wanting to share the part about the mind of gain and loss, I also want to let everyone see the miserable end I reached at the end of my practice. First, returning to lay life was wrong; the karmic retribution arrived. Second, not cultivating the heart and character in my practice was wrong; it was as if I had not practised at all. Third, not eliminating spiritual obstacles was also wrong. Although our way of practice at that time could not be like the magnificent way of inviting spirits at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre, I think I should have at least changed my own destiny. Looking back on my life, my practice seemed to stop at the sutras and treatises, flowing between the words. I found joy in the doctrines, but I did not truly change my habits, my heart, or my character! Then what was I practising? All my karma was still orbiting around me. Is practice not for the sake of ending karma and transcending life and death? Instead, I buried myself deeper and more heavily in the sea of life and death. However, that is all in the past now. After I died, I went to the Avici Hell because I was still accompanied by my past karma. I was a Taoist in a past life and harmed many people. I would not have lived past twenty-six if I had not resolved to become a monastic. There would have been no subsequent path of practice; I would have just died. But practice must be authentic. It is still a pity. Fortunately, the Buddha is compassionate. Today, I was able to come to the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre because I resolved to help the monastics of today. I shared this article. Although I was wandering in the void, because of my sincere repentance in the Avici Hell, I was able to come out quickly. After coming out, I first became a dog in a temple to repay the debt of the void and the offerings of the ten directions. I lived as a dog for a hundred years. Later, because I entered the space, the old dog died of old age, and I did not continue to reincarnate. I was just drifting in the space. However, I am very concerned about the current state of the monastic community in the world. It is heartbreaking. We went astray from the beginning. I am very ashamed. Once the heart of shame and the desire to correct things arose, I was illuminated by the warm Buddha-light, and that is how I came to the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre. In fact, I had never noticed this place before. Coming here, I know this is a bodhimanda of the True Teachings, a pure place. It is magnificent, truly magnificent. After chanting the six-character name with all the great virtuous ones, it was so magnificent. I openly repented, and only then did I have the feeling to say these words. I am grateful for the Buddha's compassion. The ignorant monk, Delin, has failed the Buddha's gate. To the five bhikshuni masters present and the bhikshu monks who are about to become monastics, I can see the magnificent future of the Buddha's teachings in you. I also hope to lend you a helping hand. This article may not be perfect, but it is what I have experienced in my life. Everyone has these things in them. How much can you perceive now? You must change as much as you can so that you do not lose the path of practice in the end. Thank you for your dedication and contribution to the Buddha's teachings. We, the forces connected by karmic affinity in the void, will silently protect you. Namo Amituofo.

Shi Faxi: Thank you all. Namo Amituofo. On behalf of all the monastic communities and the fourfold assembly who practise the Buddha's teachings, I thank all the sages for their compassion.