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The very nature of a question, even a silent one, is that it calls for an answer. The answer may not come to us immediately, but from the moment we dare ask the question, we should be prepared because sooner or later an answer will come seeking us out.
Since 1987 when I was promoted to master and received a red stripe on the midnight blue belt which I had worn since 1976, I have often wondered why the Kwan Jang Nim choose red for the master's stripe. He could have chosen any color he desired, yet he selected the red of a red belt; one rank below midnight blue. Was it to suggest that now we masters would begin "ripening" from our experiences, as the Gup manual says red symbolizes? Did he chose it to remind masters that we were once red belts years ago? Was it to be a constant reminder for us to embody the kyom son (humility) of a lower rank? Every candidate for master would have worn a solid midnight blue belt for a decade or more, why would Kwan Jang Nim now choose to put the lower rank stripe of red belt right down the center? Then, why would masters of all future ranks forever wear their belt decorated with only that red stripe and no further rank indicators? Why red? I should have known that an answer was already barreling toward me from somewhere in the cosmos.
It began innocently enough in the fall of 1997, ten years after I had first pondered my question about the color of the master's stripe. A 1st Gup red belt student had submitted an article to Headquarters for the national newsletter in which she described her enjoyable experience of training under Sa Bom Nim Hwang's guidance at a recent seminar. During our communication about her article, she also mentioned another one about "Loyalty" which she had been gestating for a while and asked me for comments. Later that evening, I sat down at my desk at home and looked out the window at the approaching sunset as I printed out a copy for a quick read.
My first Instructor, Kyo Sung Chu characterized life with one simple statement, "Life has no guarantees." How true it is. One moment our life is progressing nicely in an orderly manner and in the next moment an unexpected event turns it into total chaos instead of order. When I began reading this red belt's article about "Loyalty," I was firmly set in my beliefs and perspectives and fully intent on remaining that way, but then...
"Life has no guarantees."
John Chu
I found myself growing unsettled even before I finished reading the second paragraph of this student's words on loyalty. They were invoking a flood of unsolicited and deeply personal introspection. The passion with which she had inscribed her words on paper branded them indelibly in my mind. Her message was honest, sincere and expressed with a conviction that was clearly recognizable as unfaltering loyalty. It was a message about the true nature of loyalty, which was pertinent for every student and every instructor.
"If you walk the footsteps of a stranger, you'll learn things you never knew, you never knew."
Unknown
When I finished the final paragraph, I gazed out my window at the evening sun and thought about the unforgettable nature of her words and how "not forgetting" is an important aspect of loyalty. Webster's says loyalty is being faithful to a person, an ideal, a custom, a cause, or a duty. So in essence, a loyal person willingly makes a commitment to "never forget" their pledge of allegiance and duty. They dedicate themselves and all of their actions to unfailingly demonstrating their loyalty. They resolve that nothing will become more important than their loyalty and they make a conscious decision to endure any and all hardships, which might come with being loyal. Whether the vow of loyalty being expressed is spoken as the words "I do" in a marriage ceremony or whether it is the silent commitment which most often occurs from a student to an instructor, it is still loyalty. The moment the commitment is forgotten, it is no longer loyalty; it just becomes a word spoken by someone who did not consider all that might be required to remain loyal.
The sun dipped closer to the horizon and each of my thoughts about this student's article evoked more respect for a person I hardly even knew. Her eloquently expressed red belt perspective invited me to be the student and caused me to reflect on some intriguing aspects of student loyalty which are often overlooked because of our rank protocol. I glimpsed the complimentarity, or Um Yang aspects of loyalty, as I never had before.
I only ever remembered reading one brief comment about the complimentarity of loyalty as it was made by Sa Bom Nim Hwang in the Instructor Newsletter when he addressed the question of whether or not one could change their instructor. In that article he pointed out that if disharmony should occur between a student and instructor it was important for both of them to examine how they may have contributed to the unfortunate situation in their relationship. His article emphasized that active students in the Moo Duk Kwan were expected to honor their original expression of loyalty to their instructor. As I thought about his statement that both instructor and student should examine their contributions to their relationship, I also realized that students do change their instructors all the time. They quit.
Remembering Sa Bom Nim's comments and having just read a student's words expressing the epiphany of loyalty, I paused to reexamine my role as a senior and an instructor from the unique perspective of this loyal student. Ironically, it was a perspective I was already very familiar with since I had always pictured myself as a loyal student, but I had never really pictured myself on the receiving end of loyalty from a student like described in this article. I had never really evaluated what it might mean to them --or should mean to me-- if I was receiving such loyalty. This student's words made me wonder if I had been unaware of the scope of the loyalty of my students. Sure, they were always taught our "Moo Do" protocol and they always demonstrated the respect for their seniors in the ways we are all familiar with, as did I to them. However, I never really asked myself if the loyalty I gave to them truly mirrored the loyalty they gave to me.
Perhaps I never thought about it from this exact perspective because so many students quit that it was very difficult for me to believe any student was loyal unless they had proven themselves by training for months or years. The more I thought about this attitude, the more I began to see the terrible flaw in expecting students to "prove" their loyalty with longevity when I might already be receiving their full loyalty and yet be unaware that I was. That attitude probably kept me from properly acknowledging their demonstrations of loyalty and it may have even encouraged me to be undisciplined or casual about reciprocating the loyalty they were giving me in the very moments that I was receiving it.
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon as I reflected on this thought and more words from Sa Bom Nim Hwang came to mind. In a recent Sa Bom class, he had discussed how his review of Dan candidate's written exams revealed that nearly every student testing for Dan expressed a very strong connection to the philosophy of our art. He then asked us to consider our teaching methods and the manner and timing we used in introducing the Eight Key Concepts to new students. He observed that if our lack of discipline as an instructor prevented us from introducing the philosophy to a new student (via Key Concepts) at the first available opportunity, then that student might be one of those who never returned to class. He noted that if we had taken advantage of the very first opportunity (even in intro lessons) to connect the student with the philosophy, they might have had more motivation to return to class and learn more about how to use the philosophy or to learn another aspect of it. They might have become one of those writing a Dan exam paper if we had best reciprocated the loyalty the student had given us by appearing in our class at that moment.
Then I recalled a Federation statistic revealing that 50% of all students quit training each year and only one in ten students train to the rank of Dan. A cursory consideration of these facts could lead one to assume that very few students understand the concept of loyalty, but Sa Bom Nim Hwang's words and this red belt's words about loyalty were now making me doubt that would be a valid conclusion. Perhaps as an instructor, I needed to better understand why loyalty was first born and why it is such fragile thing that only lives from moment to moment and class to class in a new student.
"Perhaps as an instructor, I needed to better understand why loyalty was first born and why it is such fragile thing that only lives from moment to moment and class to class in a new student."
I had never really thought about when or why the birth of loyalty occurred in students because I had perceived that it only existed in those who had "proven" themselves. I just taught classes and waited for loyalty to appear in the form of senior students. I thought I had always done what an instructor was supposed to do, students came to class and I taught them. I had always felt that I was being as loyal to my students as they were to me, but now I questioned that perspective. Had I done all that I could to demonstrate my loyalty to them as early as possible in their training? After all, my students had willingly bestowed their loyalty on me and given me their unquestioning trust the very first day they stepped in my Dojang. What was I waiting for? They knew only what I taught them about this strange new activity and they trusted me to do everything I could to help them succeed in their daunting new martial art endeavor. They literally entrusted me with their fragile new dreams. How could a white belt have given me any more loyalty than that?
In my next thought, this red belt student's words transported me back to the time when I was a wide-eyed whitebelt student peeking eagerly through the ranks from the back row, looking at the front line of seniors and loyally following their commands without question. I looked to them for inspiration, hoping that one day I could be like them, "the best" in my eyes. Literally, I dreamed of being like them. I recalled how desperately I had wanted my seniors to show me that my fragile dreams could come true, that one day I might become as skilled and knowledgeable as they. I wanted to see their best demonstrations and have their example burned into my memory so I could take them home with me after every class. I wanted them to help me achieve my dreams and the only thing I had to offer them in return was my white belt loyalty. Somehow it seemed an insignificant price to pay for my dreams.
Never before had I realized that dreams were such an important force in our motivation to be loyal. Webster's defines dreams as images, ideas, emotions, and sensations occurring involuntarily in the mind, a wild fancy or hope, a condition of achievement that is longed for; an aspiration. Part of that definition sounds a lot like our Moo Duk Kwan philosophy of aspiring toward ever increasing perfection. Hmmm.... the dream of perfection. Human nature also dictates that each of us involuntarily crave "belonging" and "recognition." Hmmm..... those also fit the definition of a dream.
Suddenly, the image of me as a white belt student peering through the ranks was magically transformed into one of me as a senior standing in the front row! When I glanced back over my shoulder, all I could see were eager eyes peering through the ranks looking at the front row where I now stood. One red belt's eyes were particularly piercing. I was no longer hidden in the ranks looking forward, I was on the front line looking backward from whence I had come. Wow! What a strange feeling it was to have my entire perspective rotated 180 degrees by the words of a single, loyal red belt student 2000 miles away!
As I pictured myself in the front line, from the perspective this student's words now forced me to consider, my own original student dreams flooded back into my mind, but with a new twist. Before, when perceiving myself only as a student, it made my dreams seem mostly about me improving for me, by aspiring to be the best, like my seniors. However, from this new perspective the dream beckoned me to be at my best by helping others to be at their best -- by being at my best. Obviously, that is what a senior and instructor should do, but from this new perspective I suspected that I had fallen short in understanding all that I needed to have done to have been at "my best" and properly reciprocated my student's loyalty toward me and our art. Now, I questioned if I had contributed as much to my relationship with them as I could have. If even one student had ever felt a loyalty as passionate as described by this red belt and I had abused it or neglected it, how could I possibly redeem myself? The faces of three white belts from my past flashed into my mind and lingered there, looking at me for just a moment, then they were gone.... just like the real students...... OK, so maybe I could improve at earning and reciprocating student loyalty, but how?
This time I did not have to wait a decade for an answer, unpleasant ones came hurling back at me instantly. A very displeased voice in my head began citing undisciplined actions from my past, which I had never recognized or admitted to be the careless and casual acts of disloyalty toward my own students, which it sternly declared they were.
First, I was rebuffed for my cutting remarks to students when I had lost patience with them or been unsatisfied with their efforts. The voice asked, "Did your students have the option to express their disappointment with you when your instruction was less than motivational for them? No, your students had to be more disciplined than you, or they had to quit to voice their displeasure."
Then, the voice asked if I would feel more loyalty toward one who encouraged me and helped me to achieve my student dreams or one who ignored they even existed or critiqued me so frequently that my dreams became fuzzier and fuzzier until I could no longer even see them.
As I thought about whether or not I had effectively taught my students how to move toward their dreams, I realized that one can't teach what one does not know and perhaps I had been unaware that "belonging" and being "recognized" were even dreams in my student's minds. Maybe I was not even fully aware of them in my own mind. If I had known this years ago, then I could have moved new students toward their secret dreams of being "recognized" and of "belonging" simply by using those two words during my presentation of Federation membership. Suddenly, I recalled the enjoyable feeling I had experienced when I received my "first" Federation ID card. It was so many years, and so many cards ago that I had just forgotten its importance to me, but for new students it is their "first." Sa Bom Nim Hwang had emphasized the importance of introducing students to the Eight Key Concepts as early as possible in their training in order to connect them with the philosophy of our art and thus encourage their longevity as students. Now, it seemed to me that perhaps it could have been equally beneficial to have shown them how to "belong" to the group we call the Federation as soon as possible and to have shown them how they would be "recognized" by, and connected with, all the other members.
My thoughts were interrupted as the voice boomed again with a new question asking me if I had done all I could to earn my students loyalty with regard to their rank certification. I was confused by the question for a moment and then creeping dread came over me as I began to recall occasions when I had forgotten to submit student's testings or failed to hand out certificates in a timely manner. Now I was even thinking about the certificates that I still had in a drawer for students who had already quit before I ever got around to presenting them. Hmmm... cause or effect?
I wanted to defend myself by explaining that I was just very busy those times, but the voice would hear no excuse. It simply reminded me that I valued being connected to the founder of our art by my rank certification, and yet I had deprived my own loyal students of the very thing I valued so much. Though difficult to admit, these thoughts about how I had failed to reciprocate my student's loyalty were beginning to challenge my old perspectives and the thoughts were certainly not as pleasant as I would have preferred.
My mind drifted back to the time when I had tested for 4th Dan. I remembered Kwan Jang Nim telling us that Ko Dan Ja are his direct representatives and just as that thought was completed, the voice spoke up and inquired if I had been the best representative for him that I could. The question caused an image to flash in my mind of huge 20-foot tall concrete letters spelling out his "Mission 2000" objectives and I cringed when I saw myself chipping away at them with a hammer of undisciplined behavior. Somehow, I had just failed to see how my undisciplined actions violated my student's loyalty and contradicted my own vow of loyalty to Kwan Jang Nim.
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"Somehow, I had just failed to see how my undisciplined actions violated my student's loyalty and contradicted my own vow of loyalty to Kwan Jang Nim."
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I was feeling pretty battered by now, so I consoled myself with thoughts of a fellow instructor who had consistently discouraged his students from attending Federation events or training at other Federation studios when the opportunity was available to them. He told them they should only go if he did and if he did not go they should not go. I knew he had never recognized the nature of his actions as being disloyal to his students and their natural desire to learn because even though he once had hundreds of students, he has none today and he is no longer even a Federation member. Ironically, many of the students he tried to control still are. His plight seemed to demonstrate how the flaws in our actions which we cannot recognize, or which we are unwilling to change, can be our undoing while recognizing and changing them can be our salvation. At least I still had an opportunity that he did not, thanks to this red belt's words.
For a moment, I reflected on the stability and structure of our art and the Moo Duk Kwan philosophy, which I hold so dear. Then, I realized that even though our art is founded on unchanging tradition, it is really about constant change. After all, how can we be improving our skills if we are not changing how we perform them? I remembered students who had a flawed technique, which had remained that way no matter how much I attempted to help them improve it. Because they could not change, they could not improve. Most often, they could not change because they were unable to develop an awareness of their problem area. If they could have achieved awareness of the flaw in their technique, then they might have been able to imagine themselves performing the improved version of the technique as instructed. The old saying came to mind; "A fault recognized is half corrected." How very true, without being recognized, our faults are never corrected. It immediately became evident to me that denying the flaws in my actions, judgments and beliefs had been much easier than recognizing them, for this recognition was requiring both Kyom Son and Chung Jik. It was also requiring that I accept personal responsibility for any consequences my past actions had wrought. Not easy things to do. I knew changing my old perspectives would be difficult, but only change marks the path of improvement in all aspects of life.
As my eyes drifted into focus, I discovered the morning sun rising above the purple autumn horizon with no idea of where the night had gone. I could only surmise that it had been consumed by this storm of thoughts. I leaned over and placed the "Loyalty" article on my desk and lifted the window to smell the crisp, dawn air. As I inhaled the first breath, I recognized this as one of those points of no return. If I made the personal commitments I was considering, there could be no turning back. It would mean applying new disciplines in several aspects of my life and changing some of my long-held perspectives; even beliefs. Then I realized that if doing so might help encourage the continued loyalty of students as dedicated to our art as described by this red belt, this might be the best action I could ever undertake for my personal growth as an instructor.
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"...even though our art is founded on unchanging tradition, it is really about constant change. After all, how can we be improving our skills if we are not changing how we perform them?"
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I never imagined a master learning as much from a student as a student from a master. This was quite a lesson in humility for me which also enlightened me about some less obvious aspects of loyalty and reminded me of the dreams burning in the heart and mind of every student, including my own, which are vital components of our loyalty. If we lose sight of the dreams, which gave birth to our loyalty, then loyalty may die with those dreams, as it so often does in new students. My student dreams of being "my best" now had a shiny new Um Yang gloss on them because of this red belt's words. They gleaned with a clarity and brilliance I had long forgotten and were possessed with a sense of urgency I could not even recall when they were newly born. They literally dared me to aspire to be my best at earning and reciprocating the loyalty of students like described in her article. This sparkling new sheen on my dreams was promising to make my quest into the future even more enjoyable than the one from the past.
The sun was rising higher in the clear morning sky and my thoughts were soaring. What a magic opportunity this red belt had presented to me! I began imagining all that could happen if I could successfully overcome present reality and live these vividly renewed dreams now evoked in me. How much better instructor and student might I become?
The face of a red belt appeared in my mind with eyes shining greater expectation on me than I had ever seen. Her gaze cast a belief upon me, which I was more accustomed to giving my seniors than receiving.
A brisk autumn breeze blew through my open window and urged me over to where my uniform hung with my belt draped over it. As I lifted my dobalk from its perch, I swear my master's belt looked more like a red belt bordered by two blue stripes than a midnight blue belt with a center red stripe. Hmmm... 1st Gup red belts also wear two blue stripes...
As I tied my belt and looked down at my waist, I saw the red belt again with two blue stripes bordering it end to end. They reminded me of the first time I had ever worn two blue stripes and the eager red belt desires and dreams which were in my heart at the time. Then, the long blue stripes transformed into two midnight blue belts tightly embracing the red belt, almost as if protecting, and I heard passionate, "unforgettable" words about loyalty being whispered in my ear. An urgent and powerful force coursed through me, evoking a strong new desire to strive twice as diligently to be "my best" as an instructor and student. I closed my eyes for a moment to savor this compelling sensation and my renewed dreams immediately filled the darkness. They too, beckoned me to rededicate myself to being "my best" as an instructor and to being as committed to earning loyalty as the student in the article to giving it. What a personal challenge! Was all this the feeling of "ripening?" Suddenly, a tempest of energy swirled through my room and crackled in the air. Changes were definitely coming - perhaps appropriate for my season.
I made a mental note as an instructor and a student, to "never forget" the awesome power unleashed when we trust -- and believe in one, who believes in us.
Clearly, it's the power of mutual loyalty.
I still did not know if any of this was why Kwan Jang Nim had chosen red for the master's stripe, but a decade after asking my question, this was the answer that had found me. As I imagined the opportunities it offered, I was certain, that on this exciting journey, I would never lose my way. I could clearly see the road that was paved for my success. It is a midnight blue colored path -- forever marked by this student -- right down the center with a loyal red stripe.
Phil Duncan
1998
