Han Jik Kim
Han Jik Kim is a licensed Acupuncturist with over 25 years of experience in clinical practice and teaching. He specializes in acupuncture, herbal medicine, and oriental medicine classic texts such as Shang Han Lun, Jin Gui Yao Lue, and Wen Bing Xue. He is a dedicated teacher who has trained countless students to pass their accreditation and license examination. Han Jik Kim has authored and edited literature on oriental medicine and presented at numerous international conferences.
Healing and Medicine To Know Thyself
Interview by Daisy Yeon, Jonah Lee, and Christine Paek
Please tell us your name, age, and birthplace.
Hello, my name is Kim Han Jik – the last name is Kim. I was born on December 22, 1965, on the day of Dongji (동지 – winter solstice that celebrates the longest night and the shortest day in the year, usually on or around December 22 or 23 of the solar calendar) in Korea. So I was born on the longest night of the year, at a place called Haebangchon (해방촌 – located in the Yongsan District, it is one of the oldest neighborhoods in central Seoul) in Seoul. I was born in Seoul, but my parents and grandfather came from Hwanghae-do (황해도 – a province in western North Korea). Many people came from the North [Korea] during the liberation [from Japanese colonial rule in 1945] and yook-ee-oh (육이오/6.25 – the start date of the 1950-1953 Korean War, often used to indicate the Korean War in general). So [because of these historical events and family migration], I'm Kim Han Jik, born in Haebangchon, Seoul.
How do you define yourself?
I always tell my kids, “Be healthy, dream big.” Because my parents chose to immigrate, I guess [that is why] we could fully integrate into American society, starting with the first generation. I would be so thankful if my grandchildren's generation could [also] settle here. Like Moses from the Bible, I could not ask for anything else as long as I can be the fertilizer that helps my children and descendants thrive.
You mentioned that you were born in Haebangchon, Seoul. Did you also grow up there?
No. There are neighborhoods like Cheongpa-dong (청파동 – in Yongsan District, Seoul) and Huam-dong (후암동 – in Yongsan District, Seoul) around Haebangchon. If my memory serves me right, I was there until kindergarten, and I changed elementary schools about four times. I lived in Hannam-dong (한남동 – in Yongsan District, Seoul), then moved to either Oksu-dong (옥수동 – in Seongdong District, Seoul) or Yaksu-dong (약수동 – in Jung District, Seoul), then to Yeomchang-dong (염창동 – in Gangseo District, Seoul), which is across from what is now Deungchon-dong (등촌동), and that was around the second or third grade. I lived there for a long time until just before we came to the United States. Then, while preparing to immigrate to the United States, I briefly lived in a place like Yeonhui-dong (연희동 – in Seodaemun District, Seoul) for about a year or two, and I finally came to America from there.
What was your childhood like?
Well, I transferred too many times in elementary school, about four times. Elementary school was OK, then I went to a middle school called Gyeongseong Middle School, and for high school, I went to Youngil High School, which is also located in the area where Deungchon-dong, Hwagok-dong (화곡동 – in Gangseo District, Seoul), and Mok-dong (목동 – in Yangcheon District, Seoul) are. I got along well… I was not the type to put myself out there; I was just a quiet student… but in a way, to myself, I lived thinking I was pretty special.
What were your dreams or aspirations back then?
I wanted to be a philosopher in middle school and a novelist in high school. Those were my dreams. And I even considered majoring in theology in college, which you'll hear [more about] later.
What was your major in college?
I studied moderately in high school and entered the School of Business Administration at Chung-Ang University. Still, looking back now, if I had gone to a place like Yonsei University's theology school back then, my life might have turned out completely different. I entered university in 1984. During that time, if I were to make an excuse [for myself]… Koreans worked hard, regardless, after Park Chung-hee took power and until the end of the military government in 1987, but [even so] longed for more freedom and democracy. Depending on how one sees it, you may say that [such longing reflects] it is the democratic left of today.
Anyway, that was the [social] atmosphere [at the time], so rather than studying in college… I was [more] interested in the idea that a democratic society was better than a military regime. I didn’t actively participate [in related efforts], but how should I say? I felt lost while in college. It was during that time that my family got the opportunity to immigrate, so I came [to the U.S.] in 1988. So, to be clear, I entered the business administration program at Chung-Ang University in '84 but went to the U.S. without graduating.
Did you come with your family?
Yes, we immigrated as a family in 1988.
Can you tell us about your family? How many people were in your family then, and what did your parents do for a living?
My father worked at the Korean Central Intelligence Agency, then at places like KBS (Korean Broadcasting System) and the Korea Economic Daily. My mother was a full-time housewife, and with my younger brother, who is four years younger than me, there were four of us. Due to military service issues in Korea, the three family members immigrated to the U.S., first in '86, and I followed two years later in '88.
After you arrived in the U.S., could you talk briefly about your career path?
When I immigrated to the United States in 1988, I had planned to enroll in an American university through a community college. However… [at that time] I wanted to return to Korea, so I wandered for about two years. Around that time, my uncle had graduated from South Baylo University’s School of East Asian Medicine. When he saw me, his nephew, lost without a sense of purpose, he suggested that, if I felt like I was struggling to adapt in the U.S., I study at this good school where you can learn East Asian Medicine in Korean. So, in the fall of 1991, I enrolled at South Baylo University’s School of East Asian Medicine.
Did you immigrate to L.A.'s Koreatown?
I first lived in El Monte and then moved to Buena Park. After I got married, I lived in L.A., Downey, Anaheim, L.A. again, and then Irvine.
Do you currently live in Koreatown?
I currently have a home in Irvine. My mother passed away in March this year, so my father is living alone. Because of that, I stay with my father on the weekends in L.A.
Koreatown?
Yes.
Do you also work here in Koreatown?
That's right.
What do you think of Koreatown?
Well, back then, the South Baylo School of East Asian Medicine had a building on Olympic [Boulevard] and Union [Avenue]. I've been going back and forth between Buena Park and here since 1991, so I know every nook and cranny.
Do you have a favorite place or memory in Koreatown?
Many of my favorite places are gone now, like Woo Lae Oak on Western [Avenue]. And – you can cut this out of the interview later – many places like Jumak 74, that used to be on Vermont [Avenue], that I remember fondly, are gone. But the places that are still around are all good, too.
We’ll move on to questions about traditional healing. How would you describe your healing practice or activities?
Well, my name is Han Jik. The "Han" part is from Hangang (한강 – Han River), because you could see it from Haebangchon [where I was born]. The character "Jik" is a generational name in my family. Koreans may have heard stories about New Year's Eve traditions of gathering in places like Jongno (종로 – the historic center of Seoul) and Jongmyo [and] Sajik (종묘와 사직 – Jongmyo Shrine of the Joseon Dynasty and Sajik Altar, all in Jongno District of Seoul). Even though we're not a dynasty anymore, we still start from the place where the ancestors of the nation are honored. The character "Jik" means founding a new nation or starting a new household.
The "Han" in hanuihak (한의학 – Traditional Korean Medicine) is the "Han" from Daehan Minguk (대한민국 – Great Han Republic; it can mean the Republic of Korea or the Korean race as a whole), but because it's closely related to China, it also uses the “Han” from China's Han Dynasty, which existed from about 2000 BC. I don’t know whether my grandfather knew it or not, but [I feel destined that] my career is a hanuisa (한의사 – Korean medicine doctor). So, I'm someone who obviously believes that traditional Korean Medicine is the best.
How is traditional Korean medicine different from traditional Chinese medicine?
People might say I'm saying this because I'm Korean, but traditional Korean medicine has more philosophical and humanistic concepts woven into it than traditional Chinese medicine. While traditional Chinese medicine is very, how should I say, practical, traditional Korean medicine looks more deeply into self-healing ability. Of course, as a doctor, I need the skills to treat someone's pain and illness, but from my perspective as a Korean medicine doctor, I would like to serve as a guide. It may be a bit long-winded, but I believe there was a first-ever doctor of East Asian Medicine even in the West a long time ago.
Who was the first doctor of East Asian Medicine in the West? It was Socrates who [famously] said, "Know thyself." Some of you may already realize this, but in my opinion, most people go to heaven without ever really knowing themselves. If we can understand and balance our strengths, weaknesses, natural physical advantages, and shortcomings, we can free ourselves from many diseases. What I find most unfortunate is that when people are in severe pain, they just… give up. In other words, when we're sick, we often become prisoners of our illness. We are just being dragged by it. You do what you are told to do. So I think the major strength of traditional Korean medicine is guiding to ‘know thyself.’
When you first studied traditional Korean medicine and treated your first patient, could you tell us what that experience was like?
Let me put it this way. Rather than [being] a practical person, I think a lot, so… you can say that I am a theorist – I spent much time studying instead of doing hands-on work. I studied hard in school, and as I continued to teach students, I developed a special interest in traditional Korean medicine. Whether it's ear discharge, a persistent cough that won't go away, or chronic back pain that's lasted over 50 years, I greatly value the moments when such patients get better with the herbal medicine I’ve provided.
Where do you think the motivation for your healing practice comes from?
Honestly, I planned to stay in school until I died. However, I left my teaching position in 2018 due to various circumstances. So, from 1995 to 2018, for about 23 or 24 years, I had been [teaching] in school until it ran its course. After that, I prepared for about a year to open my clinic and treat patients, but COVID-19 happened. After the COVID-19 outbreak, I worked briefly at a clinic run by my [former] students. After going through a lot this year [2024], I officially began treating patients in L.A. this August.
Because I've been studying for almost 30 years, there are so many things I want to try when I treat patients – and they work well too. For example, when a patient comes in – this seems obvious – I analyze, ponder, and deliberate on the [the condition and situation of the] patient more than once [in more than one way] until I come up with good solutions, and put them into practice that way.
How do you use traditional Korean medicine in your daily life?
Here is an example. I always tell people, "Make sure you eat two hard-boiled eggs in the morning." Then, you won't feel hungry until at least one o'clock. And because eggs in their entirety both provide and help neutralize cholesterol, you should eat both egg whites and yolks together. This is how we explain traditional Korean medicine. Traditional Korean medicine teaches that everything is made up of yin and yang, or in easier terms, the sun and the moon. And this [yin and yang] is further divided into o-haeng (오행 – five elements) – for instance: green, red, white, yellow, and black. [According to traditional Korean medicine] Everything in this world is composed of such elements.
Let’s take the egg as an example. It is both white and yellow, right? In traditional Korean medicine, it is said that yellow and white go very well together. In technical terms, that is called to-saeng-geum (토생금 – earth generating metal). So, what happens then? It means that it provides nutrients and strengthens your immune system. That's why we consider the color of the eggs as so. The same goes for jujubes. They're red on the outside and yellowish on the inside. This is also what we call hwa-saeng-to (화생토 – fire generating earth), another great color combination that warms the stomach.
One of the best examples of applying [the wisdom of] traditional Korean medicine in everyday life is samgyetang (삼계탕 – ginseng chicken soup). So why is samgyetang good for you? If you answer that it is [good] because it is a traditional Korean dish with jujubes, astragalus, and ginseng to help beat the summer heat, I'll only give an A. You must respond that it is a healthy, good combination based on o-haeng to get an A+.
These days, my patients will sometimes look at me [as if they are] thinking why I keep on talking instead of giving them acupuncture. I keep saying what I want to because I still think of my patients as students [as if I’m still teaching]. Sometimes, I nag them and ask them what they eat, especially those whose symptoms haven't improved for a long time. If someone gets caught by answering with chicken breast, I get annoyed. In traditional Korean medicine, eating only certain parts of a food is considered the worst. So, what's samgyetang's greatest strength? It’s the best because it uses whole chicken parts, except the head. So, if I find out that someone only eats chicken legs or chicken breasts, and especially if they mention taking protein powder, I scold them.
You can cut this part of the interview if you wish. For example, nowadays, [people will say how] pretty, handsome, and perfect bodies [there are] on Instagram or among celebrities. However, you hear quite often on the news of such Instagram stars’ sudden deaths. Do you know why this happens? It's because they don't eat real food and rely on things like powder. The thing about food is, even if you eat a wild ginseng that is 100 years old or worth millions, once it enters your mouth, passes through your esophagus, stomach, and small intestine, and goes to your liver, it basically takes days or even years for your body to process it. But what about something in powder form? It's absorbed immediately. So, it signals the body to think, "I don't have to work,” and, therefore, they forget their function. That's why [when it comes to food and bodily function] it is a whole. I know this was a long response, but anyway, to reiterate why samgyetang is the best, it is because it is cooked with the whole chicken.
Have you studied or practiced acupuncture in Korea?
I did not. I started after I came to the U.S. in 1991. But I can put it this way. I didn't study traditional Korean medicine in Korea, nor did I have much interest in it back then. But you know what, guys? It may be different today, but ask anyone who has immigrated until the early 1990s – when Koreans packed their bags and belongings, even if they weren't studying Korean medicine or weren't acupuncturists, many immigrating families probably had a mother or a father who brought an okpyeon (옥편 – Chinese character dictionary) and a Donguibogam (동의보감 – a traditional Korean medical encyclopedia, written by Heo Jun and first published in 1613) with them.
Why do you think they brought these? Even though they were coming to America, many families brought them because they felt they might need them just in case. They may not have them anymore, but when you look at these books from your parents, you may wonder, 'Why do we have these [at home]?' Although I didn't study traditional Korean medicine in Korea, all Koreans – even if you don't realize it – may have a 5th or 6th-generation ancestor who was a famous hanuisa. So, I’d like to think that being a half-hanuisa runs in the blood of Koreans.
Were there times when it was difficult, or did you feel Americans misunderstood acupuncture or traditional Korean medicine?
I didn't find that to be the case. After all, over 80% of my current patients are foreigners and locals, and the response is very positive when I explain things well, approach and provide treatment accordingly. [If difficulty or a misunderstanding occurs] It's usually due to a lack of understanding of a different culture, but if you explain it well, it makes sense [to them]. In fact, there are many hanuisas in all 50 states in America. Surprisingly, the biggest market is in the mainstream society. There are very skilled Korean or Chinese traditional medicine doctors, but there are also many highly successful Caucasian traditional medicine doctors who have no cultural background.
Could you tell us how Hajo Holistic Clinic was founded?
In 2018, my relationship with the school ended. Then, after taking about a year off, I prepared to open my clinic, but the COVID-19 pandemic happened. I worked for a bit at my [former] student’s clinic, but had many things going on, including a death in the family this year, until I could open my clinic in August.
I really want to talk about the name "Hajo." When you come to our clinic, there's a bird like a dinosaur. This bird is from a mural of the Goguryeo (고구려 – one of the kingdoms during the Three Kingdoms period from the 1st century BCE to 7th century CE) dynasty, one of the ancient Korean dynasties. I believe that people and all living things, nature, and even the Earth must have a narrative. [To have] a narrative is a legend.
For instance, when I left school in early 2018, the Pyeongchang (평창 – a county in the province of Gangwon-do) Winter Olympics in Korea also happened during that time. What was talked about and became a big hit at the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics’ opening ceremony was that dinosaur-like character I used for the name of my clinic, which is called an Inmyeonjo (인면조— a bird with a human face from Korean myths). It's not the same as my picture but similar, with the same historical background.
If you look closely at the dinosaur in the picture, it's carrying herbal medicine on its back. Back then, herbal medicine was sometimes wrapped in white packets and tied with rope. That's what's on its back. So, what I'm saying is that Hajo is a legendary bird that delivers medicine to sick people. From then on, I thought, "Oh, my clinic has to be called Hajo." The "ha" is a [Chinese character meaning a congratulatory] greeting, and the "jo" refers to [the Chinese character meaning] a bird. I wanted to name it after this legendary bird, so when I decided to open the clinic this year, I asked my kids to Google it, and no one else had used that name yet. So that's what I chose.
But once I started [traditional Korean medicine] as a business… Before that, I was just a salaryman, but now that I'm running my business, I'm unsure about the finances. Like, I don't really know how much to charge to maintain business operations. Regardless, I just want to do my best for my patients. That's all I can say.
Who are your patients? Do you have regulars?
About 80% of my customers are locals, with about 20-30% being my regular patients. So far, I have fewer than 10 Google reviews, but the response is outstanding, and more people are becoming returning visitors.
How do you balance traditional healing with modern approaches?
My principle is to refer patients I can't handle to urgent clinics or specialists.
What would happen if traditional healing methods were more widely known and respected, and what can be done to have them more respected?
In my opinion, unlike I did, there aren’t people in the U.S. who study traditional medicine in Korean or Chinese anymore. It would probably need to be standardized in English. At the very least, like chiropractic schools, traditional Korean medicine should become more professionalized by starting with a minimum of 4,000 to 5,000 hours of training to enter the mainstream.
Could you share your efforts to make traditional healing methods accessible to more people?
Personally, it was a great honor for me to participate in the recent KYCC Multicultural Fair. And you can later [cut this out]… Frankly, while I was in school, I would make my students do many things, like have them give acupuncture to people. I have always led by example throughout my life, but that day [at the KYCC Fair], so many people wanted to receive acupuncture that I couldn't get up on Sunday morning. I was standing up and sitting down repeatedly the day before, so I couldn't get up, even though I'm not that old. Even so, it was such a valuable experience, and I think that if we want to promote traditional Korean medicine, we must do community service. We should not just sit around and think about making money, but really get out there to spread the word about it. So, in that regard, it was truly an invaluable experience for me, so I want to give my belated thanks. I will be the first to attend [if an opportunity comes again].
How do you see traditional healing methods changing and evolving in the future?
This is how I view traditional Korean medicine. I think of it as the last man standing. What I mean is… How should I say, throughout my life, I've realized that one of my biggest regrets is how I've handled my relationships. Issues are not resolved by cutting, ignoring, or deleting the things connected to me. For example, when it comes to relationships, it's the same with people's illnesses. No matter how advanced AI, medicine, or science becomes, I firmly believe that people are not scientific [beings]. Humans aren't purely rational beings, either. Remember what I said earlier – many don’t know about themselves. So, for instance, even if science can offer proof about my body, that is only for that moment.
So, the important thing is not to get hung up on machines or numbers, but to maintain awareness and agency that "I am the owner of my own body.” Keeping that in mind while treating illnesses is necessary for traditional medicine, and for that reason, it must remain until the end. I believe that such a part [perspective] is also needed.
When you need healing, who do you turn to?
I would look to Father God. And since I'm a hanŭisa after all, I must take care of my health.
What is the most important lesson you've learned in life?
I think relationships with family and neighbors, as well as relationships related to your career, are the most important. It is when those relationships fall apart that one gets hurt the most, and it’s the hardest to recover from, especially in this age of social media. So, in any case, we need wisdom to protect ourselves without damaging our relationships with others. But I'm still figuring that out myself. It wasn’t easy for me.
How do you want to be remembered by others?
Aside from family… Honestly, if there was a time in my life when I was happiest, it was during the 23-24 years that I was teaching in school, which I'm still personally doing to this day. So it is when those I’ve taught for the past 30 years or so turn out well. When their business is so good, they show me how successful they are and how much money they've made, which makes me very happy. [chuckles]
This is a rough transcript.