Doubt as sin. — Christianity has done its utmost to close the circle and declared even doubt to be sin. One is supposed to be cast into belief without reason, by a miracle, and from then on to swim in it as in the brightest and least ambiguous of elements: even a glance towards land, even the thought that one perhaps exists for something else as well as swimming, even the slightest impulse of our amphibious nature — is sin! And notice that all this means that the foundation of belief and all reflection on its origin is likewise excluded as sinful. What is wanted are blindness and intoxication and an eternal song over the waves in which reason has drowned.
To own something and not be aware of it could not only be annoying, but fatal too. That is why most people had all the time but did nothing with it. They died leaving behind no invention or product that they could be remembered for.
It doesn’t matter how long you live on planet earth, if by the time your whole life has evaporated, you have not solved the problems you were created to solve, then you wasted your life.
Though not everything is so easy in doing, ponder before you say something is far difficult to do! When you think of the difficulty in getting it done, think and think again; you may have spent the same time you should have used for the utmost preparations that could have made the difficulty you look at but cannot see the panacea on something else, or you are not finding the necessary time, wit, courage, tenacity and the will power to release your whole and true self to master the very act and art of making difficult things easier!
But once, in his anger, Aidan had asked me whether I thought I had wasted my life, and I had told him no. No, I had not. But I had been wrong. And Tom Cardle has been right. For I had known everything, right from the start, and never acted on any of it. I had blocked it from my mind time and again, refused to recognize what was staring me in the face. I had said nothing when I should have spoken out, convincing myself that I was a man of higher character. I had been complicit in all their crimes, and people had suffered because of me. I had wasted my life. I had wasted every moment of my life. And the final irony was that it had taken a convicted pedophile to show me that in my silence, I was just as guilty as the rest of them.