'Lost': Letters from the Flame, Volume 6.2

As promised, here's Part 2 of this week's installment of "Letters from the Flame." In yesterday's edition, I addressed a variety of topics, but today's entry focuses on the birthing and raising of children in the Lost world, a topic at the front and center of the majority of Lost action these days. Moreover, it speaks to the increasing suggestion on the show that the drama we're watching not only started before the Lostaways even thought about boarding Oceanic 815, but likely started centuries earlier.

But all that in good time. Let's see what reader "Chris" wants to know.

Ryan, for "Letters from the Flame," please, pretty please with sugar on top and a sweet bing cherry with whipped cream...........answer me this:

How does Benjamin Linus go from this Island-raised boy to "Others" leader to über spy/assassin/time travellin' man? Was he trained at Richard Alpert's school for the insanely special chosen kids? How does this little man know so much about manipulation and psychology and technology? He didn't just pop out of Emily this way so, how did he learn all this stuff?

Firstly, ye needs never ask that nicely. In fact, it's vaguely off-putting. Living in Boston, I'm much more used to angry scowls and scatologically-based insults hurled me way. All this "niceness" has to end, people. No one really acts that way. Next thing you'll be telling me is that people actually smile in public. I'm not buying that for a second. But enough about Boston and onto your question.

There's a long and short way to answer your question. The short way speaks to pure plot mechanics, whereby his encounter with Richard Alpert as a child sets in motion a series of events that lead to the Purge and everything thereafter. But obviously, that's not what you're asking. I imagine you're less interested in the "how" than the "why."

As far as the formation of the Ben Linus we all know and love/hate/want to remain at least fifty feet away from at all times, I'd suggest you look at the way Michael Emerson plays the moment in "The Man Behind the Curtain" when he takes the gas mask off upon the Purge's successful completion. Watch how his body sloooooows down after a few, initial, wide-eyed, chest-heaving gasps into a man who wills himself into a position of cold-hearted, calculating authority. Everything else that followed demonstrated a mixture of innate skill, astute perception, and a moral code outside that of "normal" people.

It didn't help that he assumed control of a place replete with advanced/unusual forums for exploration/experimentation in the fields of science, psychology, and parapsychology. I've long felt that what we saw in Room 23 was "The Linus Cut," a Special Edition version, if you will, of the original video. The music might have been his idea as well, transforming a place once meant perhaps for benevolent means into a chamber in which loyalists could be programmed.

But remember, this is also a man who, as a boy, sent his beloved pet rabbit through the sonic fence to ensure that he himself did not die after entering in the code. What we see in adult Ben was always present, on some level, in his psyche. But his encounter with Alpert as a child merely augmented and honed a side that might have been more dormant under different circumstances. This is what he means when he tells people over and over again how he was born on the Island. He's both lying and telling the truth at once. While he was biologically produced just outside of Portland, Oregon, he was truly Born on the Island.

Speaking of unusual births, let's hear from reader "A-Rob" about the pattern that emerges in the aftermath.

Why can't the "chosen ones" be raised by their true parents? Starting with Ben, his mother died as soon as he was born and he never had a good relationship with his father. Then, Locke is raised by adoptive parents. Throw in Walt being separated from Michael both pre- and post crash, and Aaron without Claire, and a pattern starts to form. What's up with that?

Zap2It reader Jeff has it right when he says that the figure of the "orphan" is a staple not only of literature as a whole, but specifically the hero myth in particular. Moses, Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter...all orphans, "raised by another," to quote the aptly named Claire-centric episode from Season 1. As such, the hero's journey is marked by the absence of birth parents, and during the quest to discover the identity of their parents, discover their own true nature and, by extension, their destiny.

That's obviously a simplistic way to sum up "The Hero with a Thousand Faces," but Joseph Campbell literally wrote the book on this stuff decades ago. The suggestion is that myths from various cultures all adhere to a similar pattern, one that could not have simply derived from the cross-pollination of different cultures, but rather independently developed from one another. This makes the similarities between these archetypal myths that much more fascination. Rather than springing from a cultural meme, it arose seemingly from one central source tapped into by all walks of life.

Having typed out that insanely pretentious paragraph, let's take this "monomyth," as Campbell calls it, and literally spell it out. (Well, type it out, really, if you're being literal.)

A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.

What's interesting is how Lost seemingly embraced this model, and then COMPLETELY went against the grain. In this monomyth, there are many variations, but quite often three distinct stages: departure, initiation, and return. The first details the venturing forth on the quest, which in Lost might be truly demarcated by the now infamous "Live together, die alone" speech from "White Rabbit." Initiation is everything from that moment until Jack makes contact with Minkowski at the end of Season 3, which SHOULD start the phase of return. Only, in the case of Lost, the act of return is in fact the undoing of everything.

The Oceanic 6 are in some ways a direct mockery of the monomyth, with the return phase marked by regret, death, overwhelming guilt, and a realization that what was perceived to be the return was in fact still part of the initiation. Jack's assertion that they "have to go back" is his realization regarding his part in the overall mythology, the errors he's committed along the way, and his frustration at not being able to reinsert himself back into the storyline. Then again, Jack's...well, he's Jack. Which maybe means that he's once again completely freakin' wrong about what to do. Maybe it's not himself that needs to go back; it's Aaron, the now-orphan. (See how I tied all that back? I know, smooth operator. Just call me Sade.)

Let's now go a bit further into the deep end of the pool (or off the deep end, depending on your perspective) and combine the hero-myth with a figure the show alluded to in "Cabin Fever": the tuklu, a Buddhist lama who is reborn generation after generation in order to fulfill what's known as the Bodhisattva vow. I've been reading up on tuklus and Bodhisattva vows since "Cabin Fever" aired, and trust me, I'm far from an expert. In fact, I will more than likely misapply what I've learned. But I've hopefully gleaned enough to see where Lost might be going with Alpert's "Drawing of the Three" scene, couple it with "The Hero with a Thousand Faces," and lead you all into nirvana. Or at the very least, the next paragraph.

The heroic journey and Bodhisattva vows are similar in that they both seek enlightenment for the purpose of aiding/educating others. Here's a translation of The Four Great Vows:

I vow to liberate all beings, without number
I vow to uproot endless blind passions
I vow to penetrate dharma gates beyond measure
I vow to attain the way of the Buddha

If that doesn't sound like the modus operandi for The Dharma Initiative, I don't know what does. An organization conceived in order to bring enlightenment to the world through scientific research in a unique location able to provide a proper for results "beyond measure"...sounds about right, no?

The trick, however, is balancing the good of all against the desires of self, and this struggle has played out over decades, centuries, perhaps millennia on and around the Island. The sides we currently see fighting over control over the island both miss the point entirely, giving in to those "endless blind passions" that have corrupted all who have come before. And why? Because in the show itself are various tuklus, entities that have reappeared throughout history, betrothed and/or betrayed by the Island.

Richard's search for the Island savior is the most direct sign the show's given that such entities are in play. There have been hints of the Island's history, through hieroglyphics, statues, and slave ships. But what we haven't really keyed into until now is the notion that this struggle we've watched for the past four seasons is but one small sliver amidst a lengthy feud between two sides fueled not only by the same passions, but in many ways, by the same people.

Lately, I've been obsessed with applying the board game Risk to the world of Lost, but it's time I went back to the basics and looked at backgammon as another way in which to illustrate the tuklu orphan phenomenon at work here.

LOCKE: Backgammon is the oldest game in the world. Archeologists found sets when they excavated the ruins of ancient Mesopotamia. Five thousand years old. That's older than Jesus Christ.

WALT: Did they have dice and stuff?

LOCKE [nods]: Mhhm. But theirs weren't made of plastic. Their dice were made of bones

WALT: Cool.

LOCKE: Two players. Two sides. One is light... one is dark.

Whether or not this was intended at the time, this snippet of dialogue might accurately describe both the nature and length of conflict on the Island, with two players/tuklus in a five thousand year struggle, constantly perpetuating the battle via their own moral code/ Bodhisattva vow. But here's the kicker: both sides think they are the light and the other is the dark. Both fashion themselves the hero in this particular care. They are, to paraphrase Benjamin Linus, the good guy. Ever trying to destroy the other. Ever failing. But ever trying.

So there you have it: The Tuklu Orphan Theory of Lost. Possibly the least catchy titled theory ever, but hopefully worth your consideration all the same.

Your turn, campers...what do you make of the war over the Island? Long-fought battle, or recent skirmish?  What can we glean from the births of Ben, Locke, and Aaron in terms of the show's mythology? And who, ultimately, is the hero of this show?

Ryan also posts every 108 minutes over at Boob Tube Dude.