Disclaiming Standard: This is fan fiction, written by a fan. I make no money from being a fan. I have no money because I am a fan.
Temple Life
Growing up, sunrise at the Southern Air Temple saw every monk and novice gather for morning rituals. No matter if there was snow, thunder, or a sky so perfect Aang's feet ached to be off the ground. Monk Gyasto had once convinced Aang he could only be a Master Airbender if he could perform the hour long ritual in one breath. It was a year before he realized that his guardian was infrequently serious.
Undulled by war or time, every word and gesture was engraved into him. Every man and boy (and the more curious lemurs) had recited mantras to the rhythmic clack of prayer beads. They thanked the Sky Bison for the gift of flight. They praised the Spirits of the Air and renewed their vows to hold all life sacred.
Most importantly, and most perplexing, within every ritual was their Ancestors' warning that enlightenment came only by rising above the world they knew and the suffering of life.
Aang the boy had no understanding of the worldly concerns he was supposed to separate from. Life from his point of view had always been pretty good. So for a long time, his knowledge of affliction was limited to being hungry between mealtimes, scraping his knee, or sitting still. But when he began to leave friend after friend behind in his bending lessons, Aang's eyes opened a little wider.
