Chapter 27: History Lesson

"I can't believe it!" I gasped. "You just took me back to the time of the first Avatar!"

I was sitting on the Lion Turtle's back, both of us looking queer, ghostly, and blue in our spirit-forms. We were looking at a young man about Aang's age approaching a tent guarded by heavily armed men. The land was a desert filled for miles around this small oasis: a nest of tents and trees built around a diminutive lake. The heat was overwhelming, especially to someone like me who grew up in the artic. Now there was some sort of argument going on between the guards and the young man. Aang told me that most information about the first Avatar, Han Chao, had been lost. All we had was his name, which had passed through many languages and centuries. So when the Lion Turtle told me this argumentative boy was Han Chao, I knew. He was the first Avatar!

"What time is this?" I asked incredulously.

"The first age of Man; within the twelfth Generation after the Age of Dark Void."

"Meaning…?"

"Approximately 4888 years ago."

I nearly fainted. This couldn't be true—but it was! My curiosity soon overpowered my incredulity. I had a hundred questions. "How did people bend the elements back then? Was it much different from now? Were there any water benders?"

"At this point in history, the land has finished dividing, and people inhabit all of it," the Lion Turtle replied calmly. "The people have bonded with the spirits and nature just enough to learn bending. Badger Moles, Dragons, Bison, and the Moon have been good teachers. Humans aren't very good at bending yet, but they've already started fighting and tyrannizing each other, and provoking the spirits."

Frustration brought a wave of bitterness to me; a taste almost palpable in my mouth. "Why do people have to be that way? Can't they just…get it right?" I turned to the Lion Turtle, who already seemed a dear confidant to me. "Hey. You obviously know a lot about the ruling forces of the world. And you have as much power as the Avatar."

"So?" he asked.

"So…can't you…make them get it right?"

"That would be a little controlling, wouldn't it?"

That irritated me. I may be able to acknowledge my problems with control, but I'll probably never be free of the temptation to indulge in them. The fact that the Lion Turtle could so calmly refuse to control others when he had so much power made me burn with envy. But I wasn't willing to give up my case—if there was some way to make this people do well, I would do it.

"Wait a minute," I aid out loud. "Isn't the Avatar the answer? The Avatar was ordained to make people get their acts together, right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." He lifted his claw and pointed, directing my attention back to the desert oasis where Han Chao was arguing passionately with the guards. I could hear his words, but they were in another language. The Lion Turtle translated poetically,

"I come, a mighty mage

Learned in the ancient texts,

Learned in the forces that govern

This world and the next;

For I am upright and pure of heart,

The Forces have sent me great signs

That a cleanser of the people is coming,

And with all my power, I do find

I am the one: the Avatar."

As he spoke, young Han Chao demonstrated his mastery of all four elements. The guards and all the village elders fell on their faces and acknowledged the sovereignty of the Avatar. Han Chao then went into the most guarded tent, which contained the Scrolls of Ancient Knowledge, untouched for a near a thousand years. They most have been very spiritual things, those scrolls, because as Han Chao read them, he opened a link to the spirit world. The Great Forces confirmed the Avatar's power and made him Liaison Between Worlds, Protector of Nature, and Keeper of Peace and Justice. The Great Forces also instructed the knowledge spirit to build a great Library to protect the sacred scrolls.

"I've been to that Library!" I gasped.

"Jus keep watching," the Lion turtle said. His voice expressed his feeling perfectly, and just now it rang with a mix of excitement at showing me all this, and sadness I didn't understand.

We now moved through history fast—too fast to collect any specific times, places, or names. However, it didn't go so quickly that I couldn't see roughly what went on: wars, murders, betrayals, ruin, abuse of Nature, and forgetfulness of the spirits and Forces; all the result of the people's wrongdoing. The Avatar did his or her best, but couldn't manage everything even with all the power that position entailed.

"Now why do you think this keeps happening?" the Lion Turtle asked.

"Because people are so stubborn!" I exclaimed, exasperated. I couldn't help thinking of Toph. "They just won't do it right!"

"Maybe that's not the problem. Maybe they can't get it right all the time."

"Well, nobody's perfect. I only want them to be—"

"A hop and skip away from it."

"But that's the way it's supposed to be!" I exclaimed. "I know I'm a moral stickler, but it's just who I am!" My over-active anger resurfaced. I felt like I was going to explode if my preconceived notions of life continued to be proved wrong. "Okay, so maybe nobody's perfect! But that's the Avatar's purpose—he should be!"

There was a bit of irony in the Turtle's voice. "Whose purposes are you really thinking about?"

I opened my mouth to retort, but stopped. I became aware out of the blue that my ideas of Avatar perfection sprung a lot more from emotional bias than learned fact. I loved Aang. I wanted him to be perfect. In fact, before Aang's affair, I considered him to be the perfect man; and even afterward, I chose to dismiss his little affairs as amplified rumors. I blamed Beka and Toph, when it was really just as much Aang's fault. In my mind, Aang was still the greatest Avatar that ever lived, but now I knew he had as many flaws as me. That wouldn't change no matter how much transcendental meditation Pathik subjected him to.

"Lion Turtle," I said with a heavy sigh; "I still don't understand how Aang could betray me like he did."

Before this adventure, I could never have imagined a Lion Turtle being in any way affectionate or understanding. But I found both in this beast's voice. It was like the feel of Dad's kiss on my head, Aang's hand in mine, and mother's singing voice all mixed together—and even better. "Katara, my beautiful. I know you're hurt, and you think you need to assume responsibility. But Aang's betrayal was not a result of anything you did. That boy is just as lost and confused as you; he has a lot of his own problems."

"Like what?" I whispered, to hide the shake in my voice.

In answer, the images of time and ages faded. I saw a dark cosmos, black space empty but for the myriads of distant stars and planets. I saw a transparent image of Aang in the Avatar state, holding the human planet between his hands. That seemed to me to confirm the Avatar's supreme power, but like so many other things I previously been sure of, this assumption was incorrect.

"This is the illustration that gurus have been giving Avatars for hundreds of years," stated the Lion Turtle. "They got one idea right: hat if the Avatar achieved perfection in all areas (including spirit, power, and morality) he could indeed hold the world in his hands."

"But no Avatar has been able to do it?"

"No Avatar was meant to do it. The foolish humans think that if they try hard enough, they can do it. But that's not the answer. The Avatar was ordained in order to show the world that no human, however powerful, can ever reach perfection."

Big red flags went up. I couldn't wrap my head around these ideas. They went against things I had previously believed in, like the supremacy of the Avatar and the ordinary human's ability to do well all the time. Then I suddenly understood.

"This is what was wrong with Aang!" I exclaimed. "He just couldn't believe it was true, so he got really stressed out. He can't understand why he couldn't do his duty."

"Or what he thought was his duty," corrected the Lion Turtle.

Probably ever seine Aang found out he was the Avatar, he thought it was his job to save the world from all hurt. Sleeping for hundred years and not being able to stop the decimation of his people must have totally destroyed Aang. His shame from that one mistake resurfaced when he made any others—failing at Ba sing Sey, failing at the Invasion, and failing to keep peace in the Fire Nation. Tears started to my eyes.

"Poor Aang," I said. "He's so overwhelmed trying to be perfect he's forgotten what a wonderful person he really is." I understood his struggle…the desire to please everyone…the unending quest for perfection…just hoping that one day, he could be good enough to be loved.

But my focus shifted back to the Lion Turtle. I still didn't know exactly how he was or why he was so invested in me. Furthermore, I had no idea if any of this history and conversation was really helping me personally at all.

When I expressed my confusion, something like a sad smile played on the Lion Turtle's live, bronze face. "Why, don't you see Katara? You're in the same boat as Aang." At my puzzled silence, he went on, "Why do you love the idea of the Avatar so much?"

"Because he's a hero," I replied. "He can carry the burden of the world…or at least, I thought so. The idea made me keep holding on after my mother died and my father left. And…" I hesitated… "It's part of why I love Aang. I want…" My tongue felt heavy. My cheeks burned with embarrassment and I felt naked. But I still said what was on my mind, as humbling as it was. "I want a rescuer." Ignoring the tears rolling down my cheeks, I quickened my voice. "I want t be rescued, but there's nobody who can keep me safe."

The suggestion came softy. "Do you think you were in desperate need of security when your mother died? When Hakota left? Do you think you needed that security so much you stared looking for it in any way you could? It sure makes you feel secure when you have everybody under control, doesn't it?"

I stopped crying to listen. I might never have thought about my problem like that if the Lt hadn't suggested it. It made sense, but it sounded like an easy way out. "I feel like I'm a bad person, and saying that it's caused by earlier hurt is just an excuse."

"But you're not a bad person, Katara!" the voice in my head insisted. "You're a beautiful creation. The death of your mother is at the root of this—we're not blaming her, we're just getting to the heart of the matter to address it better."

The tears came again, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. He was right. My need for security had started after my mother died.

"It doesn't have to be this way, Katara."

"Doesn't it?" I asked, embittered.

"No. Because there is way to relieve your burden. All this time you've been trying to be your own Avatar. Oh Katara, you're so focused on saving every one else's hearts you don't realize your own is broken."

But now I did. I felt the heartbreak most acutely.

"Come on," said the Lion Turtle. "I have to show you one more thing."

"And then?" I sniffled.

"And then you're going to make a hard decision."

We were off on the warp again. Despite my feelings of weakness, the weirdness of my companion, the impossibility of his abilities, and the randomness of it all, I felt relieved. Purpose and a new sense of clarity were right there in the middle of my painful, insane life.