How do you accurately translate a word? Every language, over countless centuries, has evolved and conformed to best communicate the unique cultural ideas that its speakers embody. While you may be able to communicate the meaning of a word on a very literal level, once you consider the cultural significance forged into it across thousands of generations, the seemingly simple task of translation appears to grow exponentially, and we come to realize that, contrary to popular belief, a word is worth a thousand pictures.

An example, from the language of my family, is the word "philòtimo." On a very literal level, this word could be said to express many things: living with honor, loyalty to your community, and responsible citizenship, amongst other things. While it does express these things, the meaning with which it has been imbued via its significance to Hellenic culture is much more difficult to convey; it is less a linguistic barrier and more of a cultural one. For one speaker of the Greek language to convey the word's meaning to another Greek speaker who did not grow up in a culture so ingrained with the values of philòtimo would be just as challenging as explaining it in any other language. A Greek child is not only told but shown, from early childhood, that philòtimo is crucial to living a rich and fulfilling life. They learn that the world they love was built on a foundation forged of the principles of philòtimo. And their mentors and idols are said to embody those same principles. They learn the word by living it, developing such an emotionally intricate, definitionally nuanced, and culturally rooted understanding of the word that exact translation becomes impossible.

For another example, let's take the word "death". Yes, death. The most undesirable state. The single most potent manifestation of the 'fear of the unknown' which is so biologically ingrained in us. Growing up in my cultural landscape, the word conjures up images of malicious skeletons and ghosts. Scary campfire stories and movies. Feelings of despair and fear and mourning. Unknown horrors and dread. But even something as seemingly absolute as death can have drastically varying connotations across cultures. The sentiment of death may evoke celebratory memories of loved ones long gone, or bring about feelings of anticipated liberation from this plane of existence. In The Labyrinth of Solitude, Mexican poet Octavio Paz tells us that “To the people of New York, Paris, or London, "death" is a word that is never pronounced because it burns the lips. The Mexican, however, frequents it, jokes about it, caresses it, sleeps with it, celebrates it; it is one of his favorite toys and most steadfast love.” And as such, while Mexico’s muerte may translate to ‘death’ in English, muerte is certainly difficult to reconcile with the death I have always known.

It may seem quite lonely to think that the words of our culture are ours alone and that sharing with the world, with absolute emotional precision, how they make us feel and believe and love and despair is near impossible, but perhaps it's reassuring to think that all cultures have a unique perspective to offer each other; a thousand more pictures to accompany the words we’ve always known.