“This city is a prison. I don’t wanna make a life here.”
“Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.”
Looking back, I realise I carry with me values and perspectives that society had never explicitly taught me, yet somehow a children’s cartoon had. Those who know Uncle Iroh know that his words of wisdom aren’t exactly instantly gratifying—that is, they take years to settle. Long after they’re offered over a cup of warm jasmine tea, in moments that seem almost forgettable, you find yourself coming back to them.
This exchange is one such example. What appears to be a conversation about the city Ba Sing Se is, in its essence, a mirror to one of the most persistent habits of the human mind: postponing life.
We constantly convince ourselves that life exists somewhere beyond the present. It will begin after graduation, after moving away, after finding the right people, the right career, or the right version of ourselves. It’s all a matter of time, right? Until then, we wait, believing that fulfilment belongs to a future we have yet to reach.
One explanation for this tendency is the concept of locus of control, proposed by psychologist Julian Rotter. The theory suggests that individuals differ in where they perceive control over their lives to reside. Those with an external locus of control attribute their experiences primarily to outside forces such as circumstance, chance, or the actions of others. While external factors undeniably shape our lives, believing they possess complete authority over our life may foster a passive mindset—stripping one’s own autonomy.
In contrast, an internal locus of control recognises that although we are not always in control over our circumstances, we retain agency in how we respond to them. Meaning, purpose, and growth are not postponed until life becomes ideal; they are cultivated through the choices we make within the lives we already have.
This perspective closely aligns with existential psychology, which asks not whether life is free from hardship, but how one might live meaningfully despite it. As Viktor Frankl argued, meaning is not discovered in perfect circumstances but created through our response to imperfect ones.
The prison, then, is not ‘this city’. Perhaps it is the misconception that life is to be made.
