On Legos (and Alchemy)

     Lego may very well be one of the greatest toy lines ever created.  Actually, Xevoz, which was the perfect synergy of construction toys and action figures, was, in may ways, much cooler.  However, since that line was short-lived, mishandled, and prematurely canceled (Curse you, Hasbro!), most of you have never heard of it.  So, we'll stick with Lego, because if you don't know what Legos are, I'm really not sure I want to know you, and you very possibly couldn't relate to me anyway,

     When I was a kid, I very much remember a time in which I started to become disenfranchised by toy lines like the Transformers (which were releasing things like Pretenders and Action Masters) and instead became obsessed with obtaining as many Lego sets as humanly possible.  My family was very giving, and over the course of my birthday, Christmas, and many other holidays, I recall that during one particular year I had acquired quite a few Legoland Space Sets. Of the sets I owned, my absolute favorites had to be the FX Star Patroller and the Cosmic Fleet Voyager:

     What young sci-fi loving geek wouldn't want these sets?  Both were very cool spaceships, and both had some very cool hidden features that can't be seen in the pictures above, including moving hatches and modular construction.  They were, to put it simply, awesome.  

     As soon as I could, I broke into those sets, and I went about following the instructions within, to the best of my ability, in order to construct the wondrous vessels depicted on the front of each box. To the uninitiated, Lego instructions look something like this:

While they are theoretically easy to follow from step to step, one would often find that if careful attention was not given to exactly which pieces were required and to the exact location in which piece was to be placed, it often became necessary to tear everything apart from several steps in order to find a simple mistake and rebuild the set correctly.  If nothing else, this process at least imbued within me the skills I would need later in life to build IKEA furniture. 

     The sets did get built, with time and perseverance, and the resulting ships really were awesome. They stayed built as designed for quite awhile to come, too.  Eventually, though... these ships would have to see battle... and battle between Lego spaceships can only lead to one thing:

Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but I did have my own imaginary Lego explosions, quickly followed by Lego crashes.  I quite fondly remember the various multicolored bricks flying to and fro, and the rather convincing Lego wreckage left behind.  Lego spaceships were toys you could break without actually breaking them.  What could be better? 

     Interestingly enough, that actually was the next question my young mind sought to answer.  What could be better?  I went back to the boxes, and noticed that the back of each depicted a number of different ships and vehicles... none of which were included in the instruction booklet, but all of which could be constructed from the pieces contained within that set:

While I did spend some time trying to replicate the vehicles contained in these images, an even better thought occurred to me.  If I had two Lego sets that resulted in one awesome ship each, what might I build if I combined ALL of the pieces from both sets?  It would no doubt be glorious.  Believe me, it was, at least to me.  I proceeded to rip into my ships, pulling them apart into their smallest component pieces.

I began anew, creating new and incredible things. Radar dishes and antennae became lasers and weapon emplacements.  Pieces intended to be cylindrical lights or loudspeakers instead became the heads for new alien species, as Lego did not make alien minifigures at the time.  Ships became giant robots.  I was soon building everything from hovercars to Escape Pods to entire cities.  Indeed, it was glorious.

     So.. this is a martial arts blog, right?  Yes, stay with me, I'm getting there.  Actually, I believe that many of you will have already seen at least some part of the implied simile.  Working trough the color belt system on the way to black belt is very much like receiving that first Lego set, the picture on the box showing a completed black belt.

At these color belt levels we are gradually given all of the pieces required to build ourselves into that black belt, and are given the instruction manual to follow, showing each piece and where it must go. Sometimes we are overly ambitious, though, and may try to build too quickly.  Only later do we discover that a piece is missing or improperly placed, and in order to build our black belt correctly, we must tear ourselves down and begin anew.  Eventually, with perseverance, we are able to finish the set.  We have built our black belt.  What could be better?

     There are some black belts who simply can't see that there is anything better. They will proudly place their "finished" product on the shelf to be displayed and admired, and will never really touch it again.  To this I merely say: "What fun is that?"  Sure, they may have built one awesome thing with the pieces they are given, but this is the exact time to answer the question: "What could be better?" What else can you build with the pieces you were given?  It is time now to look at or techniques, our forms, our self-defense applications, our sparring, and everything else we think we "know",  and it is time to take them apart to begin again.  It's time for a martial arts explosion!  Yes, the explosion is sometimes followed quickly by a martial arts crash, but as long as we are willing to pick up the pieces that are strewn to and fro, we can learn something valuable from our crashes as well.  We may find that as we pick up the pieces and begin to build that the results do not always match what our mind's eye has envisioned, but through dedication and persistence we will one day rebuild the pieces into something new and different, and it can be glorious indeed to make discoveries about something "old" that we thought we "knew."

     It is often said that black belt is only the beginning.  If so, we must of course ask and answer: the beginning of what?  It is truthfully only the beginning of many things, but in this context, I submit that it is the beginning of creation.  As humans and mortals we cannot create something from nothing, and therefore must have obtained something from which to begin.  As black belts, we are not often given new pieces with which to build, but this is because we already have been given the pieces we need. We must simply be willing to take our awesome constructions apart in order to rebuild them into something better.  Eventually, we will see that if we break apart each of our separate "sets": our forms, one-steps, basics, etc., that they do not need to be separate at all, and instead we can begin to combine them.  In doing so we come closer to the realization that we have made our martial arts skills (and hopefully ourselves) better.

     As is the way with many things, my interest in Legos waned somewhat over time.  In fact, over the years, and to my chagrin, many of my Lego sets were lost, sold, or merely misplaced.  The longer I live, though, the more I begin to see how all things relate, and that many of my interests intersect, overlap, and share the same underlying themes.

     One interest I have always had (outside of the martial arts) is watching Anime, or Japanese Animation.  I have enjoyed anime since before I really knew what it was, and can still recall being a very young child in the late 1970s, sitting on our couch and pretending to fire the Wave Motion Gun while belting out "OUR STAR BLAZERS!"  Later years would bring me wonders such as Battle of the Planets, Robotech, and Voltron.  Only much later would I learn of the Japanese source material: Space Battleship Yamato, Gatchaman, Macross, and King of Beasts Golion.

     Um, wait... weren't we just talking about martial arts?  or Lego? Trust me, this really does make sense.

     In the modern age, producers of media have realized that American adults actually appreciate anime as much as children, and we have finally had exposure to the original stories as they were intended to be told.  In some rare occasions, an anime may be completely torn apart and remade in order to tell the story the author always meant to share, and in doing so, it becomes better. Such was the case with the production of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, which may well be one of the best anime to reach the mass market.

    Fullmetal Alchemist accepts as its main premise the idea that alchemy is real; alchemy in this case being the conversion of one form of energy or matter to a different form of energy or matter, along with  the ability to control said matter or energy.  This may manifest itself through such things as the creation of a tool or weapon from mere pieces of earth, or may involve the repair of broken iems, or even the healing of injuries.  Despite all this power, alchemists in this world must follow The Law of Equivalent Exchange, which states:

In order to obtain, something of equal value must be lost. 

This law can be circumvented only through the use of The Philosopher's Stone, which can only be obtained through great and terrible sacrifice.  How wonderful it is then, that as martial artists, we need not lose in order to obtain something new. While it is true that we cannot create something from nothing, we need not lose our previous knowledge or techniques in order to create something new from them.  We can, in essence, have our spaceships, hovercars, aliens, robots, lasers, cities, and anything else we can imagine all at once.  We have our Philosopher's Stone, without too much great and terrible sacrifice, and it is glorious.

      Learning to make use of this is a process, as is all of our learning, and is eloquently described in the world of Fullmetal Alchemist through the terms Deconstruction and Reconstruction.  (If you can't see the video below, please clear your browser history/cache, or click here.)  

As black belts and instructors, this then is what we do.  We examine our existing skills and knowledge, we deconstruct them with the intent of reconstructing them into something new, something more useful, and something better, and, hopefully, we begin to see the connections in all we do.  One is all, all is one.

Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

They Aren't Called Attitude Suggestions (Part 1 of ?)

          For the past ten plus years, I have had the honor and privilege of running a martial arts school alongside my wife, who has always put nothing less than the utmost effort into making sure that our school, our instructors, and our students strive for improvement, regardless of how long that improvement might take.  Recently, she has initiated a plan that will take over a year to reach its ultimate fruition, but one that is nonetheless both necessary and overdue.  Many of our younger students will not, at present, be able to understand the full scope of this plan, nor will they immediately comprehend its benefits.  To them, the final results will not be realized for what they perceive as "a long time."  

          Before I discuss the plan itself, I remind you that I am, at my core, little more than a geek, and as such, my view is always skewed toward geek culture when making connections to the world beyond the martial arts, if such a world actually exists for those of us who choose to walk the path of the martial arts instructor.  That said, the best way I can relate this plan to others may be through referencing a work many still believe to be the greatest work of  Fantasy Literature ever produced: J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of The Rings.  In particular, I would like to make note of one of Tolkien's most interesting characters.  No, I'm not referring to any of the Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, Goblins, or Wizards.  The character in question is the Ent, Treebeard.  I realize that at this point many readers will have no idea what an Ent is, or who Treebeard is, but trust me, even if you have never read the novels or seen the films, Treebeard is cool.

Trust me: Treebeard is cool.

          In The Two Towers, Treebeard is encountered by the hobbits Merry and Pippin.  In the film version, he tells them (eventually) after taking several hours to say "Good Morning" to the other Ents that, "it takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish, and we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say."  Interestingly enough, the novel actually casts a slightly different light on this speech. In the novel, Treebeard says, "It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything IN IT, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, AND TO LISTEN TO." (Emphasis added)

          Wait, wasn't I supposed to be talking about the martial arts, and my wife's plan?  I am, of course- weren't you paying attention?  If we replace a few of the verbs, and the language of Old Entish with the words "martial arts", we begin to see the point, that being:

We don't say or do anything in the martial arts unless it is worth 

taking a long time to say or do, and to pay attention to.   

I do realize that I ended the above point with a preposition, but so did Tolkien, so you'll just have to forgive me.  Now, go back and read it again, and take your time.  It wasn't a suggestion; I actually want you to do it.  Really.  Why are you still reading this part?  I said go back and read it again. Done? Okay, then I suppose we can proceed with the plan.

         The plan, simply put, is to have our classes, and in particular our youth advanced classes, learn, understand, and put into practice each of the 14 Attitude Requirements of Tang Soo Do.  Why then should this take such "a long time?"  The answer is because the plan requires us to spend at least one month working on each one of the 14 requirements. Our students must not only learn the words, but must also make a solid attempt each month to understand what those words actually mean, and must show the instructors a genuine attempt to put them into practice.  Oh, did I forget to mention?  This is also cumulative.  For example, by Month 3, students must still be able to recite and explain Attitude Requirements One and Two.  By Month 14, our goal is that each student who has made an effort will be able to recite all 14 Attitude Requirements, explain to the instructors' satisfaction what each means, and give concrete examples of what they have done to actively fulfill each requirement, all of which can be found listed here.  Does this all sound like a bit too much to ask of a child?  I'll be painfully blunt: If you really think so, your child doesn't belong in my class.
          They aren't called the 14 Attitude Suggestions.  They are requirements.  If you don't meet the minimum requirements, you don't move forward.  It's really that simple, but what the heck?  Let's go ahead and make it complicated anyway.  What, exactly, is a requirement?  Dictionary.com defines the word requirement  as:

a thing demanded or obligatory

and also as:

  

a need or necessity

If we accept these 14 Attitude Requirements at face value, we begin to understand that:

1. We must demand that our students learn, understand, and fulfill each requirement.

2. We must convince our students that they are obligated to do so.

3. We must help our students identify the specific need associated with and fulfilled by each requirement.

 

Notice that I used the word must in each of the above statements.  Remember: they're not suggestions.  Not only must we do all of the above, but we must also insist on doing the same for ourselves.  Children understand hypocrisy, and they hate it.  Demand no more of them than you demand of yourself.

          When I am able to put Part 2 of this post series into coherent words, I will begin to discuss the Attitude Requirements themselves.  Let's look at Attitude Requirement Number One just to see how big the plan really is:

Purpose of training should be enhancement of mental and physical betterment. 

Throw that one at your class of youth students, pre-teens, teenagers, or even adults, and watch their eyes bug out of their heads. Then try to explain it, and proceed to scratch your own head.  Each word in this requirement is carefully chosen and carefully placed, though, and it all makes sense.  At the risk of making yet another somewhat obscure reference, I'll leave you with a quote from a somewhat underrated film starring Danny DeVito: Renaissance Man:

Jamaal: Are you gonna come translate this for us?

Bill: Why? It's in English.

Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

 

What's In a Test? Part 1: Failure

          Some time ago now, I found myself for the first time having to write an extended thesis in order to fulfill my requirements for advancement to 4th Dan. While this blog isn't the place to share that particular document in its entirety, I do think it is appropriate for me to share pieces of it here.  The basic topic of the the thesis was testing, and here I would like to share my thoughts on what too often seems to be a taboo word and a taboo subject in the realms of martial arts tests: Failure.

Fear of Failure

            The possibility of failure must be present in any test, or it cannot truly be called a test.  Beyond the possibility of failure, however, a good test includes the fear of failure as well.  Fear in and of itself is not a bad thing.  It can, in fact, be a powerful motivator towards positive change.  We become stronger through facing our fears, not by ignoring or attempting to remove them.  The trend today, however, seems to be towards removing any perceived unpleasantness from our young people’s experiences. Columnist Tucker Carlson writes:

Not all of life’s experiences are positive.  Many are downright unpleasant, even painful, and always have been.  What’s new is the attempt to prohibit those experiences.¹

In so doing, we are doing our children harm.  One of the established needs for testing to fill is the need to confront and understand our weaknesses.  If we do not confront our fears, and in particular the fear of failure, we can never truly face or come to terms with these weaknesses.  In short, fear is a necessary human motivator, and the fear of failure is a necessary component of a good test.

            The fear of failure has been a trait common to all people throughout history.  It stems from the life and death experiences of our distant ancestors, the so called ‘dangers of the hunt’, in which failing meant serious injury or even death.²  Later, as Rites of Passage became more formalized and controlled, failure to succeed in meeting the objective of the rite meant denial of acceptance into the adult community.  With failure came consequences, and it was these consequences of which people were fearful.  Today there is a trend towards lessening or complete removal of consequences.  At one time, failure at tests in schools meant a dire combination of consequences for the child.  At school, the failure would, at the least, result in a loss of points toward an overall score, lowering the student’s chance of passing a subject overall.  At home, parental disapproval was virtually guaranteed.  These and other consequences worked together to ensure that the student would not want to repeat the process.  Today, however, the consequences are often removed or lessened.  Parents more and more often confront teachers over failing grades, rather than support them. Schools themselves allow students to take tests as many times as they need to in order to pass, where the end result is no consequence for the initial failure, and in fact a reward of a passing grade in the end.  With waning support from the community and families, schools are beginning to find out that the consequences they do try to implement have little effect on the students.  The fear of consequences is not reinforced outside of the schools, and the fear of failure is beginning to disappear. Attempts to combat this trend are not working as planned.

            We have discussed the fact that with failure must come consequences.  Removal of these consequences is a problem.  It is, however, only half of the problem.  Attempts to recreate some sense of a fear of failure have been centered solely on consequences, making them consistently harsher. So-called ‘zero tolerance’ policies are being put in place in schools and places of employment throughout society, in which failure is automatically coupled with harsh consequences, and repeated failure is accompanied with immediate removal. In these situations, failure is the end of the road. Consequences must be in place, true, but they must serve as motivators towards positive change.  This cannot happen if the consequences of failure are not coupled with opportunity. Failure must not be viewed as the end of the road, but the beginning.  We often will learn more from our failures than from our successes, but only if the opportunity for future success exists.

People who fail to succeed at a test, life experience, or other situation, must be actively encouraged to face, understand, and accept the consequences of their failure, rather than simply be left to those consequences without further assistance.  In this way, and only in this way, can we fully prepare them to face the test again, hopefully with a different result. Testing a second time without first facing the initial consequences accomplishes little or nothing in the long run.  We do not encourage success by removing the consequences of failure, nor do we encourage success by forcing people to deal with those consequences unaided.  Lao Tzu tells us: “In pursuing their affairs, people often fail when they are close to success.”³  This occurs when people are left to face the consequences of failure with no help and do not recognize the chance to correct the initial mistakes they made.  Aikido instructor and author Kensho Furuya states:

We do not fail because we make mistakes, we fail because we do not make mistakes correctly.

The common person turns his mistake into a bigger mistake.  The wise man turns his mistake into an advantage.⁴

We must encourage students to accept the consequences of their failure, but never to accept the failure itself.  We must help them to see that failure is not the end of the road, but merely a step along the longer road to success.

            A good test is one that has consequences for failure.  A complete test, however, includes a mechanism for the test-taker to come to acceptance of the consequences of failure and confront the test again. We must recreate a sense of danger associated with failure.  Without that sense, without that fear, there is ultimately nothing learned from failure.  It becomes an acceptable result.  This cannot be allowed.  We must push students beyond their failures.  By forcing them to confront the consequences of their failures, we force them to accept the fear of a second failure, but also to now work through that fear to a point where failure is no longer an acceptable outcome.  We must force today’s students to confront their fear of failure.  

          In some instances, the fear of failure has been too far removed from the martial arts tests of today.  This happens when students see everyone pass every test and assume that passing the test is automatic.  The basic concept is that no one who is not ready to be tested should be allowed to test, and therefore everyone passes.  There is nothing wrong with this idea as a concept, but many time ideal concepts are difficult to translate into the "real world",  and when instructors do not warn students and parents that the possibility of failure is very real, or when they allow unprepared students to ‘slide by,’ problems begin to appear.  Martial arts instructors today have been accused of ‘giving away’ and even ‘selling’ belts.  These phrases imply that the belts given to students were never actually earned through passing a challenging test.  We must strive never to allow ourselves to do this, or we remove a critical component of a complete test.

          The martial arts test must remain a test with clear and tangible consequences for failure. Rather than serving as a method of punishment, these consequences exist in order to drive students towards positive changes.  Failure in a martial arts test will result from a lack of mental, physical, or spiritual preparation and development.  Any one of these can cause the failure, but all failures of the martial arts test result in one major consequence: no promotion to the next level.  This consequence has a tangible component in that the student who fails the test does not receive a new belt, stripe, or certification, but perhaps it is the more intangible results that really make the difference.  As martial artists advance in rank, new levels of authority, status, privilege, and responsibility are (or at least should be) conferred.  The student who fails his or her test will find that his or her own levels in each of these areas remain the same.  Nothing is taken away from the student, but nothing is gained either.  It is the lack of advancement in these intangible areas that students should fear most, and this then becomes the driving force for positive development.  Instructors will fuel this motivation by helping students learn from their failures, thereby teaching the next generation to confront these failures and use them as motivation rather than to simply accept them.  Students learn to have a healthy amount of fear of failure, but are constantly encouraged to confront and overcome that fear.  Only once they have done so can it be said that they have truly earned the status that comes with advancement in rank.

Kick. Punch.  Easy Stuff.

1.      Carlson, Tucker. (2002). “Go Ahead, Hurt My Feelings,” Reader’s Digest, August, p. 46.

2.      ‘Dangers of the Hunt’ concept taken from Pinnock, Don. (1996). “Gangs Guns, and Rites of Passage,” Conflict Resolution Notes, Fall p. 8.

3.      Lao Tzu, trans. by Victor H. Mair. (1990). Tao Te Ching New York: Bantam Book), p. 35.

4.      Furuya, Kensho. (1996). Kodo: Ancient Ways Santa Clarita, CA: Ohara Publications, Inc., p. 139, and  p. 144.

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.

Developing The Curriculum: Hyung - Analysis & Synthesis

"Get the habit of analysis - analysis will in time

enable synthesis to become your habit of mind."

-Frank Lloyd Wright

      No exploration of a Black Belt Curriculum, or any traditional martial arts curriculum, should fail to include an analysis of hyung.  Hyung is at the heart of our art; it is the synthesis of all we do in Tang Soo Do.  Again, as we did with “the basics”, we should start with our Ideal Concept of becoming one with nature, and examine the nature of hyung through the principles of Um and Yang. Grandmaster Shin tells us:

When a person is performing hyung, they must utilize the aspect of Um and Yang in nature. The Um and Yang must me combined to the point where the individual becomes one with nature.[i]

It is difficult to isolate a single set of characteristics as they apply to hyung, because a hyung is, at its very nature, a union of many different characteristics in balance.  The basic characteristics of hyung have been documented and discussed in numerous publications, and as such, a list of these characteristics becomes somewhat redundant here.  Instead, we will look at what actually defines hyung, a word that we have already used to describe its nature: synthesis.  Dictionary.com defines synthesis as “the combining of the constituent elements of separate material or abstract entities into a single or unified entity.”[ii] So, if hyung is truly synthesis, we must identify both the “unified entity” and the “separate material or abstract entities” involved.  In order to do so, we need only to look to the English words we use to categorize Tang Soo Do and similar disciplines: martial art. Fortunately, this is one time that English actually does a passably acceptable job in translating an Asian idea.  If the unified entity is “martial art”, then the separate entities are “martial” and “art”.  Interestingly enough, we see that one of these entities is “material”, while the other is “abstract.”  This is the essence of Um and Yang, and therefore the essence of Tang Soo Do, of nature, and of hyung.

Step 1: Identify an Advanced Concept

            We have put forth that the nature of hyung is that it effectively combines all of the characteristics of Tang Soo Do.  While true, this remains too close to the Ideal for us to deconstruct and analyze in a practical manner.  In order to develop and explore an Advanced Concept regarding hyung practice, we must accept a scope that, while still quite broad, is, in the end, a bit more limited.  We have actually already identified this Advanced Concept, and merely need to put it into words:

Hyung is the synthesis of “martial” and “art.”

We have defined synthesis, but must also define each of the separate pieces to be synthesized before we can begin our deconstruction of this concept.  In so doing, we will once again determine a point from which we can guide our students towards developing their own habits of analysis and synthesis. 

            Numerous dictionaries and online resources define the word martial as: “of, relating to, or characteristic of war, warriors, soldiers, or the military.”[iii] This is, unfortunately, where the English language fails us somewhat, and why the term “martial art” itself is only passably acceptable.  The Korean word for martial is “moo” or “mu” (Chinese: wu, Japanese: bu), and is depicted in hanja, or the pictorial/ideographical form of Korean writing, as:

  

 

 This character is actually a combination of two different, yet equally important concepts, once again pointing to the duality at the core of Asian thought which cannot be separated from our practice of Tang Soo Do.  The first idea represented in this character is that of a spear, sword, or polearm, connoting the ideas of war, military, conflict, or violence.  The second idea, which is critical to understanding the concept of “martial” in the Asian sense, is represented by strokes that mean to stop, prohibit, or bring to an end, as in the suppressing of a revolt.[iv]  Thus, “martial” as it relates to our practice of Tang Soo Do, should actually be defined as: of, relating to, or characteristic of methods to stop violence, conflict, or war.

            In defining the word martial, we have a starting point, but only a starting point that will cover half of our Advanced Concept.  In order to truly reach a starting point for our curriculum, we must define what we mean by art as well.  This, in some ways is just as difficult as defining martial.  As a more abstract entity, the human race has been trying to find an acceptable definition for art since the word first came into use.  What art is, and what it isn’t, has sparked debate and argument that we do not pretend will be resolved here.  We can, though, arrive at a workable definition that will fit our goal of relaying our Advanced Concept to our black belt students.   Somewhat loosely defined, art is defined as “the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.”[v] While this definition may seem broad, it actually once again fails to convey the true meaning of the word as it is meant to be understood in Asian terms. 

            The Korean word for art, as we mean it in the term “martial art”, is pronounced as “sul” or “sool” (Chinese: shu, Japanese: jutsu) and is traditionally depicted as:

 

  

According to prolific martial arts writer Dave Lowry, this character is “written with the radical element for ‘road’ along with a character that acts phonetically to mean ‘twisting’ and simultaneously ‘adhering.’”[vi]  Thus, in order to truly create art in an Asian sense, and therefore to truly crate art from our practice of hyung, we must adhere to a twisting road, or, in more simple terms, we must have unwavering dedication to that which is difficult, but ultimately necessary in order to reach a desired goal.  Finally, we can define the word art, for our purposes, as:

the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance, created only through unwavering dedication to that which is difficult, but ultimately necessary in order to reach a desired goal.

This may be a difficult definition to fully comprehend, but it is nonetheless necessary in order for us to begin our analysis of how to begin training our black belts in hyung.

            Ultimately, even this will not serve to help us realize the full synthesis of hyung, for Tang Soo Do is not simply a martial art, it is a martial Way. Way, in the sense we mean it here, refers to our path or direction throughout all aspects of our lives, and is in Korean pronounced as “Do” (Chinese: Tao, Japanese: Do), and is traditionally represented by the following character:

  

 

  

True understanding of this character may be beyond our human ability, as it represents not only a person walking down a path, but The Path, that leads towards ultimate understanding and enlightenment.  We cannot truly create a definition for this, because Do represents nature itself, and therefore the fundamental characteristics that comprise the entire universe.  However, if we bring this back to a human scale, we can say that, ultimately, one is on The Path, or is following The Way, when one reaches a state of harmony and balance between mind, body and spirit. This is what we truly attempt to do when we practice hyung.  

Step 2: Uncover Basic Concepts

            Before we begin to deconstruct our Advanced Concept and start to discuss the execution of hyung, I feel it is important to first discuss a common misconception that many new black belts seem to have: that they “know” a form simply because they have memorized its movements and performed it many times. Recently, I conducted an experiment in my own classes in which the following question was asked:

“What is the highest form you know?”

Unsurprisingly, many of the black belts answered with the name of the most advanced hyung to which they had memorized the movements.  Perhaps this is because they have been conditioned to answer this way, so the question was rephrased and presented as:

“What is the most advanced form with which you are reasonably comfortable?”

Again the majority of the black belts responded in the same way.  One black belt, though, responded with “Sae Kye Hyung Il Bu”, the first form.  This black belt had been paying attention.   As Grandmaster Hwang Kee said:

It would be disrespectful to consider that one knows a form simply by virtue of having memorized a series of individual movements.[vii]

Grandmaster Shin echoes this sentiment, and goes on to emphasize that:

Knowing a specific number of hyung and their movements does not necessarily assign any value of excellence to the arts.[viii]

 

             and

Anyone can learn the simple movements of the hyung, but we cannot call it a hyung simply because someone has learned a pattern of movements.[ix]

Despite the consistent reminders of this truth, many black belts still seem to fall into the trap of believing they “know” a hyung once they have memorized the pattern, and do not seem to want to be bothered with a deeper analysis.  Some of this is due to the natural development of ego that comes with advancement in rank, and is something that every instructor must at some point face.  However, it is possible that some fault lies with the instructor as well, if he or she does not to more than tell students they don’t yet understand the form.  If we are to develop our black belts’ understanding of hyung, we must show them how much they still don’t know, and, in so doing, teach them to not resent hyung training, but instead embrace and appreciate it.

            So, once a black belt has memorized the movements and sequence of a hyung, what comes next? How do we deconstruct the synthesis of Tang Soo Do into something that can be  properly analyzed by our students in a way that will lead them toward discovery of the Basic Concepts? We have already begun in our deconstruction and classification of Tang Soo Do as a “martial art”, and in the deconstruction of the meaning of the corresponding hanja for “Moo Sool.”  We must then begin with the side of this dichotomy that will be more familiar and recognizable to our students: the martial aspects of hyung. Grandmaster Shin again explains this process as follows:

After you have learned to do the movements you must learn the combative purpose of the moves.  Without such understanding the form becomes simply an exercise sequence.  You should learn where the attack or defense is being applied on the imaginary opponent, how it is being applied, and what results could be expected from the technique.[x]

Breaking this down, we can begin to form a set of drills for our black belts by executing the following steps:

1.      Identify the combative purpose of the moves contained in hyung.

      (Why do we do the techniques in question? – Understanding)

2.      Identify ways in which the techniques in hyung are used against an opponent.

(How do we use the techniques in question? – Application)

3.      Reflect upon the expected results of the applied techniques in hyung.

(When should we use a given technique? – Improvisation)

Most instructors, and probably most black belts, do not have a significant problem with step one listed above.  We are able to pull out the individual techniques of the hyung, and even given sequences in the hyung and answer, at least with a basic level of comprehension, why that given technique or sequence would be used in a fight.  This first stage of analysis will begin to identify whether a technique is designed to function more effectively defensively or offensively, as well as what techniques best work together in combination, and will begin to assign some level of meaning to the hyung.

            It is at the second stage where many instructors and students begin to falter, or at least experience difficulty.  When identifying applications for a technique, we are all often content with the instructor demonstrating a simplistic application of the technique, then having students execute the hyung while imagining the demonstrated applications against imaginary opponents.  If we are truly to learn how to apply our techniques against an opponent, though, we must actually have an opponent.  We must have our students execute the techniques of the hyung with a partner, and eventually, multiple partners.  We must expose black belts to the concept that just because they know one application for a given technique, this still does not mean they “know” the hyung, nor even that they “know” the given single technique. They must be encouraged to explore many different applications for each technique, and then must be encouraged to build these upon these applications by executing a series of techniques in the hyung in combination.  Eventually, the black belt student should be able to string together a set of applications, with multiple opponents, for the entire hyung.  We have now uncovered a Basic Concept:

While the techniques in a hyung remain the same upon every execution of the hyung, the applications for those techniques do not.

            At this stage, then, the black belt student will begin to feel comfortable, believing that they have successfully conquered the Application stage of learning a hyung.  At this point, we must again force them into a state of discomfort, and teach them that which they still do not know.  In all likelihood, even though our black belts have now identified and executed multiple applications for each of the techniques in a given hyung, they have probably only considered attacks and defenses from one, or perhaps two, different angles of attack.  It is time for us to now expose them to additional drills in which we ask them to apply the techniques of the hyung against opponents attacking from many different angles.  To start, let us examine the first movement of our first form, in which we step 90 degrees to the left and execute a left- handed low block.  When our students first begin to work on applications of this technique with partners, they probably consider scenario one below, and, perhaps have begun to consider scenario two:

However, instructors should not let their black belts limit themselves in this way. Instead they must consider whether the same technique can still be applied in additional, potentially more difficult scenarios that are just as likely:

 

 

As the angle of attack changes, not only must the application change, but also the combative purpose of the technique.  What might be a defensive block in one situation becomes an offensive attack in another, and a defensive throw in yet another.  As instructors, we guide our black belts towards this Understanding through Application.  We also begin the early stage of Improvisation, and students begin to identify when certain applications are better than others, and develop their own applications.  Still, we are able to demonstrate to our black belts that there is more they don’t yet “know.”  Consider the following:

 

In this case, we have added even more possible angles of attack from which the student must attempt to apply the given technique from any hyung.  By illustrating a circle (with an infinite number of points) of attackers around a single defender, this image begins to reveal the truth, and in so doing, reveals some additional Basic Concepts:

While the techniques in a hyung remain the same upon every execution of the hyung, the angle of attack does not.

The possible angles of attack for which any technique may be applied are infinite.

At this point, students truly must reflect on their various applications and their expected results.  If martial applications are meant to stop or deescalate violence or conflict, is this in fact what the applications of our students work to do, or they in fact increasing the amount of violence done and escalating the tensions which arise in a fight?  If the selected applications are truly to embrace the essence of hyung, they must strive to do the former, and not the latter.  The best ways in which to use our techniques must be dynamically Improvised, based upon the nature of the attack itself.  As there are an infinite number of possible situations in which conflict arises, there are also an infinite number of possible ways in which that conflict can be stopped, only a few of which may be avoidance, deflection, use of superior force, intimidation, or immobilization. As Dave Lowry puts it:

Kata [Japanese for hyung] does not provide the “story” of a fight, it is rather the grammar that allows us to tell our own stories, as varied as the encounters one is likely to meet, with fluidity and a coherent structure that is likely to win us the battle.[xi]   

Finally, we are able to illustrate in a practical manner to our students that they will never “know” everything about a hyung, because even the merely martial possibilities are endless.

            We are beginning to see why true mastery of even one hyung takes a lifetime.  Even with all of the above analysis, we have only begun to scratch the surface.   What, then, of the art in hyung?  Previously, we have defined the word art as it applied to Tang Soo Do to mean:

the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance, created only through unwavering dedication to that which is difficult, but ultimately necessary in order to reach a desired goal.

Grandmaster Shin has again already weighed in on this concept in his analysis of hyung:

Every single movement contains feelings, meanings, spirit, theory, and philosophy.  Also, the hyung is symbolic of defense pride, honor, and devotion to one’s goals.  Without understanding all of the above elements, hyung will simply be an exercise in physical exertion.[xii]

This quote contains all of the ideas represented in our definition of art.  It indicates that properly executed hyung have aesthetic beauty, qualities that are of more than ordinary significance, and are representative of devotion (unwavering dedication) to one’s goals.  How can we help our students to achieve this level?  There is only one way: through repetition.

As Grandmaster Shin puts it:

The idea behind the creation of hyung is that through constant repetition, physical movements of the form become ingrained and automatic, and the mental battle becomes logical and calculated, to the point that we are no longer distracted by our own emotions or physical awareness.  When this is achieved, the unification of Body, Mind, and Spirit begins, and we move closer to true aesthetic perfection.[xiii]

 

The founder of modern Okinawan and Japanese Karate, Gichin Funakoshi, also indicates that repetition and constant devotion to training is necessary in order to master a hyung (kata):

Others have mastered the kata you are practicing. Why then are you unable to? Is there something wrong with you? These are the questions you must ask yourself; then you must train until you fall from exhaustion; then soon you must continue, using the same strict regimen.[xiv]

Once again we are confronted with the idea that true mastery, and true art, in the practice of hyung can come only with steadfast devotion and unwavering dedication. To put it yet another way, as famous American football coach Vince Lombardi once said, “Practice does not make perfect.  Only perfect practice makes perfect.”[xv] Perfect practice of hyung can only be achieved when one is willing to push oneself through countless repetitions with an unyielding and unending desire to perfect each and every movement.  One must be willing to the hyung “one more time” every time, and must be willing to submit to the corrections of the instructor, however minute and insignificant they may seem, for in the pursuit of true artistic perfection, nothing is minute or insignificant.

            The problem we tend to encounter as instructors when attempting to instill these beliefs in our students is a difficult one to overcome.  Because our students are surrounded today by a world of instant gratification, and because the average age of our black belts is trending younger and younger, more and more modern black belts see the required repetition as boring. This is a concept that turns up surprisingly often in martial arts literature.  Grandmaster Shin tells us, that without the proper guidance, “the student may misinterpret the hyung and see it as boring or useless.  Unfortunately, this is a lament much heard by today’s students.”[xvi]  Forrest E. Morgan, author of famed martial arts manual, Living the Martial Way, says (somewhat tongue-in-cheek), “Forms practice is probably the one feature of martial arts training most disliked by Americans.  Let’s face it, it’s repetitive, it’s boring, and most students don’t see any point in it.”[xvii]  Finally, martial arts essayist Wendell E. Wilson tells us, “Boredom with the repetitive nature of training and practice is a challenge facing everyone who wishes to master a skill or an art.”[xviii]  We must then alter this perception, and in so doing we establish another Basic Concept of hyung training:

Constant and unwavering repetition, while necessary to produce art, does not have to be boring.

In fact, it easily argued that if something instills a feeling of boredom, there is no art in it.  As this is clearly not the case with hyung, it is my belief that if a person is bored by the practice of hyung, than the individual is practicing hyung wrong. 

            How do we ensure that this trap does not ensnare our own students?  We must make repetition interesting, fun, and we must, at times, fool our students by ensuring that while they are, in fact, repeating the same basic movements time after time, they actually believe they are doing something different.  This is not to say that the traditional methods of repetition should be abandoned.  Maintaining traditional training methods is crucial to our identity as an art, and cannot be sacrificed.  However, it is important that we also identify additional methods for developing art in hyung, without simultaneously generating boredom.

We must analyze the aesthetic values of hyung, and create new drills that emphasize these aesthetics.

            The fundamental aesthetic feature of hyung, beyond mere physical beauty attained by perfection of technique, is rhythm. Rhythm is an essential feature in the practice of hyung, and without it, one is neither creating art, nor truly practicing hyung.  At the beginning stages of our training, it is important that we adhere to a set, pre-defined rhythm in our hyung that matches the prescribed count of the movements.  At some point, this rhythm may not match the individual characteristics of a student, and at this point it begins to feel constraining and robotic. Grandmaster Shin explains this as follows:

The individual flow of movements are different according to the conditions of an individual’s inherent body structure, their mental and physical condition, and environmental circumstance.  Also, the individual’s life cycle, such as breathing, pulse, metabolism, and individual habits affect the hyung.  On the other hand, the hyung demands uniformity.  In order to harmonize the two (standard requirement and individual condition) to perform in balanced beauty, a rhythm is absolutely necessary.  This must be developed to an individual’s own excellence.  This is why we must learn and practice by the count or command, and then again without the count or command.[xix]

We need to discuss this with our students, because it is actually at this point that Understanding has come to them, and Application and Improvisation can begin.  Instead of feeling frustrated by the constraints of the traditional rhythm that was, up to this point, a completely necessary form of practice, they must be encouraged to explore their own rhythm and interpretation of the hyung.  It is here that art is found.  This is a particularly difficult transition for a black belt to make, and one that must be carefully monitored by an instructor who has been through this himself.  As Dave Lowry puts it:

It is a narrow road to walk.  If we start extemporizing too soon, before we truly understand the fundamentals of kata, we are wasting our time.  If we continue, year after year, to just copy, never thinking of our individual take on these same kata, we are spinning our wheels as well.[xx]

How then are we to identify the students who are ready to make this transition, and how do we assist them in doing so?  Primarily, we can do this through observation of their adaptability to changing rhythms set by the instructor.  One of the best ways to do this is through the use of a drum, but can also be done effectively with the modulation of an instructor’s ki hap.  In the normal execution of a hyung, the rhythm may be described as metronomic in nature, with predefined pauses between each count, yielding a basic structure that would be numbered as: 1,2,3,4,5,6, etc., in which the numbers indicate individual beats or techniques, and the commas indicate pauses.  At some point, the instructor should begin to experiment with the rhythm of the hyung in order to test the student’s adaptability and readiness for change.  In this case, the new rhythm may be 1-2, 3-4, 5, 6-7-8, 9-10, 11-12, 13, 14-15-16, etc.  Here, the dashes indicate that a series of beats or movements is performed in rapid succession, with little to no pause between, and the commas indicate the longer, extended periods of rest or pauses. Rhythm may continue to become increasingly complicated, or may be very simple, but it must always follow a pattern.  Perhaps this is a pattern of similar beats, such as 1-2-3, 4-5-6, 7-8-9, or perhaps it is a pattern of changing, yet repeating beats, such as 1, 2-3, 4-5-6, 7, 8-9, 10-11-12.  In any case, the student is performing the same movements, but in a way that the mind and body will perceive as different.

            If a student is able to keep up with, and then replicate these changing rhythms on his own, without faltering, he has demonstrated Application, through the ability to apply various different rhythms to the hyung.  He is now ready for Improvisation, the point at which he may develop and interpret his own rhythm, one that fits him in terms of body mechanics, personal philosophy, and attitude.  While the student must be truly ready before attempting this, the result is art.  We find that, at this stage,

No one hyung, as performed by each individual, is the same.  Each individual brings their own unique beauty to each hyung. Therefore, the perfect hyung is a manifestation of the individual’s perfection.[xxi]

We have, ultimately, in our exploration of hyung as art, uncovered another of our Basic Concepts:

True “living” hyung is an ultimate expression of the individual.

            Our hypothetical black belt students have now demonstrated proficiency with both the martial and the art in hyung.  Can it be said, then, at this point that they “know” the hyung?  Not yet.  In order to truly master a hyung, and individual must demonstrate all this and more. The hyung must become a tool for embracing the Do in Tang Soo Do. He must move away from simple analysis and move towards the synthesis of Mind, Body, and Spirit.  At this level, one cannot separate Understanding, Application, and Improvisation, because all three concepts are one and the same.  It is at this point that the student is able to move beyond any artificial constraint, and is free to enjoy “meditation in motion”, in which he is able to contemplate the physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of the hyung, while not actually dwelling on any of the three.

Step 3: Understand, Apply & Improvise

            If we review the previous section of this Chapter, we see that it was impossible to separate the discovery of our Basic Concepts from the stages of Understanding, Application, and Improvisation.  Each attempt to deconstruct the characteristics of hyung at an advanced level ultimately resisted being pulled apart, and instead had to be reconstructed into something new.  In so doing, Understanding, Application, and Improvisation were all required and documented. However, it is possible to now examine the synthesis we have generated and see things at yet another level.  In order to deconstruct hyung, we looked at its characteristics in terms of Moo, or martial, Sool, or art, and Do, or The Way.  Each of these individual Advanced Concepts lends itself to a reconstruction and synthesis as well.  In these terms, Moo implies Application, Sool implies Improvisation, and Do implies Understanding in its ultimate sense. If we reexamine our initial look at the characteristics of a black belt, then, we get:

  

 

 Hyung: Conclusions

            This post proved to be extraordinarily difficult to write.  Attempting to deconstruct that which is the total synthesis of our art, and is at the same time at its most basic foundation, is no easy task.  I applaud those martial artists, masters, and Grandmasters who have paved the way for me to make this attempt.  I only hope that in the end I have been able to add some of my own insight to a topic that can easily become overwhelming.  In our analysis of hyung, we have discovered the following.  Advanced Concepts appear in bold, while Basic Concepts appear in Italics:

1. Hyung is the synthesis of “martial” and “art.” (and, in being so, provides a tool for seeking The Way.)
2. While the techniques in a hyung remain the same upon every execution of the hyung, the applications for those techniques do not.
3. While the techniques in a hyung remain the same upon every execution of the hyung, the angle of attack does not.
4. The possible angles of attack for which any technique may be applied are infinite.
5. Constant and unwavering repetition, while necessary to produce art, does not have to be boring.
6. True “living” hyung is an ultimate expression of the individual.

It is hoped that a deeper analysis of this post may, in fact, cause readers to identify Additional Advanced and Basic Concepts inherent in hyung.  In so doing, they can begin to form their own drills for their Black Belt Curricula.  Concepts of changing tension and relaxation in instead of changing rhythms may be explored.  Concepts of how performing the hyung at different angles affects its execution might be examined.  Hyung, as the synthesis of Tang Soo Do , has much and more to offer in terms of the Conceptual Teaching Model. While hyung is the heart of the art, and the synthesis of Tang Soo Do, it is not all we do.  The Black Belt Curriculum must include still more.

 

Kick. Punch. Easy Stuff.

---

[i] Shin, Jae Chul. (2000). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume IV: The Advanced Hyung Philadelphia, PA: Jae Chul Shin, n.pag.

[ii] http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/synthesis?s=t

[iii] http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/martial?s=t, http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/martial, http://www.thefreedictionary.com/Martial

[iv] Lowry, Dave. (1995). Sword and Brush: The Spirit of The Martial Arts Boston, MA: Dave Lowry, p. 20

     Wilson, Wendell E. (2010) The Meaning of Bu and Budo: http://www.minrec.org/wilson/pdfs/Concepts-- Bu%20and%20Budo.pdf

[v] http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/art?s=t

[vi] [vi] Lowry, Dave. (1995). Sword and Brush: The Spirit of The Martial Arts Boston, MA: Dave Lowry, p.23

[vii] Hwang, Kee. (1978). Tang Soo Do (Soo Bahk Do) Springfield, NJ: Hwang Kee, p.351

[viii] Shin, Jae Chul. (1994). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume II: The Basics Philadelphia, PA: Jae C. Shin, p.119

[ix] Shin, Jae Chul. (2000). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume IV: The Advanced Hyung Philadelphia, PA: Jae Chul Shin, p.3

[x] Shin, Jae Chul. (1994). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume II: The Basics Philadelphia, PA: Jae C. Shin, p.121

[xi] Lowry, Dave. (2002), Traditions: Essays on the Japanese Martial Arts and Ways Boston, MA: Dave Lowry. p. 45

[xii] Shin, Jae Chul. (2000). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume IV: The Advanced Hyung Philadelphia, PA: Jae Chul Shin, p.3

[xiii] Shin, Jae Chul. (1994). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume II: The Basics Philadelphia, PA: Jae C. Shin, p.115

[xiv] Funakoshi, Gichin. (1975). Karate-Do: My Way of Life New York, NY: Gichin Funakoshi, p. 107

[xv] http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/v/vincelomba138158.html

[xvi] Shin, Jae Chul. (2000). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume IV: The Advanced Hyung Philadelphia, PA: Jae Chul Shin, preface

[xvii] Morgan, Forrest E. (1992). Living The Martial Way Fort Lee, NJ: Forrest E. Morgan, p. 69

[xviii] Wilson, Wendell E. (2010) Essays on the Martial Arts: Boredom and Repetition,    

     http://www.minrec.org/wilson/pdfs/Boredom%20and%20Repetition.pdf

[xix] Shin, Jae Chul. (2000). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume IV: The Advanced Hyung Philadelphia, PA: Jae Chul Shin, p.7

[xx] Lowry, Dave. (2002), Traditions: Essays on the Japanese Martial Arts and Ways Boston, MA: Dave Lowry, p. 46

[xxi] Shin, Jae Chul. (2000). Traditional Tang Soo Do Volume IV: The Advanced Hyung Philadelphia, PA: Jae Chul Shin, p.8