That sense of hope in my generation was severely challenged by the turmoil, the reaction, mean spirited nature of politics and a growing celebration of me-ism that seemed to characterize the 80s and 90s. And into all of this, I, like many of my group, attempted to live my life, love, have children and make a way.

Children are a source of hope and terror: We hope that they embody the future and will transcend our limitations; at the same time we are terrified that we may fail them, and that our weaknesses will determine who they ultimately become. I have come to know that while these ideas are understandable, each is wrong in its own way.

Children are more than a reflection of us as individuals—they are shaped (as was I) both by their parents and families and by the values reflected in the larger society. And yet in the stormy sea of contemporary life, the idea of values (as distinct from rigid morality) has sunk beneath the tumultuous waves of public scandal, duplicity, corruption and general malaise. It has then become ever more important to find a lighthouse—a source of light that helps guide the way.

Nearly a decade ago, I inadvertently stumbled upon my lighthouse when I brought my then four year old son to study martial arts with Master Henry Taejoon Lee. At the time my focus was on getting my son into a program that would train him physically and help him gain self-confidence and self-control. This is the standard promise of most martial arts programs.

Yet, it was obvious from the beginning that what Master Lee offered was much more. And over time as I have weathered a divorce, aging parents, and the ups and downs of raising a child in what Master Lee has so aptly described as “an unforgiving world,” it is clear to me that what he has created is a lighthouse where basic human values—strength of character, honesty, humility, caring, collective responsibility, and determination—are front and center. This does not mean that everyone always succeeds in upholding these values. That is not the point. After all, the lighthouse does not prevent storms. But the light illuminating the way is always there. And for this I am forever grateful.

Cheryl I. Harris
Mother of Thebe Kgositsile

It is more than coming to class each week clocking time on the mat. When I hit green belt, I came to every class just as I did in my beginner belts. However, I lost focus. Everything, including a spinning heel hook, was just too hard. I built obstacles where there none. After three months, I began to shift with impatience. Why was I not learning? Why was I not improving? Why was I not advancing? The hard truth was that I was letting other things dictate my training. I was in class, but thinking about the rough day I’d had at work, or the disagreement I’d had with someone, or the frustration I felt about my slowed progress. All of these cluttered my mind. I allowed them to crowd out my focus.

Instead of creating my destiny, I was succumbing to my life. When I finally got frustrated, though, that began to change. I began coming to class with a purpose – “I will improve on my heel hook today”; or, “I will effectively apply my Ho Shin Sul”. With each class, then, I had an attainable goal to mark whether I was training well. The results were almost instant. I tipped in my fourth month, and tested for purple belt in my fifth. The lesson I learned on the mats also carried over into my life.

Unhappy with my job, I focused on actively improving or changing my situation. At work, I aggressively pursued attainable goals to create and foster a more collegial atmosphere in my department and on campus. At the same time, I also pursued interviews with other schools. Rather than allowing the negative aspects of my workplace to determine my outlook, I determined my outlook and worked to create a new reality in my workplace. The dividends were amazing. At work, the situation improved nominally. The interviews at other places, however, proved to be life-changing. I scheduled an interview with a school that I had only peripheral knowledge of. However, their pursuit of me was aggressive, and they created an opportunity for me to come to campus to visit before I had heard back from some others.

Reynaldo Macías