Little Black Belt is FOUR!

number 4

My blog turns four today! Thank you for reading and commenting on my posts. I’m glad I could reach people all over the world and share my love of the life changing martial art taekwondo. During the past year I went through a major change at work, learned the mystery of  a lingering health problem, and passed my second Dan test. To celebrate my blog’s birthday I’m sharing my favorite posts from the past year. Enjoy!

1. You ARE Something (Other People Believe It, So It’s About Time You Did) (April 2017) A new opportunity at work teaches me about valuing myself as much as others do.

2. The Best Birthday (July 2017) My master and fellow students make my birthday one of the happiest ever.

3. You Are Who You’ve Been Waiting For (August 2017) A speech at a work event teaches all of us about the power of stepping into who we really are and what we can really accomplish.

4. So I’m Eating Meat Again: a Cautionary Tale of the Rules We Place on Ourselves (September 2017) I realize that my foray into vegetarianism triggered a latent eating disorder and I take up hamburgers again.

5. Leadership Toolbox: the Power of Practice (October 2017) I see a lot of parallels between black belt leadership and the leadership skills I encourage people to develop at work. Just like being a good taekwondo student and instructor, being a good leader takes diligence and practice.

6. Saying Goodbye to the Parasites In Our Lives (October 2017) A little microbe I named Plankton and the relationship I had with “him” taught me that sometimes it’s harder than we think to give up things that are ultimately harmful to us.

7. Getting a Black Belt vs. Being a Black Belt: Thoughts on Testing for Second Dan  (November 2017) The day before my second dan test I reflected on what it means to pass the test and the responsibility attached to actually wearing the belt.

8. Being Okay With Where You Are (November 2017) A yoga class and a botched board break teach me that it’s okay to be forgiving of myself and accept where I am and what I’m capable of doing moment to moment. (And you can do that too!)

9. Why I Teach (Even Though I Want Everyone to Leave Me Alone) (February 2018) I have a love/hate relationship with teaching and presenting, a skill I’ve cultivated both in the workplace and in taekwondo. I seem to have a knack for guiding, coaching, and inspiring people, but damnit, sometimes I just want to be quiet and not talk to anyone for a week. My blessing is my curse, sigh.

10. You Know More Than You Think You Do: What I Learned from Practicing “That Old Japanese Form” (The Poomsae Series Part 14) (February 2018) This post marked the end of both The Poomsae Series as we know it for now and the end of a treasured student-teacher relationship and the lesson I was able to carry with me.

Thank you for reading. Let’s make it another good year!

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Taekwondo Has Become an Afterthought and an Albatross

broken-heart

I used to be a taekwondo person with a growing career. Now I’m a successful career person who just happens to have a (2nd degree) black belt in taekwondo.

I don’t like that feeling.

Sure, I have a poster in my office that says “A Black Belt is a White Belt Who Refused to Give Up,” and I go to class once or twice a week…and that’s it. I don’t think about it much. In reviewing the past several months prepping for my four year anniversary blog post I realized I didn’t write about it much either, even last year when I was heavily preparing for my 2nd Dan test. Regular life has taken over, and taekwondo has taken a back seat.

Taekwondo had a very prominent place in my life for several years, and within a few months it suddenly dropped to nearly nonexistent. I’m just now starting to notice the negative effects. I’ve let myself get pretty stressed with increasing work demands the past few months, and I attributed a piece of it to my lack of “outlet.” I had taekwondo to look forward to almost every day for the last five years. I planned for it, thought about it, daydreamed about it, and could always count on it to be a healthy balance of all the “adulting” I had to do during my day job and just keeping up a household.

I have a nice home and nice people to visit with outside of work and nice hobbies, but I’m missing that euphoric high I used to get from a hard-working, fun taekwondo class. I’m missing my drug and my life balance. I feel like I’m missing part of my identity too.

My taekwondo world went through a huge upheaval at the end of last year. I don’t want to go into details here. Suffice it to say there was some tension and stress among everyone involved. The schedule has changed, the location has changed, and some of the people have changed. I went from going to the dojang five or six days a week to maybe two. I backed away from teaching the lower ranking class because I realized how much I disliked it and how stressful it was for me after a long day at a busy job. Now I only go to the “advanced class” once or twice a week. The temptation to stay home after a late meeting or long commute instead of going to class is fairly regular.

I’m not very happy with my current situation at my taekwondo school. I’m not getting much in the way of “black belt training,” my favorite instructor is gone, the location is sub-par, and I know I don’t have the same conditioning I had last year. There’s only so much one can do in two hours a week, especially if about half that time is spent teaching. (I also don’t have an intestinal parasite to keep me really skinny like I did last year) I’d like to train and test for third degree, and in the meantime I’d like to compete in forms and breaking at tournaments. My current situation allows me neither the time nor attention to focus on those goals.

If I were coaching me as I do with other people, I would remind myself that I do have the choice to leave…and right now I’m choosing to stay. I’m not very happy where I am but I feel like I need to stay out of obligation even though the world would not fall apart if I left. Certain people have certain expectations and assumptions about black belts and “loyalty,” and if I chose to leave there might be trouble, at least in the short-term.

I don’t know if going to another school would inspire me to make taekwondo a bigger part of my life again. I think some of that has to come from me. I think I can try harder to make the best of the situation I’m in now and come up with ways to practice taekwondo outside of the limited class time.

Right now I have eight students testing for first degree, and that is keeping me motivated and positive. I care very much about my students and am not ready to move on from them yet. After the test I think I’ll have to reevaluate my place in the school and decide whether I’m brave enough to do what’s best for me or to wait it out a little longer and hope for a deus ex machina.

When Fun Becomes Work: How to Get The Love Back

hiding under covers

Funny, the last tweet that appeared on my blog was an article I’d written for the website BookMartialArts.com titled “How Martial Arts Can Reduce Work-Related Stress.” What happens when martial arts IS the cause of my “work-related stress”?

I found myself in that situation at the beginning of this year. We were shutting down our old dojang and moving to a local community center. Imaging packing up a house you’d lived in for 20 years, chuck it all in storage, and move to an efficiency downtown. Also throw in the fact that you didn’t know from day to day when the new owner of your old trusty home is ready to kick you out and move in. I spent the first week of January working long hours at the office every day and spending every evening sorting, packing, cleaning, and commiserating with the other black belts. I was also making myself sick with worry trying to keep parents and students informed of our changing schedule. No one asked me to do it. I just decided that’s what needed to be done.

I also had a lot of demands at work: do this presentation, set up these classes, go to a staff meeting at a clinic, make an appearance at a big leadership retreat. Facilitate new employee orientation for 80-100 people every week. For someone who clearly prefers (and NEEDS) introversion I have a very people-focused job that requires me to do a lot of talking and being “on stage” whether it’s teaching a class or conducting a consulting meeting. I’m weirdly very good at it, mostly very satisfied with my job, but sometimes I absolutely hate it. It’s exhausting, so I take every little break, down time, day off, whatever solace I can, even if it’s just hiding in my office for a day. I don’t want to quit, but once in a while I get overwhelmed need a change.

That’s how I began to feel about taekwondo. After all these years it had finally felt like “work.” I’m good at what I do, enjoy it very much, but I was exhausted and starting to hate it. The first time I realized that I was near tears. I’d had plenty of moments of not feeling like going to class, but unless I was sick and truly needed to stay home, I always ended up feeling better once I got there. This one particular evening I felt in my gut I did not want to go. I didn’t want to quit, but I was overwhelmed and needed a change.

I drank a lot of wine in January and February.

I’m still coming down from two months of feeling stretched thin, sad, and worn out from over-stimulation. Here are some things I did that may help you if you’re dealing with the same love/hate situation and if you’re an introvert like me who seriously needs everyone to f*ck off once in a while:

Take a break, whatever that looks like
I’ve scheduled some random days off from work this month, and I already feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. As if the Universe was listening (it was), I’m in somewhat of  a self-imposed exile at home right now. I’m having some unplanned construction being done at home because my crappy glass tub enclosure decided to fall apart, so I’m hanging out in the Fortress of Solitude while two guys tear up my master bathroom. I’m still accessible to my coworkers and clients (and they sure do know how to find me), but I get to enjoy working in my sunlit home office, not wearing shoes and makeup, making fresh smoothies when I need a snack, and most importantly, NOT TALKING TO ANYONE unless I choose to. I have a few conference calls and possibly an in-person meeting at the end of the week. No presenting. Awesomesauce.

I’ve also taken about two weeks off taekwondo and concentrated on my workouts at the gym. This week I was finally excited about going back to taekwondo class. It felt fun again.

Maybe you can’t take time off from work in the same way, so take breaks (even if they are just mental) in whatever way works for you.

Set Boundaries
As much as I like to please people, I’ve learned how to say “no” or at least “here’s an alternative” in work situations. That’s taken some pressure off me and allows me more time to do quality work.

I told my parents they couldn’t spend the night this weekend while I was still having work done on my bathroom. Fine, they’ll meet me for lunch and visit another weekend.

I decided not to go to the earlier taekwondo classes to help out and teach (white belts and the occasional higher ranking sibling) because (1) I needed downtime between work and taekwondo (2) I don’t enjoy teaching really young kids–one or two at a time is fun but not the whole class (3) the last time I went to the early class I got stuck with two little blue belt boys who just wanted to play and piss me off and waste my time and (4) I suck at teaching white belts, and at this point in my TKD career I don’t have much interest in perfecting that skill. (Not that white belts aren’t awesome. They are; I just don’t want to spend my mental energy on creative but simple ways to keep them educated and entertained…especially when they’re all little kids). There are other people who are higher ranking and with more responsibility over the school who can do that. I don’t have to be there all the time…it’s taken me several months to convince myself of that.

Find Comfort in Simple Activities
Around the end of February I felt the urge to do some spring cleaning. I went through all my closets and drawers in the Fortress of Solitude (home), changed out my winter decorations to more colorful items, and cleaned out a bunch of papers in the Batcave (my work office). I feel like I have a bright, clean, fresh start in my two cozy sanctuaries (and soon a new tub and shower area).

Sometimes on an evening off or a Sunday afternoon I like to practice my taekwondo forms at home. It’s a different environment, I can listen to a podcast or music while I practice, and I don’t have to interact with everyone. It keeps my memory for poomsae sharp and gives me time to concentrate on what I want to work on, not re-teaching a color belt their form—ooh did I type that out loud? (if my students are reading this…PRACTICE ON YOUR OWN!!!)

Change Your Perspective
I don’t have to work. I get to work and be creative and write and help people learn and do things I truly enjoy (and make money, which I TRULY enjoy as well). It’s a new year and I have new and long-term clients that I get to help and coworkers I get to create with.

I don’t have to go to taekwondo. I don’t have to train or teach–I get to. I have the privilege of training under very skilled masters and a grandmaster and I have the joy of sharing what I love with other students. I’m adjusting to our new space and even learning to appreciate it. I have 7 or 8 bo dans testing for black belt next month, and I get to guide them every step of the way.

You get to wake up every day. You get to provide for yourself or for others. You get to experience life and make your own choices even when you don’t think you have any choices.

Sometimes all we need is a break to get back on track…and a glass or two of wine.

 

You Know More Than You Think You Do: What I Learned From Practicing “That Old Japanese Form” (The Poomsae Series Part 14)

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This is my last essay examining an individual form. Unless I can talk one of the senior black belts into teaching me Sipjin or Jitae I’ve gone as far as I can go with black belt forms…for now. I plan on teaching myself Taeguk color belt forms, so that will definitely give me some insight to write about at a later date. But for now this is the end of the direction I’ve been taking with The Poomsae Series.

Anyway…

I don’t even know how to spell the name of the most recent form I learned. I’m going to take a guess and call it “Nopei” (pronounced NO-pay), or as one of the grandmasters in our circle calls it, “that old Japanese form.” At my school this form is learned along with Sipjin at fourth Dan. It’s the last form performed before one attains the level of master…in our school anyway. It’s the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

Nopei is a holdover from the old days of taekwondo, or at least the “old days” of the resurgence after the Japanese occupation of Korea and the rise of Korean grandmasters in the United States. It’s a very rarely taught or practiced form in the American taekwondo world, like Koryo One (see article for explanation) and more recently (and regrettably in my opinion) the Palgwe forms.

I asked the master who trained me for my black belt to teach it to me as somewhat of a goodbye. He was leaving the school to take a full-time job, and poomsae (forms) was one of his greatest talents. He always made forms look precise, strong, and smooth, and he expected no less from his students. He’s been my mentor, leader, and friend for several years, and I’ve modeled all the things I do well after his teaching, especially the way I practice and perform forms. I won’t blame him for the stupid things I do—that’s all me.

Nopei begins simply, even more simply than the Palgwe OR Taeguk forms: one double knifehand high block to the left followed by a slight shift in weight and another to the right. Fists go the belt and the black belt takes three determined steps forward—not slides, not in any fighting stances, just straight up walking (hell, practically strolling although in a very determined manner) with precisely rolling feet.

This is where it gets interesting. In a flash the black belt leaps from the simple walking position into a graceful landing onto the left leg and holds for a breath, just long enough to make an impression. The best way I can describe this movement is that it ends up looking like the Keumgang crane stance with diamond block except with knife hands and the lifted leg more angled for roundhouse kick rather than side kick. It’s a beautiful image, and I know my words don’t do it justice. Along with simple inside-to-outside knife hand strikes, a few middle punches, and a break in dead center with a downward punch (ideally with an actual board or block), the jump is performed three more times.

Nopei ends simply and softly with three high blocks to the back and, facing forward again, those same two knifehand blocks but with the body at a slight 45 degree angle, a subtle wink to whoever is paying close attention.

There are a few more novel pieces to the form after the break, but my favorite part to watch (and to do) is the jump. It’s so different from anything I’ve done in a form or anything I’ve done in five years of taekwondo classes for that matter. It takes some adjusting in both body and mental focus.

Things have changed dramatically for me in my little taekwondo world. The master who taught me the form is gone, we’ve moved to a new location and are still adjusting to the space, and there’s now a lot more pressure on me to lead classes.  For the first time it’s begun to feel like work and an obligation rather than an energy-booster and a pleasure, and that has broken my heart. My feelings toward and relationship with taekwondo has changed.

What this form has taught me is that I know more than I think I do. I can learn a deceivingly simple form with new and unfamiliar movements. I can lead other students and black belts. I can adjust to changes that I don’t necessarily want but have to accept.

Many years ago when I first got into the organizational development industry I was fretting over a project I didn’t feel qualified or experienced for. My director at the time, who was always kind and sincere, looked at me pointedly, said, “Melanie, you know more than you think you do,” and strolled into his office. I’ve never forgotten that moment and I keep that memory as a motivator whenever I’m faced with a challenge. I know more than I think I do at work, in taekwondo, and in life. I just have to relax and trust my instincts.

“Let’s do Nopei together so I don’t cry.” I was chatting with my master before an evening class during the last week he taught at my dojang. I was starting to get teary and emotional about the fact that I wouldn’t get to learn from him anymore. He has inspired, guided, and pushed me further than I thought I could go in the last five years. He’s the best “boss” I’ve ever had as far as grooming and preparing me for my own leadership role, even on the days when I didn’t like him very much, ha ha. These days when I really don’t want to teach I pull from a store of confidence I’ve been able to build through my master’s guidance. I know more than I think I do. He saw that in me before I even realized it.

Moving and breathing in unison we walked through the form together. Then he had me go through it on my own so he could observe, ever the instructor. That was the last form we practiced together and a fitting passing of the torch from teacher to student.

I know more than I think I do, and I know I can do this on my own.

 

Why I Teach (Even Though I Want Everyone to Leave Me Alone)

holding hands

I really should title this post “Why I Consult/Inform/Coach/Question/Advise/Facilitate,” but it’s not as catchy. I find it extremely funny in a karmic way that an introvert like me who preferred to read and draw rather than interact with other kids grew up to make a living out of talking to people. In my personal life I’ve grown into the role of instructor at my taekwondo school, and I love it. How could this have happened? Lately I’ve begun to feel the pressure of my role as helper and guide and wondered if I needed to take a break.

January was a very stressful month at our dojang due to certain circumstances I won’t get into. I was beginning to feel burned out in my leadership role, and I was even in tears one night when I realized it was the first time in five years that I truly did not want to go to class. It felt like “work,” which it never had before, even on nights when I didn’t feel well and even during long tournament coaching days. I kept going back, though, and each time I felt reenergized by interacting with the other students and instructors. I can’t help offering advice before class or being willing to stop what I’m doing and answer questions from a student who asks for my assistance. I can’t walk away from it entirely even though some days I just don’t want to be there. Many bottles of wine have been present during the course of what has been the most stressful month of my taekwondo career.

Meanwhile at my day job…
No one in my personal life quite understands what I do professionally so here’s an example of what I’ve done a typical week as a learning and leadership development consultant for a large healthcare system: I’ve presented company culture and strategy at new employee orientation for 90 people, had a coaching meeting with a physician in a development program who was a little apprehensive about leading his team’s first project meeting, compared notes on what’s going on at my hospital with the director of HR, advised a former leadership coaching client that she needed to be up front with her boss about wanting to move into a higher role, presented a workshop on accountability to over 60 nursing leaders, and lead team building sessions for staff at two stand-alone medical clinics. Meanwhile in the dojang I recently ran a test to promote six students to bo dan, the rank just below black belt. And those many bottles of wine came in handy.

It’s been a busy month. I’m tired.

I took some time to reflect on why I’m so drawn to what I do at work and in the dojang and what I want for my future.

I’ve been providing information and facilitating learning my entire career from my first library internship at the UT Southwestern Medical Center to my current job. I didn’t choose learning as a career; I wanted to be an animator for Disney or an artist for MAD Magazine. Over time I just sort of…fell into it. I liked finding information and I liked helping people meet their needs, whether it was determining the next course of a patient’s care or determining the next step in someone’s career. As a hospital librarian I saw how my work could help clinical workers care for their patients. In my training and development role I’ve seen how my work helps people build better relationships, take bold steps in their careers, and improve their work processes. I’m thrilled when my coaching clients from years ago give me updates on their progress. In taekwondo I get more excited about other students testing for color belt or black belt than I do with my own black belt tests. It’s fun helping people prepare. It’s awesome seeing people succeed.

But damnit I’m worn out. I’m tired of talking to people and hearing myself talk. I’m so looking forward to next week because I have NOTHING on my schedule. A meeting or two, but no speaking engagements, no team building, no orientations, no professional development classes, no coaching, no belt tests. I’m going to hide in my office and not talk to ANYONE. I’m hoping during the taekwondo classes I’ll attend that others take on more of the teaching responsibility and I can just be a student for once. I wouldn’t say this is “compassion fatigue,” which can plague clinical care providers, but I think I need to use this little break in extraverting myself to the world wisely.

And then I’ll be right back to it, and I won’t be able to help myself. A little teaching here, a little coaching there. Sure, I’ll give that presentation. Yes, I can lead warm-ups in taekwondo class. Yes, I can help you with your form. I didn’t chose this. Helping people learn chose me. My success is seeing them succeed. I’m a servant leader and a caregiver, and this has become my calling. The pull is so strong I can’t see myself doing anything else. As tiring as this is sometimes, I hope I continue to feel so lucky that I get to do what I do at work and in the dojang.

Stand Your Ground: What I Learned From Practicing Pyongwon (The Poomsae Series Part 13)

stand sunset

I love poomsae (taekwondo forms), and I never miss an opportunity to practice and learn new forms. Pyongwon is typically learned at 4th Dan although at my dojang we learn it at 3rd Dan. Several months ago I talked my Master into teaching it to me shortly before I tested for 2nd Dan, just to give me a fun challenge to play with. We already do things differently by teaching Koryo AND Keumgang at 1st Dan and move on to Taebaek at 2nd Dan, so why stop there?

This form is short and linear, but also powerful and intimidating, both to watch and to learn. This form taught me to be strong and solid in my foundation, which I had to rely on recently in “real life.”

The concept of Pyongwon is twofold: (1) it represents a plain or vast field of land, which serves as a foundation and sustenance for life and (2) it’s based on the idea of peace and struggle….or, standing your ground. The physical movements of the form require core strength and mental concentration. Practicing the form itself feels like a mental struggle–which way to I go? Do I fight? Do I change directions? Do I stand firmly in place? Each movement is a calculated decision.

It’s an interesting form, but it’s not flashy like Koryo or Taebaek. This form is more reminiscent of the sturdy, complex yet primitive Keumgang, and even borrows that form’s signature mountain block. I get the same glint in my eye and twinge of quiet brutality in my stomach when I do Pyongwon as when I practice Keumgang. It challenges me to ground myself and focus on commanding the space. It taps into a darker part of my psyche.

Recently a colleague and I were placed in a very difficult position where we had to rely on our foundational values and internal strength. We faced the possibility of challenging an authority figure to defend what we believed was right. We faced with the very painful possibility of cutting ties with people we loved in order to defend and protect others we cared about. Feelings could be hurt on all sides, and relationships could be irreparably damaged.

The last few days have been stressful and emotionally draining in light of this challenge. I played scenarios over and over in my head–sometimes I was stoic. Other times I was volatile and biting. Other times I was calm and poignant. I reminded myself that whenever this situation might come to a head I would need to model the black belt tenets of integrity, courtesy, respect, perseverance, and compassion, even if I wanted to run or if I wanted to go against what had become my foundational values.

Thankfully the crisis was somewhat averted. Drama did not ensue (too much), and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders (two big glasses of wine also helped). Reflection on how events actually played out, however, strengthened my resolve to stand my ground, bravely face the internal struggle of the desire for peace and the instinct to fight, and protect the people I care about.  That is the true calling of a black belt.

The Poomsae Series Part 12: Taebaek, Or, Old is New Again

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I’m officially a second degree black belt now, and that means with a new rank I have a new form and a new addition to the Poomsae Series! Yay! Enjoy!*

“It’s like a recap,” my chief instructor said one day when we were discussing the second dan black belt form Taebaek. “Now you’re second degree,” he continued hypothetically, “So let’s make sure you remember all your old color belt forms.”

“More like a clip show like on TV,” I countered. “They’re too lazy to make new material, so they just put a bunch of random old stuff together.”

I was marveling at the fact that Taebaek, the form we at my dojang learn as a second degree black belt, seemed so much easier to learn and seemingly less complicated than the two first dan forms, Koryo and Keumgang (Some teach Keumgang at second degree, Taebaek at third, etc. We do things a little differently). I’d heard my instructor for a long time claim that Taebaek was a mash up of old Palgwe forms, but it never really resonated until I learned the form myself.

I actually learned this form last summer as a first degree black belt, and it all started as a joke wrapped in a dare. During class one night a second degree black belt, who always seemed to forget that he had to use the bathroom until about 10 seconds before break time was over, was absent from his spot in line.

“Go ahead, Melanie, fill in,” my instructor said, gesturing for me to take my place at the front of the class. “Now you’re second degree!”

“Cool! Does this mean I can learn Taebaek?” I giggled. To my surprise (and utter delight) he took me up on it about two weeks later and taught me and a fellow first dan the form. This was the first form I had ever been able to remember in its entirety the first day of learning it.

If this form is a clip show, it’s also a video game filled with fun “Easter eggs,” at least for certain taekwondo practitioners who still do the old school beautiful and complex Palgwe forms. It truly is a mishmash of a sweet new moves like breaking an arm, which is awesome, and many signature pieces of color belt Palgwe forms, which I know quite well. (I suppose it’s new to Taeguk practitioners. If you’re curious, look up videos of Palgwes Yuk Jang, Sah Jang, Pal Jang, and Oh Jang, and see if you can spot the shout outs.) Like Koryo, it follows the very familiar Palgwe sideways H pattern. Unlike Keumgang, it’s not a directional mindf*ck.

Taebaek starts out with a new move, a crossed knife hand block (I found it a bit drill team-y but went with it) followed by a familiar front snap kick and double punch. Okay, this is interesting. Then as you turn to the front–BAM!–the double knife hand high block/strike from Palgwe Yuk Jang. What!? YAASSSS, the form with flair! Okay, um, that was a pleasant surprise! Let’s keep going. There are a few more new pieces (and in slow motion too!) and then BAM!–the signature “crescent moon” double block of Palwge Sah Jang. Oooh, this is fun to revisit, and it comes with arm break, and a punch! Get it girl, let’s kick some ass in style!

Turning in a 90 degree angle and moving to the back is reminiscent of the block/spear hand combo in both Sah Jang and Pal Jang, and then oh snap, it’s that f*cking scissor block from Oh Jang! Aw, HELL no! I thought we were done with that awkward, needlessly complex blue belt form, but noooo, it just has to get in one more jab. Y’all, I can hardly contain myself. Maybe a nicer way to refer to this form than clip show is homage.

Although Taebaek pulls heavily from lower level forms, it has a freshness and sense of humor to it. It’s a reminder that you don’t have to turn away from your roots when you want to keep growing. What got you to first degree won’t necessarily get you to second or third degree, but you can still draw on your experiences. It’s an opportunity to add black belt understanding to color belt principles. You don’t have to do away with who you are. Continue to draw on your good qualities, and just, well, turn it up a notch.

[*I actually composed this article last summer, but I didn’t want to jinx myself and post it before I got second degree…and then I learned that it’s usually a third dan form at other schools, and I’ve learned that one too already, so the hell with it, I’m writing an article on the third/fourth dan form Pyongwon. Stay tuned…]