 It's a trope in a lot of cartoons, like almost all kids shows at this point, that the world has to be saved by a bunch of teenagers, with little to no help from their parents. And while Avatar definitely isn't just another kids show, when we watch The Last Airbender, it's pretty easy to forget that our favorite gang, get it, are all mostly 12 to 13 years old, except Zuko, who's basically an old man, being 16 and all. Even Azula, one of the greatest villains in TV history who is cunning, decisive, and can shoot lightning out of her hands, is only 14. I know, right? Like, what? But while the decision to make the main character's kids was probably just a marketing strategy with the whole kid-appeal trope, their actions and journey throughout the series actually hold some innate wisdom about how important it is to connect with our own inner child, and shines a light on how important it is to have an open mind and state of flow when starting your spiritual journey. One of the best things about the show is seeing how much of the characters change over three seasons, and how layered the whole thing is. Not only do they grow as people and change their morals and spiritual values, I mean, come on, Zuko's redemption arc is the best thing in TV history, and no one can change my mind on that. But their environment and belongings change to reflect them. Mirrored in their growing maturity, both physical and spiritual, is stuff like their clothes, which can change depending on which nation they're in and how far along they are on their journey, mixing it up from so many other characters in history who only and always wear the exact same thing, every day, forever. It's interesting that when we first meet Aang, one of his first lines is, Not, hey, Katara, I'm the Avatar and we have to go save the world because I have this huge adult responsibility. Granted, he didn't know about the war then, but still, much of the first season is framed as the journey to the North Pole to carry out Aang's destiny of learning all of the elements. But a lot of the time, they stop off at fun places to do seemingly childish stuff like ride elephant koi or seeing aunt Wu to get their fortunes read. It's kind of weird considering there's a whole war going on and there's all that impending doom and what have you. While the Aang certainly understand the concept of destiny and responsibility, especially after Aang meets Roku in the spirit world, they don't let it stop them from having fun. They understand that it's the journey that matters, not necessarily the final destination. As long as Aang learns all of the elements and defeats Ozai by next summer, it's all cool. So it doesn't really matter what they do in between. Ultimately, they have a good sense of balance in their journey. They have a good end goal to work towards, but they don't take anything too seriously. They approach destiny from a childlike perspective of innocence and it's gonna happen anyway, so let's have some fun while we wait. The idea of not taking things too seriously actually has some great spiritual value if we can understand it properly. As always, acting in balance and moderation is the key, since not taking anything seriously can also lead to some problems for sure, but the wisdom of approaching a task from a state of flow and surrender is something that we've talked a lot about before on this channel. In essence, the kids of Avatar live in the moment for themselves and always do things in accordance with that, never taking their destiny and quest as word of law, but simply being and acting true to themselves. Don't try to stop us. I wasn't planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. And in this, we find a trait of spiritual maturity. One of the most important examples of this is in Aang's final fight with Ozai. Now, major spoiler warning if you haven't seen it, but despite Ozai being the big bad guy who is obviously evil and needs to be stopped because he's going to commit another mass genocide, Aang still doesn't kill him. And there's even a whole episode dedicated to him finding out a way to stop Ozai without killing him. No one can deny that Aang is a kind and gentle soul, but his decision is arguably rooted in his young outlook on life. Unlike most adults today, the kid hero, yes, there's a name for it, is pretty idealistic. To put it simply, children like Aang tend to have a very clear view of right and wrong, so much so that it borders on naive. They're impossible to corrupt because they ultimately live solely from a position of compassion and pure childlike love living in the heart. As we get older, that wonder, amazement and sense of love for everything tends to fade away as we are conditioned by society to believe in certain things. Spirit doesn't exist, people are mostly bad, you must work nine to five, yada yada yada. It's funny that being called childlike as an adult is actually an insult since you could even argue that the mindset of children is one of pure compassion, which I think says a lot about the values that underpin our society today. It's interesting that we never really see spiritual adults in The Last Airbender, except I guess for the White Lotus members. We're all part of the same ancient secret society, a group that transcends the divisions of the poor nations. The Order of the White Lotus. But they are effectively part of a nice cult, so I don't know if that really counts. Aang is really the only one who has a direct connection to the spirit world, being the Avatar and all. That said though, the three OG characters, Aang, Katara and Sokka, all have experiences with spirits or spiritual entities. Aang has Roku and basically hogs the entire spirit world, sure, but Katara meets and helps the painted lady in Season 3. And Sokka's girlfriend, Yue, turns into the Moon Spirit, and appears all ghostly to him in The Last Second. That's rough, buddy. My point is, none of the adults in the show, except maybe Iroh, but he's basically a wise Taoist sage who is a big kid anyways, have experiences with the spirit world, at least none of the everyday or normal people. Is there a lesson here that children are somehow more connected to their, or our innate spiritual gifts? In real life, this is kind of pretty common, with over 65% of kids in the US having an imaginary friend. You also hear numerous stories about children who remember their past lives, and there's even between one or two who have supposedly guided their family to their old dead body that was buried somewhere. It seems like the kids of Avatar, as well as most real life kids, are untouched by the world. They're not shaped or conditioned until they get to school or grow up, arguably giving them more freedom to interact with things in the spirit world. Even Aang begins to change when he learns about the war and that he lost his people. But somehow, he managed to keep that idealistic love-centered approach to things. I think that innocent or playful outlook is an important step in how we can see the world around us. One of my favorite episodes back in Season 1 was Omashu, where the gang stopped off in Bumi's Earth Kingdom city. Bumi is an old man at this point, but he is a typical crazy kid with a manic laugh and is a little bit nuts. I'm going to do nothing! He comes up with three challenges that Aang has to do, but in order to complete them, he has to think outside the box and in completely unconventional ways in order to progress. If we were doing a full-on analysis, we could say that most of the challenges reflect Bumi's disjointed and chaotic mind. But honestly, I think the lesson that we sometimes need to think outside the box and approach things from different angles is an amazing thing to take away from a spiritual show like this. If anything, one of the biggest themes in Avatar is that it's more important to be yourself than to conform to the role society expects of you. I think it's important to point out too that the events of the show happen over the course of one summer, so most of the characters don't physically age more than a few months. But if you compare Aang or Zuko, or anyone for that matter, at the end of the series to what they were like at the beginning, there's a huge difference. This is where the idea of spiritual growth or maturity finally comes to the forefront. While the characters may not grow much physically, the experiences they have shape them as people and make them grow emotionally and mentally at a pretty fast rate. Facing the judgment of the firebending masters will be very dangerous for you. There's a common myth today that age equates with experience, that the older you are or how long you've been doing something, translates to how experienced you are. This is most prevalent in the job market, where many companies will require years of experience before hiring you, but don't usually provide any actual way of getting it. Unfortunately, it just isn't true. Someone can learn more in a year than someone else does in 10, and it all depends on your outlook and circumstance. People have a tendency to believe that maturity comes with age, but that isn't true either. Many times the parent-child dynamic is often reversed and parents often ask their children for advice because they see things so much more simply. Like the parable of freedom that we've covered before recently on this channel, sometimes you can lose yourself being too tied up on the specifics of things, and it's only by taking a position of surrender, compassion, and non-judgment that you can see things for what they really are. Aang is an expert at this, going out of his way in Season 3 to humanize the Fire Nation people and even throw them a dance party. In other words, it's your experiences that shape how mature you are, not your age, and the truest test of maturity is how you use the knowledge given to you. Aang's rapid spiritual growth is probably due to his countless past lives and access to the spirit world too, something that we can all do as well if we simply approach it from a curious mindset of a child. We are, after all, children in comparison to the scope of the universe. When opening his chakras with Guru Patik, he does it in a lighthearted manner, but more than that, the whole arc is about Aang changing his perspective on the world, and along with that, his habits. Each of the chakras that Patik teaches Aang about is blocked by behaviors and outlooks that used to be normal to him, ones that he has not only acquired throughout his life, but also must learn to discard. Even Patik's onion and banana juice, which I can safely say tastes disgusting, is arguably a metaphor for this, with Aang, who has always loved indulging his sweet tooth, finds the idea disgusting at first. Later, he calmly asks for more, symbolizing the way that he's shedding more and more of his old habits and hang-ups through his meditative practice. Can I have some onion banana juice, please? Ultimately, Aang's journey of opening his chakras is a process of returning to a childlike state, one where he operates from a place of unconditional love and wonder for the world. This is not to say attachment to things is solely an adult trait, try taking away a toy from a toddler and see what happens. But that in order to realize his highest or truest self, Aang has to return to that awareness of his inner child and exist in a non-judgmental and loving state. With that, thank you so much for watching. I invite you to engage with your own inner child now, and take an unfiltered look at the world around you. Who knows, you might just learn something about yourself that you couldn't see through an adult mindset before. And with that, we'll see you next time on Spirit Science. Toodles!