LOST: JACOB HAVE I LOVED PART 2

We've been re-watching different seasons of Lost in preparation for the final season starting Feb 2nd. It's very interesting to go back and watch episodes from the past with the knowledge you have now...you see things that you didn't see before. Some of it may be come into play, some of it may not. It will be interesting to see.

When I wrote the first part of this post, I asked a lot of questions, hoping to spark some debate. This time I'm going to give you what I think could be some answers...although I'm probably wrong about most of them.

Here goes...

I believe that the main thrust of Lost is : Predestination VS Free Will. It is a question that has tormented mankind from the start of recorded time. If you go back to my first post and read the passage from the Bible in Romans Chapter 9, you get one part of God's answer to the debate: God chooses who He chooses. That leads most people to believe that predestination rules all...that we have no true free will. I have never agreed with that...not completely anyway. Go and read the book of Esther in the Old Testament, in particular chapter 4 verses 11-17. According to that passage, the outcome, IE Israel's being saved, is predetermined. It's going to happen. However...who gets the credit for saving Israel is up in the air. It could go to Esther...it will definitely go to someone else if she doesn't act...but it's also possible that others have already passed on the opportunity to save Israel. Esther acts...she is given the credit. She chose to risk her life. She didn't choose to be Jewish. She was chosen, by God, to be part of His family. Keep that in mind.

What am I saying, then? That Lost, like the Bible, teaches that we are predestined to be on one side or the other, but what we do on that side is up to us? That although the final outcome is already fixed, those who get credit is still up in the air? That we have total free will in our choices in how we serve?

Yes...and no.

Consider the case of Jonah. Told by God to be the first missionary. His message to the people of Nineveh? You suck, and God is going to kill you...all of you. Great job. No wonder he bails and tries to get away. But, does God let Jonah choose not to serve? Hell no! That God guy is pretty damn persuasive when He wants to be. Storms, big fish swallowing Jonah, puked on the beach...now, Jonah still had his free will. God, however, persuaded Jonah to go anyway. Why? Couldn't God get someone else to go? Of course He could. God chose to have Jonah go. Again the question is why?

If we are chosen...if the final outcome is already set...then what is the purpose of this life? I liken it to boot camp. A lot of people try and get on the job. Very few make it to the Academy. A lot of those that do make it quit. The DIs stress you out, because they know what kinds of situations you are going to face. They want you to be as prepared as possible. It's rough, but if you make it through you are ready for the job.

Now, on to LOST...

Who is the Man In Black? I'm going to go with Esau...Jacob's brother. He was the one who should have gotten the birthright and the blessing. He sold his birthright to Jacob for a pot of stew (remember Jacob in LOST offers MIB some food, which MIB sarcastically declines). Jacob cheats Esau out of the blessing. (I don't know that we've seen that on the show yet...however, that could be what is going on between them on and off the island)

MIB, Esau, decries the fact that he wasn't "chosen". Not his fault. If only he could do it over again, he'd do it differently. So, like a game of backgammon, they continue to play...using people like pieces. Moving them forward. Having them taken out of play. Putting them back in play farther back on the board. Jacob believes the outcome is determined, no matter what moves MIB makes. Even coming back as another player! His loophole. Jacob has foreseen this move. He has brought people to the island to counter MIB's move...not only in this time, but back in 1977. One group or the other can change the playing field. Perhaps both.

What does that make of our players? Pawns in a giant chess game, being moved against their will? Or, willing participants without knowing a game is even being played?

Are they Esthers? Or are they Jonahs? Or both?

For some, coming back to the island is the only thing they want to do. Others must be persuaded. In the end, they all come back...only to be divided upon return. Why?

What is the island? I believe, I hope, that it is the Gate to the afterlife, to Tartaros, and not Tartaros itself. Eden, Paradise on one side...and torment on the other. It was guarded on one side only...only one way in. No way out. Those who have crossed are the whispers. They can on occasion be seen, like Samuel the prophet by King Saul. But, for the most part, they are in the shadows...heard but not seen.

There are many alternate theories, of course. One involves true time travel...by aliens...from a planet that orbits our Sun every 3600 years. This theory would have Jacob and MIB be two of those aliens who have been left behind. Playing a game that they started back during the time of the Sumerian kings. (Sumer should be pronounced SHumer, or...Shem-er) They were considered gods by the people of their time. All of them went back to their planet the last time it was close...3600 years ago. And now...the planet is coming back...

They're coming...

Just food for thought.

Guest Blogger: LACY BLAKE

Of all the things I love in life, here is what I love the most: Mom's holiday or just for the hell of it chocolate chip cookies. Rocket's breathing slowly in and out putting me to sleep. Open conversation. Holding hands. Smiling. Going to the park very early or very late when no one else is there and swinging. Not thinking, just swinging. Feeling like if I closed my eyes and let go I would continue flying and never have to stop. I love the rain. It's home. The gentle pittering and pattering on the roofs or the windows puts me completely at ease. I love my family. My Mama. My Daddy. I miss him. I miss her too, but I talk to her everyday. I can't talk to him or I get sad and homesick. I hope he doesn't think it's because I don't miss him. I often worry that it does. Nobody holds you like Daddy holds you. Nobody smiles, laughs, smells, looks, plays, talks, dresses, dances, or makes you feel safe like Daddy does. God, I miss him. We can get so mad at eachother, and he's still one of the things in this world I love more than anything. Like a hand print on my heart. For good. I love homecooked food. Christmas icicle lights. Being bundeled up, and being able to see your breath when you talk. I love snuggling. Being close. I love sharing things with someone you couldn't possibly share with someone else. I love that trust. I love comforting arms telling you "It's okay." when it really isn't. Arms that hold you when you need them. I love the security that I feel in those arms. I love performing. I love not having to be myself. To escape the boundaries this world puts on me and being someone I am not. I love to make people feel I love to get so caught up in the moment I leave myself and can hardly remember what I'm doing. I love to be free. I hate that through all of this that for everything I've come up with that I love I can come up with two things that I don't.

The end haha

I'm starting to fall in love with writing. You were right.

THE BITCH

Early, 1982. I'm going through the Sheriff's Academy. My leg is already for shit. I went and asked the deputy that led PT if there was anything I could do to help it. The guy was in his early fifties. Six months earlier, he'd had heart surgery...and then he's leading all three classes(junior, senior, and reserves at night) in PT. Every day. So, like I said, I ask him if there's anything I can do about my leg. The guy was a stud. If anyone would know, it would be him. His response:

It's just these pussy three mile runs we're going on right now. Once we get up to a man sized run, like six, eight miles or so, your legs will stretch out...mine do the same thing right now. You'll be fine.

They said if you could walk, you could run. I could walk...and I was highly motivated.

The day after I asked him about it, my DI came up to me during the daily run. Right along side. Just looked at me for a while. Then he asks me:

Your leg botherin' you, Wonder Bread?

Sir, No Sir!

Then don't be botherin' my PT instructor again. You got that?

Sir, Yes Sir!

We had a routine for PT everyday. Stretch. Push-ups. Sit-ups. Run. We started at three miles. We were at four then. Working our way up to twelve. At the end of each run, we'd slow to a walk in the parking lot. Two laps. Then into the gym for stress-recovery-stress:25 seconds of as many push-ups as you could do, followed immediately by 25 seconds of as many sit-ups as you could do, followed by 25 seconds of as many three count squat thrusts as you could do, and finally, 25 seconds of as many jumping jacks as you could do.

Then you got a 30 second rest...and did it all over at 20 seconds. Then fifteen.

By the twelfth week we were doing 60 seconds, 55, and 50. It didn't matter who you were. It didn't matter how great of shape you were in. If you gave it everything you had during stress-recovery-stress, you were done when it was over. Couldn't even lift your arms over your head to take your shirt off before your shower. Your buddy had to do it for you, and vice-versa. And, you only got five minutes to get out of your PT gear, shower, and be back in uniform in formation.

That two lap walk to cool down at the end of the run was huge. You really needed it.

Starting that day, I no longer got it.

In 1982, the Los Angeles Sheriff's Academy was located at Biscailuz Center in East LA. It's set on a hill. Every day, at the start of our run, we would head out of the parking lot down a serpentine road. On the final turn you looked up and saw what we affectionately referred to as, "The Bitch." It was a road that ran up a hill bordering the Jails on the west, the freeway on the east, and Sybil Brand women's jail on the north. It went up at about a forty-five degree angle for over a hundred yards, leveled for about ten, and then went up again at an even steeper angle for another hundred and fifty or so. There was a gate at the top of the hill, connecting Biscailuz with Sybil Brand. The gate was unlocked by a DI when we got there, and locked behind us after we went through.

Every time.

It was a security risk. That's why it had to be a DI to unlock it...and a DI to make sure it was locked behind us.

Every time.

But something changed that day. We get in the parking lot. Cool down walk time. Psyching up for stress-recovery-stress. My DI comes up to me as we're marching.

Cadet Blake!

Sir, Yes Sir!

I don't think DI Massey locked the gate after we went through. I need someone to check it and make sure...you just volunteered...GO!

Cocksucking, ball-licking, punk ass bitch motherfucker...I said that to myself, of course...as I took off down the serpentine road. The Bitch was waiting for me when I turned the last curve. Smiling at me. Whispering. Telling me, in a very soothing voice, to just quit now. There was no way I could do it...and even if I did, I'd never make it through stress-recovery-stress after that anyway. Just quit.

Her voice was soft and cool. Silky against my heart. Seductive.

I told her to go fuck herself, and started up the hill.

I don't know how I made it up there that first time. I tried to keep my head down. Not look. When I finally did look up, I wasn't even halfway. I could feel my knee swelling. Grapefruit size by now. And the Bitch kept whispering sweet nothings into my ear...or was it the wind? Or my own tortured soul...

I finally made it to the top. The gate, of course, was locked. Tighter than Massey's sphincter. I turned around and headed back down.

They were kind enough to wait for me in the gym. Very thoughtful. My DI didn't want me to miss out on the full Academy experience. By the time we were done, I could barely walk. My knee was the size of a cantaloupe. But I didn't limp. Got showered. Waited for EOW. When we were dismissed for the day, I went to the soda machines. I hate sodas. But I was hurting. I bought two Squirts. Drank one on the way to my car. Nursed the other while I sat there and smoked. Tears ran down my face from the pain. I couldn't bend my leg because of the swelling. I thanked God for getting me through it. I thanked Him it was a one time thing.

I didn't hear Him laughing.

Next day we're walking our laps after the run. Here comes my DI.

Cadet Blake!

Sir, Yes Sir!

I don't think DI Massey locked the gate after we went through...

And off I went again. Cursing him under my breath. Cursing God. Cursing the Bitch. Cursing the sweet whispers...

Everyday after that, the same thing. We started with over two hundred people. We lost sixty-five by the end of the second week. More each week after that. By the sixth week, people started to get the handle on things. Everyone but me. I was still checking the gate. By this point, we were up to about six and a half to seven miles on the run. My knee...well, it didn't look good. Still, I kept making it.

And the Bitch kept try to seduce me.

Seventh week. We're walking in the parking lot. I'm waiting for my DI. All of a sudden, they take the class back up to running speed. They start everyone down the serpentine road. The class turned the corner...and looked up at the Bitch.

Half of the class quit before we ever started going up. Just quit. Almost all of the rest quit within the first fifty yards. When we got to the half way point where it leveled off, there were only three other cadets still running besides me. My DI was waiting there for us. He turned the other three back around and sent them down. He smiled at me.

Check the gate, Blake.

Sir, Yes Sir!

And I did.

I'd like to tell you it stopped after that. I'd also like to tell you that I look like George Clooney, but unfortunately, my pictures on the blog. So, I won't lie about either one.

I had people after me while I was going through the Academy. Two DIs in particular. My DI wasn't one of the two.

I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't been running up the Bitch all of those weeks, I would have dropped just like most of the others. That would have been all either of those two DIs would have needed. But, because I'd been doing it, it was no big deal to me.

Don't get me wrong. I never liked it. It always hurt. I almost always cried in pain before I went home. But, it didn't beat me. They didn't beat me. I made it. And, I'm not certain that I would have...if I hadn't been put through the shit first.

We all go through things in our lives. Some, much worse than others. We all have our own version of the Bitch. It's hard to think about it being to your benefit as your running up it...when your legs ache...when you have the dry heaves...when you think you can't take even one more step...and you know that stress-recovery-stress is waiting for you...if you make it.

James chapter one does NOT say that the testing of your faith works patience. Bad translation. The Greek word is for Endurance. Patience is passive. Endurance isn't. It's work. It makes you stronger.

God wants you to be as strong as you need to be for what's coming. He's not doing you any favors letting you sit on the couch eating Bon-Bons if you have a marathon coming.

And this life isn't just a marathon. It's an obstacle course, gauntlet, marathon. And God wants you to do more than finish.

He wants you to win.

You get down when you're running up the Bitch. You get angry. Frustrated. Mad at God. That's all OK. It's normal. But, you don't have to run alone. We're running together. So, when your sucking wind...and you don't think you can take another step...talk to God...and yes, cussing Him out is still talking...you aren't going to shock Him. He expects it.

Then call up a Buddy. Go have a beer together. Howl at the moon together.

Don't run alone.

You can always talk to God.

And, you can always talk to me.

We'll beat that Bitch.

Together.

Human Cockroaches

Cockroaches are disgusting. They'll

do almost anything to survive. A cockroach can live for up to a week after its head has been cut off. Most cockroaches are nocturnal and only come out at night. Any sign of light and they scurry away.

Human cockroaches are far worse. Once they take an interest in you or your family, they can't seem to ever let it go. They hide in the shadows and do everything surreptitiously. They live off of others, mainly through causing pain and suffering. They have no feelings for anyone or anything but themselves. They are filthy, vile, heartless and cruel. And, they are cowards.

The one main difference between the insect and the human varieties?

The human cockroach can't live for up to a week without its head.

I have had trouble recently with a couple of human cockroaches. They think they are clever. Smart. They believe they have been able to keep what they have done, and are doing, in the dark.

They're wrong. The evil deeds of these human cockroaches always come to light.