The Problem of Life

Every person who is born enters a difficult problem between enjoyment and contribution. If one only enjoys without contributing, upon death they will fall into the realm of hungry ghosts, suffering greatly.

In the late afternoon, amidst the stifling heat of summer, a teacher stepped out of the lecture hall after giving a dharma talk. The Buddhist followers left one by one, granting him a moment of silence. He gently sat down on an old hammock, his eyes gazing into the distance, his brows slightly furrowed.

As the years of practice grew longer, he realized a profound truth: human beings are not born to live meaninglessly, but to enter an extremely difficult problem that must be solved throughout one’s entire life. Solve it correctly and earn ten points, leading to rebirth in the heavenly realms. Earn five points, and you are reborn to continue solving it. But if you solve it incorrectly and earn no points, you descend into hell.

The difficulty of this problem lies in its constant rotation around two concepts: sin and merit. Each day, we face countless situations, each one a choice between two paths.

For example, when someone treats us well, how do we respond?

If we respond with loyalty and sincere gratitude, we create merit. But if we see their kindness and immediately intend to exploit them, disregarding all else to gain personal benefit, that is sin.

Or when someone treats us poorly. If we respond with hatred, anger, and seek revenge, that is sin. But if we know how to endure patiently, handling the situation skillfully so as not to be harmed nor to harm others, and if there is an opportunity, we transform them through our goodness, that is merit.

Countless aspects of life test us within this problem of sin and merit. But is it easy to avoid sin and perform only meritorious deeds in every small daily action? It is very difficult. Only those who know how to practice and calm their minds can hope to find the solution.

Beyond the pair of problems regarding sin and merit, there is another difficult pair he wished to discuss: the problem between contribution and enjoyment.

When we appear in this world, we begin a life of enjoyment. The first step is nursing from the mother’s breast—the first act of enjoyment. As we grow, countless other things arrive: the vehicle we drive, the clothes we wear, the hairstyle we choose, the meals we eat... All of these are forms of enjoyment.

Enjoyment comes from two sources: one arises naturally, and the other requires seeking. The root of all enjoyment is blessings from merit accumulated in previous lives. Those with great merit enjoy much: beautiful clothes, delicious food, love from many people, and good educational opportunities. Those with little merit enjoy little: they desire good food but lack the chance, they wish for fine clothes but lack the means, and sometimes no one even cares about them.

Merit varies from person to person and differs across realms. Those who accumulate excessive merit find that human enjoyment cannot satisfy them; they must ascend to the heavenly realms. There, enjoyment is hundreds of thousands or millions of times greater than in the human realm. Celestial beings can change form at will, and their garments transform instantly, requiring nothing beyond creative imagination.

Conversely, those who cause immense suffering to others due to greed, hatred, and delusion, whose cruelty exceeds the punishments available in the human realm, must descend into hell.

And situated between these two realms—the heavenly realm of enjoyment and the hellish realm of punishment—is the human realm, where we must solve the problem between contribution and enjoyment.

But there is yet another realm, a strange one indeed: a place with nothing to enjoy and no opportunity to contribute. This is the realm of hungry ghosts, also known as pretas.

The realm of hungry ghosts is not peaceful despite being empty. Beings there crave enjoyment but have nothing to enjoy. They hunger for food every day but have nothing to eat. They see others loving one another while they receive no affection. They see others in beautiful clothes while they remain ragged and torn. Their craving and longing bring extreme insecurity and suffering.

More frightening still, approximately ninety percent of beings who die fall into the realm of hungry ghosts for temporary rest. Why? Because while living in the human realm, most beings had already exhausted the merit they had created. They ate, played, and consumed without thinking about contributing or creating new merit.

It is like having a credit card. Every time we shop, we swipe the card and take the goods home, without considering the dwindling balance. Similarly, each person has a treasury of merit accumulated from past lives. With every bowl of rice eaten and every glass of water drunk, that treasury decreases bit by bit.

If we do not replenish that treasury of merit, if we do not contribute to create new merit, once the merit runs out, the realm of hungry ghosts awaits.

Humans are most careless when eating. We only wish to eat for nourishment and pleasure, never asking what we did that day to deserve the bowl of rice before us. When mealtime arrives, we feel entitled to eat. If someone does not feed us, we curse them. We believe we have a natural right to exist and be fed, but we never ask ourselves: How did I live today? What did I do? What did I contribute to deserve this mouthful of rice?

Only true practitioners with wisdom understand this. Upon entering monastic life, one learns the lesson: "Calculate what good you have done in your life to see if this bowl of rice is truly deserved." Yet, many practitioners forget this.

When one attains deep spiritual power and high wisdom, that wisdom begins to illuminate every instance of sin and merit in life. It shines even upon a single grain of rice. Lifting the spoon, one sees the debt inherent in it. Yet, one must eat. One eats to practice, to perform Buddha-work, to teach, and to contribute to the world.

Take himself, for example. Each day he eats a bowl of rice, and sometimes, when tired, he only wants to lie down in the hammock. But he remembers that he has done nothing all day. So he sits up, takes out a pen, opens his computer, prepares tomorrow’s dharma talk, continues writing the book he is working on, or goes to care for his disciples, offering reminders. He must exert labor to match the bowl of rice he has eaten.

He feels great fear. For he thinks that if he does nothing in a day yet still eats a bowl of rice, his merit is being depleted without anything added back.

Seeing himself thus, he looks at the whole world with concern. Sometimes he watches films to see what young people think today: after finishing a meal, they go out partying, dancing, using drugs, or committing crimes—all acts of sin. This world has never understood the weight of each grain of rice, each spoonful they consume. They think food is a natural entitlement, and they live however they please. That is why they fall entirely into the realm of hungry ghosts.

Only when one clearly sees that they are caught in the problem between contribution and enjoyment during their human life, becoming conscious of this bit by bit, and striving to serve and contribute to the world, can one escape.

There is abundant enjoyment in the human realm: eating, wearing fine clothes, living in comfortable homes, bathing, possessing wealth, wielding power, receiving praise, traveling on roads, entertainment, beautifying the body, sexuality, educational opportunities, social welfare, medical treatment, tourism, communication, and affectionate relationships... All of these are forms of enjoyment.

Lacking just one thing, we complain to heaven and earth. Missing a smooth road, we become irritated. Not receiving praise, we feel uncomfortable.

Therefore, the problem of life between contribution and enjoyment constantly places us in situations of enjoyment. But where does this enjoyment come from? From past merit. And that merit is eroding day by day.

If we do not consciously contribute to create new merit, when our merit is exhausted, we will fall into the realm of hungry ghosts—a realm with nothing to enjoy, nothing to eat, filled with extreme insecurity and suffering.

He sat up, his gaze contemplative. Outside, the sunset was fading. The story of the problem of life, between enjoyment and contribution, remains, waiting for each person to find their own answer.

The Meaning of the Story

The story "The Problem of Life" by Venerable Thich Chan Quang conveys a profound lesson: Every person born enters a "problem" between enjoyment and contribution. Enjoyment—eating, clothing, shelter, comfort, emotions—all stems from blessings from merit accumulated in previous lives, and this merit gradually depletes with every meal and every day lived. If we only know how to enjoy without knowing how to contribute and create new merit, we will fall into the realm of hungry ghosts—a realm devoid of enjoyment, filled with craving and insecurity. Conversely, if we know how to balance, clearly seeing our responsibility for every mouthful of rice and every breath, and strive to contribute and serve, we can escape this difficult problem and achieve a positive outcome.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang