MORALLY AMBIGUOUS

 I spend most of my days on my desk. It is smaller than the one I have back at home, but it gets the job done. Every time I look up, I see Antartica. I promise I am not going crazy, there's just a world map stuck on the wall. It's loosely taped across the edges, and I have scribbled ocean currents in blue and red. But yes, getting back to Antartica. It is a fascinating continent; it's got half the world on its surface. There is Victoria land and Roosevelt Island separated by Ross Sea. And the Japanese station on the coast named after Prince Harald of Norway. It looks like an oyster with a thick tale. That is not a piece of information that you needed but I am short on things to entertain myself, so here we are talking about Antartica. Today when I looked at Antartica, I was pulled back to the ballad "The Rime of Ancient Mariner"**. It was taught to me at 14 by a woman who loved her job a little too much. She took her time explaining each line, simplifying each word, sadly I wasn't listening. All I really remember is a sketch of a man with a bird around his neck and the guilt that showed through his eyes. The poem never came back to me until today.

I read it again, still needed help understanding few stanzas. First thoughts would be that it is too long and has scarred me enough to never step foot on a ship. After thoughts being that I had no idea that the poem was written in seven parts and over the course of a year. The imagery created by Mr. Coleridge (the writer) is fascinating and so captivating. Now the poem has become more synonymous to Penance. I seem to be stuck on the part of the poem in which the mariner goes through recuring days of unexplainable nothingness. It is an agonizing cycle of guilt, with no hope. And I hate when I do not see hope. 

There exists very little parallels between the mariner and me. We are separated by centuries. We are separated by technology. I am very sure; I am never willingly getting on a ship (the voice in my head screams Never say Never). The baggage of Guilt that both of us cannot seem to evade is what connects me and him.

Theoretically, guilt arises when Actions and Morals do not align. But for people like us who do not have a very strong moral compass stuck to them since they learnt to spell, it gets tricky. I have a lot of morals that have evolved through the years, some of it makes sense and for others I try to concoct a barely acceptable reasoning. Some morals are a result of my traditional upbringing and some I have gathered by the virtue of my education. The problem comes in when they collide. It is an ugly sight. It is also the inception of my guilt and makes me desperately wish I could abandon a part of me. I would be so much more at peace if I could just pick a lane. But a rational side of me would always argue that something so subjective can never be explained by a single theory. 

Guilt therefore is a constant companion in my life. I have made peace with it. I have made peace with the fact that just like the mariner I would have to re-tell my tale as a form of penance. I would have to revisit all the times that I have wronged myself or someone close. This journey of acceptance is going to be long, but I have hope and that keeps me going. 

Although, up until this point it all sounds gloomy that is not how I actually feel. I am quite optimistic that sooner or later I shall resolve this moral ambiguity. I shall find the principles I wish to stand for. It could be courage, honesty, optimism or anything else.  But once I do, I hope I can live by them. 

**The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” is a narrative poem in which a mariner tells a wedding guest about a harrowing voyage he once endured. The mariner’s ship sailed toward the South Pole amid “mist and snow". An albatross appeared, and the mariner shot it with a crossbow, thus cursing the crew. Deathly spirits arrive and kill all of the crew but the mariner. After drifting alone without food or water, the mariner finds the ship mysteriously borne back to land. The mariner now wanders the world, telling his tale.