One's body is no longer clasped by the streets that turn and return it according to an anonymous law; nor is it possessed, whether as player or played, by the rumble of so many differences and by the nervousness of New York traffic. When one goes up there, he leaves behind the mass that carries off and mixes up in itself any identity of authors or spectators. An Icarus flying above these waters, he can ignore the devices of Daedalus in mobile and endless labyrinths far below. His elevation transfigures him into a voyeur. It puts him at a distance. It transforms the bewitching world by which one was "possessed" into a text that lies before one's eyes. It allows one to read it, to be a solar Eye, looking down like a god.
The perspective that De Certeau experiences up on high affords him the capacity to disconnect, to survey the vast, unconscious mass of urbanity that spreads out before him. It is from this perspective that I found myself seeing my life's course after having just watched the series finale of LOST.
[minor spoilers ahead]
Leading up to the final episode, I had, as many of my fellow LOST-watchers did, a checklist of the points that needed to be cleared up - the mysteries or questions left unresolved. Gladly, however, my cynicism and/or critical appraisal of the show (they are indistinguishable at this point) was overcome by the true fabric of the show: its characters. Some mysteries were left unsolved, like why Widmore want The Island so badly, why Desmond's resistance to electromagnetism actually mattered, why the characters were able to see through their time/space into The Island's, etc. Throughout the finale, I found myself fully be-goosebumped and sweating, but it wasn't because of the mysteries that they were finally revealing: it was any number of characters being unveiled to each other -- Sawyer and Juliet find each other, Hurley finds that he matters as much as anyone else, John Locke and Jack Shephard flip through their past like a picture book that recalls their ideological irreconcilability as they sat in the hospital post-op.
The characters gained a perspective not unlike the one that De Certeau describes from on high: they saw back through their past and felt all of its latent significance wash over into their current lives. I felt drawn into that kind of washing-over, as I, too, have seen 5 years of my own life pass watching this show (I watched the first season on DVDs). People have come and gone from my life since then. I have let new people into my life just as much as I have, unfortunately, lost others that were once friends or loves to the past. For only about the last hour of the finale and in the brief time since then, I sat on high with De Certeau and surveyed my life's last 5 years, its changing elevation, its ebbs and flows, the doors that have opened and closed again, and the allegros and largos of the past that has made the present what it is. I recalled memories long since forgotten that flashed back into consciousness. I felt like, for the first time in a long while, I could see the broad scope of my life in all of its shifting colors - with both the past and future in frame. As De Certeau puts it, "Perspective vision and prospective vision constitute the twofold projection of an opaque past and an uncertain future onto a surface that can be dealt with."
These two realities exist in LOST too: the previous episodes are the opaque past from which many tried to project an uncertain future of answers and solved riddles. This duality often drove the plot of LOST and the desire to understand its mysteries. Would the questions be answered later? Would earlier mysteries find their appropriate reflection in the answers of later episodes? What I concluded as I watched the last chapter unfold in what some will doubtlessly call (and not for unfounded reasons) an unsatisfactory ending is that the characters were the ones that ultimately needed reconciliation - not the mysteries. Hurley needed to fulfill a purpose precisely so that his life could feel purposeful. Benjamin Linus needed to find forgiveness for his conscience's sake, but also for our sake - so we would know how to see him in light of all he'd done. John Locke and Jack Shephard needed to hug - with all their past quarrels in perspective. Tears needed to be shed between separated loves Charlie and Claire, Hurley and Libby, Sawyer and Juliet, Jack and Kate, because these were the driving forces of the show's drama. Science fiction would be dry without such human elements as love, hate, envy, acceptance and loss. Star Wars was driven by Luke's relationship to his father, Han and Leia, and the forces of love/hate as much as any creative idea about Death Stars or space battles. And so with LOST, the characters' relationships were given the final word, because the peace they found with each other and with their experiences was the most important question that had been left unanswered.
For what it's worth, that character reconciliation is what finally fulfilled my enjoyment of the show. It allowed me to put to rest my expectation of explanation. It left me looking back into my own life for the need of reconciliation that may one day find its way to me. It helped me look down from on high and see my life for the "fathomless mystery that it is" - as Frederick Buechner as put it. I don't want all of life's questions answered either, because, really, who has the time to sort it out? What I do want is reconciliation and peace with others, and a point from which to view my life in all of its colorfulness. If that's what I can gain, the mysteries can continue to rest in peace for all I care. At the end of the day, the most important artistic creations, to me, are the ones that turn my eyes inward and let me look at myself anew. LOST has been a marvelous work of art to me in that sense.