What is Hapkido?

To me, Hapkido is not a sport. It is not a collection of techniques you memorize in order to show them off. It is not a medal hanging on the wall.

Hapkido is a way of standing in the world.

When someone asks me what Hapkido is, they usually expect me to talk about kicks, joint locks and throws. And yes, all of that exists, and we train it with rigor. But technique is the door, not the house. What this art truly teaches cannot be seen in the body: it shows in the inner posture with which you face whatever life puts in front of you.

The name itself explains it. Hap is union, coordination. Ki is energy, life force. Do is the way. Hapkido is not “the art of fighting”; it is the way of coordinated power. And the word that holds everything else together is coordinated. It is not about being stronger than the other person. It is about harmonizing force, yours and your opponent’s, until conflict becomes movement.

That is the heart of how I see Hapkido.

The beginner believes force must oppose force. He pushes against whoever pushes him. He resists, he tenses, and he tires. The Hapkido practitioner learns something deeper and harder: not to block force, but to redirect it. To receive the attack, go with it, turn it, and return it. Water does not argue with the rock; it flows around it, and in time it wins.

That single idea changed my life, on and off the mat.

Because life pushes too. Crisis arrives, loss, the change you did not ask for, the person who confronts you. The instinctive reaction is to oppose it with everything. Hapkido taught me to do something different: to keep my center, read the direction of the force, and respond with judgment instead of reacting out of fear.

I call that posture. Before the technique, posture. Before the answer, posture. Posture is not how you stand; it is the place from which you decide.

That is why Hapkido is trained in circles, not in straight lines. The circle is continuity: breath that is never interrupted, movement that never breaks, energy that flows in and out without fighting itself. It took me years to understand that a mature life is also circular. You do not move forward by shoving. You move forward by flowing, without losing your direction.

But make no mistake: to flow is not to be soft. Hapkido is demanding. It confronts you with your fatigue, your ego and your limits. It makes you come back tomorrow when you failed today. It teaches you that discipline is not punishment, but the most honest form of the respect you owe yourself.

As a traditional martial art, Hapkido is complete. Joint locks and twists, throws and takedowns, kicks and strikes, joint control, attacks to vital points, and the handling of traditional weapons. It is real self-defense, the kind that serves you the day you truly need it. But that effectiveness is never the goal: it is the consequence of training well, with humility and with method.

In our school, technique never travels alone. It travels with three values that, to me, are the backbone of the art: honor, respect and focus. Honor, to be the same person inside and outside the dojang. Respect for your teacher, your training partners, your opponent and the knowledge you receive. Focus, to hold your attention when everything around you invites you to scatter.

An art that teaches you to strike but not to restrain yourself is merely violence with technique. Hapkido teaches the opposite. True mastery is measured not by everything you are capable of doing, but by everything you could do and choose not to.

I also learned that here you do not train alone. I belong to a lineage, and that both sustains and obligates me. I come in a direct line from Founder Lee, Seung-Woo, founder of Cheong Kyum and of the Hapkido Cheong Kyum World Federation; from Grand Master Choi, Suk-Hwan, my teacher’s teacher; and from my direct teacher, Grand Master William Rayo. Carrying that lineage is not an ornament on a résumé. It is a responsibility: what I received, I must pass on intact and, if I am faithful, a little more alive.

In 2021 I earned my black belt. In 2022 I graduated as Sabeomnim, Master Instructor. And there I confirmed the lesson I repeat in every class: the black belt is not the end of the road. It is the beginning. It means the fundamentals are finally so integrated that only now are you ready to truly start learning.

Perhaps that is the most valuable idea Hapkido has given me. There is no “I have arrived.” There is the next step, taken with the same humility as on the first day. The very name of our lineage reminds us of it: Cheong Kyum, clear spirit and humble mind.

That is why I teach Hapkido in Costa Rica. Not to manufacture fighters, but to walk alongside people —children, teenagers and adults— as they discover that they are stronger, calmer and more aware than they believed. Every class is a chance to build character through the body. That is what our motto means: traditional technique for a new generation.

If you have never set foot in a dojang, I invite you to do it with an open mind. You do not need to be strong, or flexible, or young. You only need to be willing to begin. The art will teach you the rest, fall after fall, breath after breath.

Because in the end, Hapkido is not about defeating someone else. It is about not losing yourself when force arrives. And that, I assure you, is the most important fight of all.

Master Joe PhillipsSabeomnim · Cheong Kyum Kwan · CKWF