"Journals & Reflections"

By Cal Burgess

May 17th, 2025— I am brimming with gratitude for those Dionysian moments I experienced this past spring— all those late nights, cuddles, dates, and thrilling emotions of attraction and companionship were the highest drug, and although it has all come crashing down, and although it seems it meant little to her in the end, I still had a good time and I have learned a lot. It’s funny how it all seemed like a weird, twisted vindication of my adolescence— the peck on the cheek by the river on April 12th, the play at CEC that same night. It all played out like a Wagnerian opera, and even though it was short-lived and quick to die, that fling represented a profound experience, and it gave me a taste of life that I had previously not experienced. I think it reveals a couple things relevant to the philosophic conversation— firstly, the tragedy of asceticism. There is no victory in self-denial to the point of missing out on peak experiences. My fling with her was stressful more often than not, especially in the end, and of course it was all concluded in about 2 months. Still though, despite the pain and sadness it brought me, despite the anxiety, I am so glad it happened. I gained a friend out of it, and I gained memories. I got just a shred of the human experience— something I had missed out on as a young teenager with few social connections or opportunities. How can I be mad that it’s over? I should be glad that it ever happened! A flower blooms, and for a short time, it is dazzlingly beautiful. It shines in the sun, dances on the wind, and moves with a fragrant aroma that permeates its surroundings. Soon enough though, it begins to wilt and die. The cracks begin to show— drooping leaves, flushed color, and a certain unvital appearance. The next day, it may be gone. Still though, despite the flower having wilted and died, looking ugly in its dying throes, we can all agree that the flower was beautiful. We can agree that it is better that the flower existed as opposed to that little spot on the ground being bare and equanimous. I view my fleeting relationship, and for that matter our lives as a whole, in a similar light. That relationship has given me a highlight reel steeped in emotion and meaning, for even if it was doomed to fail, the learning I did and the fun I had made those 2-3 months a very productive time, and it’s safe to say that I had a life-affirming experience. 

Life-affirming experiences are extremely important, as without them we do not live, we survive. I could sit in my bedroom for 20 years, in perfect health with plenty of money and few painful stimuli but be totally dead inside. I’d rather spend 20 years fighting for my life and living on the edge of pain and pleasure, because that is what is real, that is how nature has shaped our psychology. I’d rather spend 20 years trying to find the lasting romantic love I truly desire, even if it is painful. I’d rather spend two decades trying to carve out a place in this disheveled world, my own home amidst the ruins, than retreat into abstraction and Socratic delusion. I think a person must have the bravery or foolishness to go out into the world and live, embracing the beauty life has to offer but also finding value in the searing melancholy that always comes with it. I’ll never aspire to be any Bodhisattva, because in our greatest struggles come our highest nights, our summer night’s dreams, and our liberation through the expression of pure, raw, and visceral emotion. Let the tears stream down your face, and let the hormones overtake you. Let melancholy sink its claws into you, and allow all the rage and regret pile up like mountain peaks, casting shows and avalanches over the valleys of your soul— how can you live without pain? 

How could you ever live without pain? Would not your highest moments be meaningless? I do not love others purely because I enjoy their presence— I love them because they are the island in this life’s sea of loneliness and self-imprisonment. Yes, they should share my values, be similar to me, sure— all these things are a given, but to me, the appreciation of one another goes so much deeper than that. How could you ever appreciate the sunny tranquility of a summer day without the memory of ice and snow? How could you enjoy a spring rain if not for the images of dry, cracked, and extinguished ground laying in the back of your mind? The good things in our lives, the transcendental, Dionysian thrills that pass through our times like shooting stars— they are all punctuated by the immensity of our despair. Without the pain of this existence, what would any of the beautiful sights, music, kisses, and dreams have meant? Nothing— and that is the truth. The end of melancholy would be the death of whimsy. Imagine if we had no struggle! Imagine if we had no great war in each of our lives— that would be true nihilism! 

May 20th, 2025— The Lotus grows from dark and ugly mud, and in the same way, the highest among us are born of great struggle and the eventual triumph, however temporary, over the adversity in this life. Why have I learned to appreciate a dark age? It is because they add weight to every good moment, and they punctuate one’s existence with a certain bitter note that makes a person appreciate those few days when the sun does shine. Our greatest moments are made possible by our worst— our laughter is nourished by our tears. And what else if not for this cycle? It’s a strange thing how we yearn for cessation. How do we always wish for things to remain fixed in a single, blissful moment? Why do we wish to break the hedonic cycle? I have read the sutras, and I have flirted with the Buddhist tradition. I admire their crystal-clear sketch of reality— how we are slaves to desire, trapped in a cycle of suffering by virtue of our ignorance and attachment to the whims of this world. Still though, beyond religion, and focusing solely on a metaphysical outlook, doesn’t death guarantee us some liberation? We are all hurtling towards this great dissolution of consciousness and the ultimate end. Can’t we look forward to our end, knowing that the cycle will be broken? Can’t we then be left to find some affirmation in our short, chaotic, and Dukkha-filled lives? Maybe I lack the wisdom or the insight to see otherwise, but why can’t we view our lives as a temporary gift, painful as it is, rather than an eternal burden?

By Cal Burgess