I fell in love with the television series one day after coming from school. Kuya, panoorin mo ‘to! Of course, I was very resistant to my sister at that time. We were always kontrabidas (baka ako lang siguro sa kanya). I do recall I was still wearing that yellowish-polo shirt when I was in grade three. Anyway, the first episode I watched was not even the pilot episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I don’t recall which one exactly, but it was probably already one of those episodes amid the first or second season. And now, months ago, I have been telling myself from time to time — I should write about Avatar.
At first, I wanted to highlight Aang as one of the best I’ve seen in television, but honestly, the “Gaang” (also known as Team Avatar) was one of the finest BAND of characters I’ve seen or probably “met” since I’ve been exposed to any form of media on television or online. Each of them in their little way impressed something in my heart that I was never able to express in words concretely, but only in emotions that have made me understand the beauty of the series. Rather than focusing on the actual synopsis or story of the series, I would like to describe how the characters (a select few, at least) were able to deliver the philosophy and message of Avatar which could be applied in our own lives.
Aang had a sweet kind of innocence which matured throughout the series — it did not disappear, rather it was through the different experiences that, for example when his world turned upside down when he found out that the Air Nomads were wiped out, or he was in a state of confusion since he did not want to kill the Fire Lord, led him to greater realizations that turned into opportunities. Every single time Aang faced a threat in his life, the innocent kid despite being a pacifist did not back down. He turned the world “upside down,” for example, by learning how to accept one of the Air Temples as a habitat for non-bending refugees.
Today, people are clamoring that we should not glorify the resilience of the Filipino person due to the damaging effects of the lockdown, yet the very reason we are called to such is because it is what we clearly need even if we feel and we are powerless, weak and all labels and adjectives you could possibly name. Zuko was quick to recall one of Aang’s greatest qualities as Korra sought advice from him in The Legend of Korra (TOK): “Rebuilding the Air Nation was Aang’s biggest dream. He would be beside himself with joy with what you’ve done. And if he accomplished that goal, he might have sacrificed anything to protect it.” The value of sacrifice cannot be overemphasized today — keeping the faith has indeed its risks, and there is so much at stake today after the last five months have passed since we lost our first local brother to the invisible enemy.
In Hinduism, the word “Avatar” is defined as a deity in bodily form on earth, an incarnate divine teacher. When we first met Aang, He was nowhere close from that. And throughout the series, the word “destiny” has been repeated over and over especially by the renowned Iroh of the Fire Nation: “I know it.” We all have our own destinies, and not only have these been instilled in us for nothing, but even a Person “calls” us — elevating our meanings in life into a “vocation.” A seed was planted in what Aang was at the end of the series. In the series, it was not a seed but a spirit: the spirit of Raava (which we discover how the first Avatar changed the world in TOK (I hope to write a separate article about this).
This spirit is what enabled the human person in Aang and his previous lives to learn and enable their control to master the four elements, but without Aang’s full participation, he could not do so. This is what destiny or vocation means: we have to learn our talents because we do have them. We may falter in recognizing, training and mastering them because more than the strength needed is the acknowledgement, done in a cheerful, open-minded and graceful manner. Aang was able to do so because despite his inner pre-dispositions, his youth and experience enabled him to do so. Both of these factors are not even due to his age, because he was technically 112 years old, as the creators explained the character’s death: “The one hundred years Aang had spent frozen in an iceberg while in the Avatar State drained much of his inherent life energy, and by his later years the strain of this began to weigh heavily upon his body.” Aang willingfuly went through the harshest circumstances to save mankind which he did not learn how to love and embrace his mission until the end.
For me, Aang had a magnanimous heart. Again, as Zuko told Korra, “he might have sacrificed anything to protect it.” How much we could learn from this person who was ready not only to give but to “give up” (his own life) for the sake of the common good. We could become the Aang the world needs the most today before the “fire nation” continues attacking us.
The first time I’ve probably even watched or heard the first few parts of his story, Zuko was very negative and pessimistic. He exemplified what the world has seen in the Fire Nation — the reason why the world fell upside down. He personified their ire and anger, and what a pity that what caused Zuko’s life to go upside down was his rude and proud father who had no respect for his own son. There have been only a few exceptional characters among the Fire Nation that did not personify the symbol and element they carried in their hearts, first and foremost, Iroh and Zuko adding on to the band of benders who would “save” the Fire Nation from domineering and harming the rest of the world. Given that ATLA was designed initially and primarily as a cartoon for kids, Zuko was obviously introduced as the antagonist from the very first episode. We did not know if he grew up with friends, maybe he did (as we saw their seemingly friendliness and bonding during their vacation in Ember Island), but we were not able to witness this in comparison to Aang (unfortunately he also had a disadvantage when his Avatar identity was revealed to his “batchmates”).
What Aang and Zuko showed in this series was despite their greatness in identity, greatness in capacity and strength, they were both very weak and immature. Their personae exemplified how immaturity can lead to true greatness. Aang saved the world at the biological age of a teenager, and Zuko, while at a disadvantage of being banished and by carrying the weight of his cross as the prince of the evil Fire Lord, sought his destiny and brought back the right kind of honor not only to his nation but to the world and himself. He saw how vital his role was to the Avatar, becoming the the human carrier of the light spirit’s guide and friend in learning the skill of firebending.
Acceptance was not easy at all for these two characters we learned to love, and at the same time, it was also difficult for us even if we fanatics of ATLA have always clamored the greatness of this series. As always, the love-struggle we encounter in everything good we watch, read or listen to has a great impact on us. We are consummate beings; we ought to consume something, to live on the needs and even the wants we have. If so, what we consume becomes a part of us. And there was so much in the hands of Zuko and Aang, since ending the war was only the first step in restoring balance to the world. What the series failed to uncover were the day to day efforts in keeping the peace and kindness in each and every individual, bender or non bender, affected by the last hundred years of genocide, murder, inequality, etc.
There’s much more to uncover with ATLA, and I hope to write a second part to this series of articles on this beloved work, especially with the one who was known as the “Dragon of the West.”
