By Dan Segarra, 9th Dan

When Kwan Jang Nim H.C. Hwang assumed the role of Kwan Jang after the passing of his father, Grandmaster Hwang Kee, many of us had to adjust—not just administratively, but emotionally. For decades, we had known him as Sabomnim: teacher, role model, practitioner, Moo Do In.

One evening, while speaking with him, I slipped and addressed him by his former title. I immediately apologized. He smiled and said:

“I have to get used to it too. Being a Kwan Jang is my responsibility. But being a Sabomnim is who I am.”

I nodded, struck by the profundity of what he had just said. I could not imagine the weight he now carried. In that moment, I was reminded of a Korean concept that sits quietly—but powerfully—at the heart of Tang Soo Do: 소명 (Somyeong).

A Life-Binding Calling

Somyeong is often translated as calling or vocation, but its meaning runs far deeper. The word is written with two characters:

召 (So) – to summon, to formally call
命 (Myeong) – command, mandate, one’s life

Together, 소명 (召命) means a life-binding summons—a calling one is obligated to answer, not simply choose.

Somyeong is recognized, not engineered.
It is answered, not optimized.
It is something you live up to, not something you pursue for pleasure.

This idea stands in sharp contrast to modern culture, which often frames life as a series of choices made for comfort, happiness, or convenience. Korean philosophy instead asks: What responsibility has been placed in your hands?

When Responsibility Redirects the Dream

I witnessed this truth firsthand years earlier while working as a professional artist. I had completed several projects for Grandmaster Hwang Kee and later for Master H.C. Hwang. On one occasion, he asked me to paint an eight-foot sign of him performing his trademark Peet Cha Gi—an image recognized from magazine covers—intended for the side of his newly acquired headquarters.

Because the building also housed a gym, he asked me to paint a second sign: a female figure in an exercise pose, representing balance—almost an Um and Yang pairing. In the end, only the Peet Cha Gi sign was ever hung. It stood proudly for many years, while the other was quietly set aside.

While I was painting the kicking figure, he surprised me by asking if he could help with the other sign. I was caught off guard—and deeply honored. He returned from his office holding a calligraphy brush, visibly excited to paint alongside me.

As we worked, he shared something that stayed with me.

His original dream, he said, was to become an artist or an architect. But his responsibilities within the Moo Duk Kwan had other plans for him.

There was no regret in his voice—only acceptance and clarity. It made me a little sad, but then I realized his changed path had not erased his creativity; it had redirected it. This, too, was somyeong.

The Child Who Chooses a Path

I later encountered the same philosophy expressed in a very different way while attending the first birthday celebration of Master H.C. Hwang’s daughter. In Korean culture, a child’s first birthday—called 돌잔치 (Dol-janchi)—is a major milestone, historically marking survival, health, and blessing.

During the celebration, a ceremony known as 돌잡이 (Dol-jabi) takes place.

돌잡이 (돌잡이) literally means “first-birthday choosing.” Objects are placed before the child, and whichever item the child reaches for is believed to symbolize their future path.

A book may suggest scholarship.
Money may suggest prosperity.
A brush may suggest artistry.
A thread may suggest long life.

Watching this ritual is fascinating—almost poetic. A child, innocent and unaware, symbolically “chooses” a destiny.

Yet life rarely unfolds so simply.

Choice Versus Calling

Dol-jabi represents potential.
Somyeong represents responsibility.

A child may reach for a book, but life may later demand leadership. One may dream of art, yet be called to preserve a tradition. A practitioner may begin Tang Soo Do for self-defense, only to one day realize they are responsible for teaching others.

This is where Korean philosophy becomes especially honest.

Your path may begin one way—but somyeong may redirect it.

Calling does not erase choice; it matures it. It asks whether you are willing to accept responsibility when life places it before you.

Duty, Righteousness, and the Way

Somyeong is supported by core moral principles deeply rooted in Korean thought:

의무 (Uimu) – Duty
The responsibility to act correctly regardless of convenience.
의 (Ui) – Righteousness
Choosing what is right over what is easy, popular, or profitable.
도 (Do) – The Way
The lifelong path through which duty and righteousness are practiced.

Tang Soo Do exists within this framework. It is not a system designed for self-expression, but a discipline shaped by responsibility, preservation, and moral clarity.

Modern Life, Ancient Responsibility

In modern life, we are encouraged to constantly optimize—our careers, our happiness, our time. Somyeong asks something different: What have you been entrusted with?

For Tang Soo Do practitioners, this question becomes practical:

Will you uphold standards when shortcuts are tempting?
Will you pass on knowledge rather than letting it fade?

Somyeong is proven through endurance, not intention.

Walking the Way as a Warrior-Scholar

The Warrior-Scholar path reflects the balance between strength and wisdom, discipline and compassion. It is not enough to train the body alone. One must cultivate responsibility, humility, and service.

Titles may change. Roles may expand. Dreams may be redirected.

But calling remains.

Tang Soo Do, at its core, is not something you merely practice.
It is something you answer—again and again, over a lifetime.

For more writings on Tang Soo Do philosophy, history, and lifelong martial practice, visit
https://warriorscholaruniversity.com/