At first, I was half-considering taking out the neglected Merriam Webster from the bookshelf that has probably never seen the light of day. Then, I supposed I would make my way from the 'a's to the 'z's. But let’s be honest. That is unrealistic, even before factoring in my permanent indolence. On the other hand, it wasn’t like I had a word in store, so I decided that it was better to sleep on it for a bit. Then I did what came as second nature. I closed my laptop and plugged on my earphones. One Taylor Swift song later, it hit me in such a natural way that I supposed you could almost say that it was an-Epiphany.

As defined by Merriam-Webster (ever so reliable), an epiphany is a moment in which you suddenly see or understand something in a new or very clear way. I need to clear something up first. I’m not trying to pick a fight with a dictionary, nor am I questioning its integrity. (I mean, have you seen the size of that thing? Usually never one to fat-shame a book, but she’s a mammoth.)

But my point is that while the official definition is technically correct, the dictionary alone can't fully capture the emotions the word evokes, which is arguably just as substantial. And that is the true beauty of language. It can't be understood by just a singular definition, nor an android-Google Translated version. The power of words truly is a universal concept. They can do essentially anything. So much crucial depth can’t be translated into any other language without the cultural jargon and background lost in the process. (This goes for both Korean and English words.) I suppose in an ironic twist of fate, it’s more than what words (themselves included) can convey. Even as I’m writing this whole essay, I’m struggling to find the right words to perfectly get my point across.

Epiphany is the greatest gift imaginable, especially in the confusing times of today. In the face of a worldwide pandemic, every single day seems so unpredictable yet monotonous. The duality is almost impressive. We constantly search for dead-ended answers to impossible problems, dreaming of clarity in a world plagued by anarchy and misinformation. I think Ms. Swift puts it much more eloquently. "Just a single glimpse of relief, to make some sense of what you've seen."

I’d also like to mention the complexity of the word. It's simultaneously the moment when the pitch-black terror seems to swallow you whole, and the gasp for air as you lift your head from the waters. In this delicate moment, it’s not as simple as choosing to sink or swim. Rather, I think it’s about letting the storm engulf you, washing away everything that used to cut you like shrapnel, leaving behind all your explosive emotions into the ocean. The final build-up results in feelings of awe and wonder. An epiphany seems to me, basically a cartoonish lightbulb moment. But an epiphany is more of a serene sort of realization, at least for me. Unlike eureka, this feeling isn't always a positive experience. Why? You might ask. How could realization be a bad thing? Well, some say self-awareness is a curse in disguise. Moreover, in the case of an epiphany, it's intricately laced with regret, melancholy, and numbness, in general. It’s often the simplicity of the moment that catches you off guard. Not everything has to be an instant success or gratification. I like the word even more because I’m not a big fan of bursts of dramatic brilliance (ahem, looking at you, eureka), so epiphany earns points from me for its tranquility and honesty.

As someone only starting to navigate her teenage years (and feeling like I’m going to drive off the road at any given minute), I’m certain that my appreciation for epiphany will increase day by day. And I hope that one day, I can be a person to whom epiphany is an intimate concept. Not so much that I no longer feel grateful for those experiences, but a person who knows the value of these revelations.