Friday, October 19, 2012

Legacy

          When we look to a dictionary, we will most often see the word legacy defined as that which is passed down or left behind by an ancestor after they have died.  After the passing of Grandmaster Jae Chul Shin earlier this year, I have struggled with what I might put down in words regarding this great man and great leader of men and women.  It seems only fitting that I should in some way discuss his legacy.  If we merely look at this in terms of the dictionary definition, there is certainly more than enough to discuss.  He passed down to us a tradition, an art, and an Association that have each shaped many of us into the people we are today.  This is not what I wish to talk about here, though.  To do this implies that his legacy is something finite, and I simply do not believe that to be the case.  The legacy of a martial artist, and to an extent that of any great teacher, is far more.  It is that part of the person that goes on to further affect the lives of others, and grows to become something more.  In this way, Grandmaster Shin's legacy is the farthest thing possible from a finite set of "things" or "ideas."  It is instead an ongoing part of all his students' lives, and by extension, part of their students' lives as well.
      Rather than get into a long dissertation on everything our Grandmaster has left us, then, I would prefer to relate a few short stories that, when viewed together, help paint a picture of what I feel legacy truly is.  First, I remember on many occasions hearing my instructor tell us that he does not teach students to become black belts; that instead he teaches students to become teachers.  This is the true ultimate goal of a true master, and it is something that has stuck with me for my entire life.  Without teaching others how to pass on the art we love, and without going a step further and instilling within them a burning desire to teach others, there is no one to help it grow through the coming years; there is no legacy.
     For me, the desire to teach was always there, but that didn't mean it was easy.  I found numerous roadblocks on my path to becoming a studio owner, and in the end, I had to move over 300 miles from my hometown in order to do it, but it proved to be the best decision I could have made.  In the same year that my wife and I opened our studio, I was invited to my first Masters' Clinic,  and it was there that I began my testing process for Master Instructor rank.  I clearly remember after the test being asked the following question: "What do you view your role in the World Tang Soo Do Association to be?"  I was fortunate enough to be towards the middle of the testing group, and therefore had some time to think about my answer.  I answered by saying that my role as a studio owner and future Master instructor was to serve as an ambassador of the art; to bring Tang Soo Do into new areas of our region, to develop instructors who would one day open their own studios, and to grow our region, our Association, and our art.  I am very proud to say that I have achieved some of that goal. My wife and I each now operate as studio owners, and we run a commercial studio as well as a thriving YMCA martial arts program.  In this way the legacy left to us continues to grow.
     Just owning and operating a studio, or even co-owning and operating two studios is not enough to truly embrace the idea of our Grandmaster's legacy, though. We must produce the teachers of a new generation, and this year I have had the pleasure to see our first student, along with his own wife and daughter, move on to start a new studio of their own.  Recently, My wife and I were invited to attend the first belt test being held at this studio, and it was there that I was able to watch a group of nine very determined white belts take a critical step forward on their own journeys in Tang Soo Do.  It brought me back in time, to a small group that I had prepared to test in front of my own instructor, and I had to smile at the fact that it was now a student who tested as a white belt on that day ten years ago who had now prepared his own students to test in front of me.  It was sobering experience, but one I'll not soon forget.  It helped me realize that Grandmaster Shin's legacy is not something he left behind, but is instead something that moves forward, and grows to become stronger.  His legacy is in all of us, and in how each member studio of our organization is a family group, while our Association is one large extended family.
       Nothing makes this more clear to me than remembering the last conversation I had with Grandmaster Shin.  I had called him on the telephone to discuss some issues for an upcoming Board of Directors meeting, but when we had finished with the business of the day, there were only two things he wanted to discuss.  The first of these was how my studio was doing, not because it was simply one of those questions he was "supposed to ask", but instead because he actually wanted to know, and truly cared about the answer.  I firmly believe that he viewed each studio owner as a surrogate child of sorts, and the members of those studios as surrogate grandchildren.  So, perhaps it should come as no surprise that what he was truly and genuinely excited to talk about was that he had heard the news that one of my students was opening a new studio.  He wanted to know all about it, and was both happy and excited to discuss this new development, just as if it were the birth of a new child. He talked with me about the instructor and his family, the new studio's location, and gave his fervent wishes for its long-term success. He cared not just about the art and its continuation, but about the people charged with that continuation as well. His legacy does go on, will continue to go on, and will not only grow, but will thrive, as long as I and my fellow studio owners never forget that we are not merely his "children", but that we are brothers, sisters, parents, and grandparents as well, forever charged with the responsibility of nurturing our family and helping it become all he always envisioned it to be.




Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

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