I just watched it again yesterday and I'm ready to go on record: This, after the finale, was my favorite episode of LOST. This one episode explains EVERYTHING.
The real mother was stoned by the island mother after she snubbed the darker twin and refused to name him. Later the island mother admitted that if she had let the woman live, she would have taken the boys to her people and they would have become bad. She has a negative view of people, this island mother. "Because they're people, and that's what people do. They come, they destroy, they corrupt, and it always ends the same." She also seems to know that the dark-haired twin leans toward the sinister, as she explains "Jacob isn't like you, he doesn't know how to lie," and "you're . . . special."
Since Jacob ends up being the one to eventually guard the island, and since he admits to Richard that he wants people to be able to help themselves (believing people are good at heart), he seems to have more faith in humanity than his mother and brother.
When she first shows the boys the light, it's bright enough to take up the entire cave and spill out onto the surrounding water and rocks in the stream. By the time Jack gets there, it's much, much smaller. If this means anything, it probably means that through time, the power and beauty (life, death, rebirth, etc.) that she described has been diminished by evil. She called the light
the source, something that each man had a little of inside. The source of the souls of mankind? Have our souls diminished in brightness over the years? In
The Howling Man, Serling put in a bit about how having the devil out and about, free to roam the world resulted in the unleashing of massive, widespread evil that brought disaster and world wars--things humanity couldn't have managed without the Devil's help. Might the light have lessened because the inhabitants of the island were corrupting and destroying? Might the fertility on the island have gone away for the same reason?
The island mother leveled the dark twin's people when he showed her his makeshift donkey wheel being built in what would become The Orchid Station. Maybe later, Jacob had to do the same kind of thing (the purge) when the Dharma folks were getting too close to the light (the donkey wheel in The Orchid, the business in building The Swan, etc.) and order Richard to gas them all in order to protect the light. They were getting too greedy, curiosity killed the cat? God made that flood rain down on everyone for a similar reason, right?
Island mother was a weaver. She pulled strings. The dark twin said to Jacob, "it's easy for you, looking down at us from above." Jacob was able to touch humans and alter them somehow. He was the knower of things, he wasn't physically present when Jack crashed into the bamboo fields, but he knew that it happened. He was able to know of things happening off-island (Sawyer's parents, Kate's decent into the world of crime beginning with the lunch box, etc.)
I know, go ahead and jump on me, but I think the island was literally the source of man, and the island's keepers were what we have come to know as God. The beginning of land and life didn't come to be in a blink, but it
became. The keeper wasn't a super power but a human being. The island had been moved, probably many times, once the donkey wheel started spinning and the people figured it out. This could explain the polar bears, or the fact that the exit from the donkey wheel was in Tunisia (proximity to what we know as The Holy Land?). I think it's a beautiful fairy tale.
And Jack. The fixer. The savior. The one who rescued everyone! What if a group of writers and producers posited that the Messiah was a character you were emotionally invested in? What if there was something tangible that this character was saving you from, not just a general far-off concept? This idea did more for me than watching Jim Caviezel getting beaten to a pulp. . . what if it was someone you knew?
I think it took six years to get to this end for that reason; we needed that much time to get invested in Jack. True, he's had his moments, good and bad, but that last haggard walk, shoe bloodied and clutching the wound Locke gave him? Come on. Juxtaposed with the reunion with all the people from the island he saved, all the people he doctored, all the people he cared about where for once and for real, he actully looked happy? This show was a sentamentalist's (my) wet dream.
(Again), Bravo.
My aunts used to tease my mother when she was a little girl because she cried every time she watched Lassie. I might be crazy, and I might be reaching, but I know how she felt.