Taekwondo. Doug Cook
body mechanics. When practicing in Korea, my students and I are often required to throw a kick hundreds of times or hold a stance for many minutes while the headmaster tests the angle of our hands, arms, legs, and feet. Intense training of this nature frequently goes on for hours and allows us to mindfully monitor all aspects of body alignment, forcing forgetful muscles to remember details that will resurface time and time again in the future. For the black belt, reviewing basic technique alongside the novice is never a chore but an exercise in renewal. With each middle strike, low block, or front kick, the body learns to organize energy equally in both the right and left sides, increase focus, project strength, and maintain balance.
Securing a practical understanding of the Korean language, coupled with an appreciation for the culture that spawned taekwondo, adds color and vitality to concerted practice. As a case in point, words are symbols that conjure up images in our mind causing physiological responses that result in specific actions. Subsequently, using two disparate terms for the same subject may produce contrasting mental images. For example, the Korean command, “dwiro dora,” stoutly said, summons up an entirely different image in our consciousness than would simply shouting “about face.” The former pronouncement is ripe with the phonetics and spirit unique to the Korean language and may produce a motion more precise than that elicited by its English counterpart. Classical ballet, a discipline remarkably similar in body mechanics to traditional taekwondo, unfailingly subscribes to this practice in its use of French terminology. Think of it; a wizened dance master directing her students to “spin around,” rather than “pirouette,” would in all likelihood be ushered off the floor of the dance studio in disgrace!
Photo by John Jordan III
Kicking drills at the Korean National University for Physical Education in Seoul, South Korea.
Although decidedly academic rather than physical in nature, developing an objective viewpoint of Korean history creates a chronological and geographical connection with the people and places that profoundly influenced traditional taekwondo during its formative years. Without this perspective it is difficult for the practitioner to fully comprehend the passions that drove the Korean people to create such an art in the first place. It should be realized that the drama and dignity that accentuated the evolution of taekwondo represented, in some ways, a microcosm of Korean culture in general during the chaotic 1940s and 50s. It is difficult for us today to fully comprehend the death and destruction that accompanied the civil strife resulting from the Japanese Occupation, World War II, and the Korean Conflict. Seoul, the capital city, was decimated under a merciless rain of bombs originating from friend and foe alike with its citizenry scurrying to every corner of Asia for safe haven.5 Its infrastructure resembled the picked over carcass of some long-deceased animal; its bridges were twisted heaps of metal, its buildings skeletal shadows of their former selves. Orphans scavenged through mountains of trash for any morsel of nutrition to be found.6 Hope in life hung by a gossamer thread. Yet the tenacity and vision of the Korean people—in spite of han, the chronic sorrow ingrained within the national psyche multiplied by centuries of adversity—prevailed in their desire to resurrect a golden past wrapped in honor. Through great effort, the strategically-significant peninsula was revitalized into a thriving industrial power, although one that today remains divided by a fundamental ideology. Likewise, Korean martial artists were splintered in their own way by dissimilar styles, an infiltration of foreign influences, and a strong nationalistic desire to shake off the yoke of Japanese rule. Passions ran high with master instructors and heads of institutes attempting to distance themselves from a reliance on Chinese and Japanese martial disciplines in an effort to shore up their own native styles.7 Yet perhaps unknowingly at the time, the Korean martial art was poised for a catharsis in its rally for world recognition. Profound decisions would be made by prominent players in government and the military, with paths being plotted that would eventually lead the ravaged nation through its martial arts heritage to Olympic gold. This turbulent historical record cannot be ignored if the taekwondo student wishes to absorb the art in its entirety.8 Knowledge of these significant events is as important as the proper basic execution of a side kick, knife hand block, or middle strike.
Poomsae, or forms, the second key component of the taekwondo syllabus, represent a common denominator within all classical martial arts. Also known as hyung (category) or tul (pattern), formal exercises symbolize the lifeblood of traditional taekwondo. Poomsae can be defined as choreographed techniques, rich with martial intent, aimed at defeating multiple attackers coming from different directions. They provide the art with character and define its objectives. Forms practice challenges those who persevere through the belt ranks and supplies a vehicle for venerable masters to transmit timeless and often hidden skills to loyal students. It should be pointed out that, in years past, the bulk of martial arts training was handed down through the practice of the formal exercises. Sport-sparring was rare or virtually nonexistent; if the martial artist fought at all, it was for self-preservation.
Since forms are performed in solo fashion, poomsae can be practiced anywhere, anytime. Across the centuries, Asian martial artists have taken advantage of nature, practicing poomsae in densely wooded forests or high in the mountains. Furthermore, forms can be viewed as a catalog of techniques that have been developed over time to take advantage of an ethnic body style frequently dictated by the geography and the mindset of a nation. It is said that the topography of a region determines the martial style favored by its local citizenry. As a historical generality, tribes at home on the plains tended to develop equestrian skills, leaving the upper body free to cultivate empty-hand striking techniques coupled with expertise in archery and swordsmanship. On the other hand, warriors trained in predominantly mountainous areas tended to favor defensive skills requiring strong leg muscles, resulting in powerful kicking techniques. Justifiably, the formal defensive patterns exclusive to a particular culture would reflect these idiosyncrasies.
Photo by Patricia Cook
Poomsae represent the method by which martial arts skills were handed down from master to disciple over the centuries.
It is extremely important to note that poomsae practice not only embodies, along with sparring, the primary physical element of traditional taekwondo, but a highly spiritual component as well. To appreciate the essence of this concept, we must journey back to ancient times.
It is said that almost five thousand years ago the Taoist sage Fu Hsi (2953-2838 B.C.) composed the I Ching, considered by many, in conjunction with the Tao Te Ching or The Classic Way of Virtue, to be the basis of Taoist philosophy.9 This canon, later amended by Confucius (551-479 B.C.), acted as an oracle for those seeking advice in business, politics, military affairs, and daily life in general. The formula for use of this system supporting the inevitability of change is largely based upon the duality of opposites or the Yin/Yang (Korean: Um/Yang). A popular illustration depicts the Yin/Yang surrounded by eight trigrams composed of solid and broken lines. This symbol is universally known in Korea as the Palgwe. Subsequently, these eight aspects combine to create sixty-four hexagrams providing the final tools, along with the casting of yarrow stalks or three Chinese coins, necessary to manipulate the I Ching.
Not surprisingly, given the influence of Taoism on traditional taekwondo, a direct correlation exists between the eight original trigrams symbolizing heaven, lake, fire, thunder, wind, water, mountain, and earth, and the philosophical concepts that underscore the eight Taegeuk and Palgwe poomsae currently sanctioned by the WTF. Since the Taegeuk and Palgwe series appear in sets, the individual poomsae can be thought of as chapters of a book, each signifying a unique philosophy. For example, Taegeuk Yook Jang, whose I Ching component is a broken line over a solid line with another broken line beneath, symbolizes water and focuses on our ability to overcome life’s adversities by exhibiting the patience, consistency, and flow of a great river. Likewise, poomsae Taegeuk Chil Jang is signified by two broken lines below a single, solid