Exploring the Idea of Epiphany - Essay Example

Your Number 15 May 2007 A Flash of Comprehension When we consider the word epiphany, we usually imagine a situation in which a character comes into some earth-shattering knowledge, perhaps divinely inspired, often following tremendous upheaval. The story of Moses and the burning bush could be considered epiphany, as is Oedipus's realization of just who exactly his wife is, and the identity of the man he killed on the road so many years earlier. In both cases, the realizations have the power of transformation. Moses is changed from an outcast into a leader, while Oedipus transforms from a leader to an outcast. However, epiphany need not require an overwhelming new understanding of divinity, tragedy, of death. It can reflect any fresh and instant understanding that impacts the character's life. In the works of James Joyce and Robert Frost, we can see small epiphanies, knowledge with internal and personal consequence, yet possessing the power to change a character's world. In James Joyce's short story, "Araby," the young boy lives a drab and nearly colorless life. It is only the presence of Mangan's sister that provides illumination to his world. He is literally ensconced in the shadows whenever he sees her, "her figure defined by the light" (Joyce 2236) To the young boy, she is the very definition of light, "her namea summons to all my foolish blood" (Joyce 2237). This is the beginning of the narrator's understanding about the human condition, the call of a grown-up desire. Although he does not quite know how to talk to the girl, or what he should do with her if he could earn her love, he knows that she elicits in him certain sensations that transcend his experience with his family or friends. First, he learns to love, and his amorphous dreams about her color his burgeoning adult understanding. From an irresistible vision, she becomes something heavenly, evoking "strange prayers and praises" (Joyce 2237). In his mind, he becomes a supplicant to her beauty, and his emotions take on a religious fervor. With the attitude of a religious devout, "I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: O love! O love! many times" (Joyce 2237). He is here placing beauty on an altar and worshipping it from afar. He does this because he is still a child, and the girl, while real, does not constitute a tangible reality to him. Love is exotic and indescribable, like god. The narrator tells us several times that he has no notion of how to act on his feelings. He says, "I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration" (Joyce 2237). She is, for the time being, a principle rather than an intention. He can feel, but not respond. When she finally speaks to him, her simple words only confirm his previous assumptions. Again, we see her as the only bright thing in a drab world, as "the light from the lampcaught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hairlit up the hand upon the railing. Itcaught the white border of her petticoat" (Joyce 2237). It is significant that she speaks of Araby, the exotic-seeming bazaar; for the boy, the very word, "cast an Eastern enchantment" (Joyce 2238) just as the girl's name "was like a summons to all my foolish blood" (Joyce 2237). These both constitute surface understandings; the narrator's perception does not run deep because he has not yet learned to see beneath the exterior of things. In terms of the girl, he has seen no deeper than the hem of her petticoat, which is just as white and perfect as the rest of her visible surfaces. Of Araby, he knows even less, only that the object of his desire "would love to go." This all leads to the narrator's moment of epiphany, when he finally achieves the goal of Araby, which seems to him the key to the puzzle he doesn't quite understand. Once he experiences the bazaar, he feels he will finally have something to say to the girl, as well as something to give her. He will be able to translate his inexpressible feelings into something tangible: a gift, a story. This feeling lasts through his arrival at the "building which displayed the magical name" (Joyce 2239). From that moment on, the magic disappears. He has arrived so late that most of the bazaar has already closed; in the emptiness, he heard neither music nor magic, but "two men counting money" (Joyce 2239). The goods for sale do not interest him, nor can he afford them, and the insipid banter between the lady and the men shows a new side to the relation between the sexes. Joyce reveals the boy's epiphany in the last sentence. Although he sustained himself on hope and the promise of magic, he now sees himself "as a creature driven and derided by vanity" (Joyce 2240). His world is a world of drab grays, his hopes for romance have been squelched as ridiculous, and he must return now to a world of darkness. He will never see the girl with the same brilliant light; she will be forever entwined in his mind with the false splendor of the bazaar. As adults, readers can experience his understanding with pity. The world is a dark and unforgiving place; happiness cannot be purchased in a marketplace. This is a lesson that is all too real, and the age at which it is learned has a strong bearing on our relationships with ourselves, our environment, and our community. The boy in the story will no longer be fooled by surface appearances and romantic ideals; he will become a bitter realist, skeptical of beauty. We see a similar, but more intense kind of disconnect between reality and emotion in Robert Frost's "Home Burial." In this instance, the dialog is between a married couple who have lost their child. The reader gets the sense that things have not been right between them since that time. The wife spends her days brooding from the window from which she can see the grave, and when she is overwhelmed, she leaves the house. The husband does not know where she goes or to whom she talks. He too, grieves for the loss of his child, but his wife cannot accept his grief. She sees his every word as insensitive, tells him "you don't know how to speak" (Frost "Home Burial") and accuses him of having no feelings, when, in reality, his feelings are quite strong. However, as a man, he expresses himself differently than she does. When the wife says, "Friends make pretense of following to the grave, But before one is in it, their minds are turned" (Frost "Home Burial") she is suggesting that her love for the baby was so great that she herself must remain spiritually in the grave with the child. This should be epiphany, but the husband doesn't understand; he thinks that once she has expressed these thoughts, she should return to him in the real world. For his part, he must not only mourn the death of his child. He is now mourning the loss of his wife, who has disconnected herself from him. His line, "I'm cursed. God, if I don't believe I'm cursed" (Frost "Home Burial") expresses the bitterness as he comes to his own understanding. Although he suffered as much as she did, and possible suffered more through the act of digging the grave than she did watching him dig it, she will now condemn him for simply being able to do it. In her mind, this indicates an utter lack of feeling. For the man, it was the greatest act of respect and mourning. All he knows is that both the people he loved are gone. In "Home Burial," the epiphany comes in pieces. The man first comes to understand what it is the woman is looking at out the window: "The wonder is I didn't see it at once. I never noticed it from here before. I must be wonted to it--that's the reason. The little graveyard where my people are!" (Frost "Home Burial"). To the woman, this confirms his lack of feeling. Then she reveals the size of the gap between them, that she has moved away from him ever since she saw him digging the grave. She cannot see into his soul, and he cannot express his feelings as she does, so she takes the placement of his spade and his own remarks about destruction as signs of heartlessness. At the very end of the poem, as the wife opens the door, the husband has the first part of his final epiphany when he notices, "There's someone coming down the road!" (Frost "Home Burial"). Whatever this relationship was before the death, it is over now. The woman cannot discuss her feelings with her husband, and cannot hear his feelings without judging them. The figure coming down the road suggests an intentional split: there is something between the man and woman now besides the baby's death. She has abandoned him in her thoughts. However, the revelation belongs, at this point, to the reader. The man is not prepared to let her go so easily, and vows, "I'll follow and bring you back by force. I will" (Frost "Home Burial"). Full understanding will only come for him later, when he realizes that there is no physical way to reunite with her emotionally. This is another important kind of epiphany, and "Home Burial" is a poem that cleverly reveals all sorts of hidden information about the relationship and the two states of mind of the couple. However, epiphany need not reflect a terrible loss, or come after tragedy, as we can see in Frost's "The Road Not Taken." This short and popular poem captures a moment in time when the narrator is confronted with "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood" (Frost "The Road" 1153) and must choose which one to take. He appraises them both and notices that they are basically the same, although one is "grassy and wanted wear" (Frost "The Road" 1153). He takes this road, knowing he will probably never have a chance to explore the other. It's a small epiphany in this piece, but one that seems to come as soon as he makes his decision. He thinks, "I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence" (Frost "The Road" 1153) suggesting that the decision has come to have great bearing on his mind the moment it is made. There is a sense of loss surrounding the road he passed up, and opportunities and possibilities it might represent. However, he has gleaned some knowledge about himself based on the decision he did make: "I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference" (Frost "The Road" 1153). This is the plight of the artist, to realize that the well-trod path might have been easier or friendlier, and yet to understand that the less-traveled path is rightly his. It is freely chosen, and symbolizes the life of the artist, or any outsider who makes choices for him or herself rather than choosing what is common. This is an epiphany for many artists even today. Frost seems to be urging readers to make their own decisions, and to accept the consequences. The path less traveled by is not necessarily a simple path to take, but it suggests a wealth of options unavailable to the mainstream. All innovators must eventually come to this revelation, or they fail to innovate. Epiphany, as we see, need not represent some massive vision affecting an entire nation. It can be personal and small. Regular people come to new understanding every day. It might be the knowledge of falling in love, or the knowledge that love has ended. It can manifest as an understanding of what must be done, or what must not be done. Anytime an individual grasps new knowledge that changes how he or she makes decisions or views the world, this is a form of epiphany. We read literature to understand ourselves better; seeing characters in flux learn new and true appraisals shows us that we too can change and grow, as characters in stories must, if their stories are to be readable and interesting. Works Cited Frost, Robert. "The Road Not Taken." The Heath Anthology of American Literature 3rd Edition Volume 2. Paul Lauter. (Ed.). New York: Houghton Mifflin. 1998. ---. "Home Burial." Poets.org. Robert Frost. 9 May 2007 < http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15730>. Joyce, James. "Araby." The Norton Anthology of English Literature 7th Edition Volume 2. M. H. Abrams. (Ed.). New York: Norton. 2000. 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