Chamanismo coreano

Textos en Koreana WINTER 1992 VOL.6 NO.2

www.koreana.or.kr

1-The Role of Shamanism in Korean History

Yoon Yee-Heum Professor, Department of Religious Studies Seoul National
University

Shamanism, complex by nature and found in many diverse forms around the world,
is difficult to define. Indeed, it is this complexity and variety that has caused so much
confusion and conflict among students of shamanism both in Korea and abroad.
What is shamanism? The answer depends on one's point of view. Some define
shamanism in terms of folklore while others emphasize cultural norms, the
indigenous social structure, spiritual ethos or the magic-religious context of a given
culture. Clearly, the complexity of the topic makes a definitive definition and unified
understanding difficult as does the diversity of shamanistic practices in cultures
around the world. It is no wonder that confusion and controversy are common in the
study of shamanism.
Korean shamanism is no exception. Over the years, the topic has been the subject
of many studies varying in intent and content For example, scholars have
successfully reconstructed previously unknown areas in the history of Korean
literature through the examination of shamanistic rites, and historians have achieved
a better understanding of ancient society through the analysis of clues found in
shamanism. Since the 1960s, shamanism has been seen as a unique key to
interpreting Korea's traditional culture. In this context, some scholars have
convincingly argued that all new Korean religions find their spiritual roots in
shamanism. Others boastfully claim that shamanism is the unique religious tradition
of the Korean people from ancient times. And of course there are those who persist
in asserting that shamanism is nothing more than a hotbed for superstition and
irrational thinking.
Thanks to the efforts of Korean studies specialists active from the 1960s onward,
shamanism's diverse roles in Korea's traditional culture are well-recognized.
Shamanism has been the agent through which ancient epics and myths have been
preserved and archaic songs and dances have been conveyed to the contemporary
performing arts community. Many people believe shamanism is the most dynamic
factor in Korean culture today, influencing as it has such major forces as Buddhism
and Christianity. The widespread performance of kosa, a simple shamanistic ritual,
reflects the enduring importance of m shamanism in our modern society.
No one can be certain how many Koreans believe in shamanism today since few
people are willing to admit they are believers and so have never been counted in
national religion surveys. A national - shamans' organization recently published
statistics indicating that they have some 40,000 due-paying members. If true, this
organization is much larger than any of the other indigenous religions extant today.
Shamanism is clearly a mighty cultural institution with vast hidden power.
The purpose of this study is to uncover the relationship between shamanism and
other religious traditions in Korea, such as Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, and
Christianity, probing the interaction between these traditions in Korea's cultural
history. First, we will examine the meaning of shamanism and then review the history
of religions in Korea.
The Meaning of shamanism
Any study of shamanism, a potentially complex phenomenon, requires an organized
framework of understanding, For this reason, I will recapitulate a few points relating
to shamanism.
The term shamanism is generally used in two ways: broadly speaking, it refers to
primitive or magic-religion; and, in a narrow sense, it indicates the distinctive
religious tradition of northern Asia. In this study, I use the term in the latter context
Shamanism is a religious practice closely related to the shaman's spiritual
experience. A shaman is a religious professional who has direct experiences of
possession and ecstasy. When in a state of possession and ecstasy, a shaman is
believed to be able to communicate with a deity or discern the deity's wishes Thanks
to these powers, the shaman is capable of telling fortunes
Thus the first and most important characteristic of shamanism is a shaman's
personal and direct experience of the deities. Shamanism is mystic by nature.
The second fundamental characteristic is function. The purpose of shamanism is to
fulfill practical human needs. People engage the services of a shaman for practical
purposes: to restore or enhance health, promote conception, acquire wealth or
power, etc. These are the most basic conditions for life in this world, and when these
needs are fulfilled, man should be happy.
This practical and worldly element is called kibok, the longing for the fulfillment of
worldly desires. Korean shamanism has blended mystic and worldly attitudes for
thousands of years and has been the central force in the maintenance and
dissemination of this mystic-worldly attitude in Korean society. It is, in other words,
the matrix for the expression of the practical needs of the common people in Korea.
As such, shamanism has had an enormous influence on classic religions such as
Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism, and Christianity.

Shamanism in the Context of Religious History

There have been two major cultural shocks ill the history of religion in Korea: first,
the introduction of the three classic Oriental religions, Confucianism, Taoism and
Buddhism; and, second, the arrival of Christianity and Western culture.
Historians are uncertain as to the exact date of the introduction of Confucianism to
Korea. There is evidence that Confucianism came to Korea, along with Chinese
writing, during the Warring States Period in China (B.C.403-221). The adoption of
Confucianism by the Koreans is evidenced by the establishment of a Royal Academy
for the training of future government officials in the Confucian tradition by the
Koguryo court in 372 AD.
Buddhism reached the Korean peninsula in the summer of 372 AD. during the reign
of Koguryo's King Sosurim (r. 371-384). Confucianism and Buddhism have coexisted
since the latter part of the fourth century and have remained the two major official
religions influencing Korea's traditional culture for the last 16 centuries. As was the
case in China, Taoism was rarely accepted as an official religion and has remained
a minor tradition in Korea.
Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism were fully developed by the latter part of the
fourth century at which time thoroughly refined metaphysical systems and processes
for logical discourse were already established
Korea was home to many indigenous religious traditions prior to the introduction of
these three classic religions, however. An ancient inscription claims that one of
Korea's indigenous religions had a far more profound spiritual message than the
three classical religions combined. Contemporary scholars generally believe that
indigenous religion was shamanism. If we define shamanism narrowly, we can see
there were a number of indigenous religious traditions whose belief systems were
quite different from that of shamanism
Nevertheless, the classic traditions of Korean culture were established under the
influence of the three major religions. Indigenous religions, including shamanism,
remained marginal after the establishment of the classic traditions.
As I mentioned above, shamanism was the most powerful belief system found
among the indigenous religious practices in archaic society and has played a central
role in the transmittance of kibok, the longing for the fulfillment of worldly desires,
from ancient times to-the present. The shamanistic belief system has provided the
Korean people with a way of expressing their unique daily needs, unlike the classic
belief systems. In principle, Confucianism provides a vision for a noble order of social
life, and Buddhism offers believers the wisdom to understand the meaninglessness
and emptiness of earthly things. However, neither religion offers an immediate
response to the most basic needs of the common people, that is, the direct alleviation
of the misery of everyday life.
For this very practical reason, Confucianism and Buddhism have incorporated
elements of shamanism into their own religious systems. Confucianism has never
excluded the shamanistic viewpoint on life and death In fact, Confucian ancestral
services have always been conducted within the context of a shamanistic belief
system. Buddhism has also accepted shamanism as a means of satisfying popular
needs. Neither kyo, the tradition of studying Buddha's words, nor son (zen), the
tradition of practicing the heart of Buddha, can satisfy these basic needs, so
Mahayana Buddhism gave birth to Tantrism, an amalgamation of the classic
Buddhist belief system and popular shamanistic beliefs. Shamanism mingled much
more easily with Taoism because Taoism by its very nature was a religious
organization born of the interrelationship between classic Taoist philosophy and
popular folk beliefs
Although shamanism has been excluded from the ranks of Koreas official religions,
it has been a persistent influence in both Confucianism and Buddhism. Shamanism's
influence on Christianity has been equally great of all the non-Western nations,
Korea is the most successfully Christianized: Christians constitute 20-25 percent of
the total population. Koreans were relatively receptive to the Christian faith from its
initial introduction since the concept of a personal deity and a human's direct
experience of divine grace are familiar spiritual concepts. History shows that
churches that emphasized the direct experience of God, regardless of the form that
experience took, and the divine guarantee of the fulfillment of worldly desires have
grown most rapidly. A church also flourishes if it emphasizes the mystic-worldly
attitude that has prevailed in the shamanistic belief system since earliest times.
The Implications of Shamanism in Korea's Religions History
Aperusal of Korea's religious history clearly indicates that the religions introduced t9
Korea from abroad soon became associated with shamanism in one way or the
other. In fact, the relationship between shamanism and the major religions has been
much stronger and more prominent than the relationship between Confucianism,
Buddhism and Christianity. The three major official religions tend to compete with
each other since each asserts its own absolute superiority. Each of these religions
is based on what its believers assert is a perfect belief system with its own refined
metaphysical outlook and logical basis Mutual accommodation between perfect or
absolute systems is impossible since an absolute cannot accept influences from
outside. Instead, accommodation has taken place through indirect relations, that is
through shamanism, a channel for expressing popular needs
Unlike the official religions, which are based on an organized belief system with
refined metaphysics and logical uses, shamanism is an attitude that is played out in
everyday life. This mystic-worldly attitude is a primal survival impulse responding to
the harsh conditions of human existence. Historically, shamanism has never
developed a belief system advanced enough to constitute an official religion. 'It has
remained a primal religion, a latent function, and powerful cultural undercurrent.
Unlike more systematic dogma, shamanism can, as a potentially latent and hidden
life attitude, interact easily with the official religions without threatening their
underlying principles.
Shamanism as the Matrix of Popular Needs
We have noted above the dual role that shamanism has played in Korea's religious
history: first, as a durable channel for the expression of distinct popular needs and,
second, as a conduit for the interrelation of the various official cultural systems. From
these two functions springs shamanism's third major function: the preservation and
perpetuation of popular culture. Korea's cultural history clearly indicates that
shamanism has been the means by which traditional culture has been transmitted
to new generations since earliest times
All three of shamanism's major functions are founded in the mystic-worldly attitude,
man's natural and primitive survival response to adverse living conditions. This
primal impulse is combined with a mystic experience of possession and ecstasy
within the context of shamanistic beliefs.
Shamanism will survive in one form or another as long as Koreans are faced with
the challenges of human life and the mystic experience of possession. Similarly, the
official religions will continue to associate with shamanistic practices as long as they
are confronted with the historical demands of popular life. And finally, as long as
shamanism remains a part of our culture, history will always require us to carefully
scrutinize the selfishness that underlies the mystic-worldly attitude and to search for
a harmonious accommodation between classical wisdom and the needs of the
common people.
2- Shamanism in the Context of Modern Korean Religion
Choi Joon Sik Assistant Professor Department of Korean Studies Ewha Womans
University
Recently on my walks through the Shinch'on neighborhood near my school I have
noticed a new phenomenon. Everyday there seems to be a fresh batch of signs
advertising "Song Parlors," a new breed of karaoke bar where customers can sing
along with recorded music and videos. Apparently this is just one more import from
Japan, but the speed with which the fad is spreading is amazing. There must be over
50 song parlors in the Shinch'on area alone. Business is booming at most of the
establishments and customers have to wait in line if they don't have reservations.
I used to think everyone loved to sing and dance when they were drinking. It wasn't
until I went to the United States to study that I realized Koreans are in a class of their
own when it comes to this sport. The people of Europe and the United States don't
seem to care much for drinking and singing except on special holidays and during
local festivals. They can nurse a single can of beer for hours while talking with
friends. We Koreans, on the other hand, have quite a different way of socializing.
We rush through the meal so we can get to the drinking, and it's only a matter of time
before the singing begins. Then it's on to another bar, and maybe even a third or
fourth, singing all the way. This is torture for someone like me who doesn't really
enjoy singing in public. I have always wondered where this tradition originated.
Korea has a unique leisure culture. It has one of the highest alcohol consumption
levels in the world, although the climate isn't particularly cold, and the people seem
to prefer singing to conversation when they gather with friends or co-workers. Just
one example is the throngs of older women one finds singing and dancing at resorts
and parks around the country on a holiday. How often do you see something like
that in the West?
Of course, this is not a new phenomenon 'The History of the Three Kingdoms" from
third century China contains references to boisterous drinking, singing and dancing
by the Koguryo and Puyo people following sacrificial rites at the new year and during
the autumn harvest festival The Korean people's unique social habits made a deep
impression on the Chinese historians simply because they were so different from
their own.
The roots of the Korean people's love for singing and dancing combined with alcohol
lies deep within the Korean consciousness in the form of sinmyong a kind of spiritual
ecstasy, and sinnaerim, the descendence of a god or spirit. These two concepts
originate in the Korean tradition of performing rites to honor the heavens. It is ancient
times the Koreans expressed the joy they experienced when they met the gods
through the medium of a shaman by drinking, singing, and dancing. This
phenomenon has become the archetype for Koreans social consciousness and
leisure culture. As a result, one could say the Koreans are reenacting their ancient
cultural traditions each time they gather for recreation.
Korean shamanism, its main motifs founded in the concepts of sinmJf5ng sinnaerim,
and kongsu (revelation or an oracle from the gods), forms the core of the Korean
people's religiosity: Thus when foreign religions are introduced, they undergo a
process of "shamanization." This is particularly true of Buddhism and the more
recently introduced Christianity. In fact, while Buddhism was severely oppressed
during the Choson Kingdom (1392-1910),which was ruled according to the precepts
of Confucianism, a philosophy relatively weak in religious implications, the religion
actively incorporated elements of indigenous shamanism.
Buddhist doctrine is flexible and will embrace all means that expedite the
promulgation of the religion. The central goal of Buddhism is enlightenment,
whatever the means used to achieve it. Nevertheless, since most people are along
way from enlightenment, Buddhist monks had to make an active effort to attract
followers to their temples. This is where the process of syncretism begins. Whenever
Buddhism is introduced to a new society, it has been quick to accommodate the
indigenous religious culture, absorbing local elements into its own religious system.
Buddhism has been able to attract followers of total religious beliefs into its temples
by a variety of means, such as asserting that the local god is simply another
manifestation of the Buddha himself. Through this process, Buddhist priests instill a
sense of intimacy in their religion, and the local people gradually come to embrace
its higher truths.
This syncretism has always been a part of Buddhism, but during the Choson
Kingdom when Buddhism was so brutally suppressed by the ruling regime, priests
were forced to resort to new survival strategies that would bring Buddhism even
closer to the common people. It was during this period that indigenous beliefs were
most actively promoted within the temple walls. Samsi'mggak (Three Spirit Hall), a
structure honoring shamanistic deities, and Ch'ilsonggak (Big Dipper Hall), a Taoist
shrine consecrated to the Big Dipper, were constructed in temple complexes, and
Buddhist priests began participating in a variety of shamanistic practices including
fortunetelling and the sale of good luck charms.
Three deities are honored in the Samsonggak, two shamanistic deities, ch'ilsong and
sansin, the mountain spirit, and one Buddhist deity known as toksong Ch'ilsong and
sansin are both rich in shamanistic significance; in fact, ch'ilsong is one of the most
important shamanistic deities since he controls human life expectancy. Traditionally,
when a Korean woman gives birth, she visits the Samsonggak and makes an offering
to ch'ilsong of a skein of thread (symbolizing long life) bearing her child's name.
Sansins significance is made clear by the copious offerings made to the mountain
spirit at nearly every private religious ceremony. In fact, the income from the shrine
honoring the mountain spirit generally exceeds that from the temple poptang the
main hall housing a statue of Buddha. No wonder a survey of Buddhist temples
around Korea revealed that while there were a few temples without a poptang every
single temple housed a samsonggak within its walls. This reflects the importance of
shamanistic deities in Korean Buddhism.
During the Choson period, the relationship between Buddhist temples and shamans
(mudang) was thoroughly symbiotic. Shamans often performed kut within the temple
walls, and Buddhist monks are said to have taken an active role in the direction of
shamanistic rites. This explicit activity no longer takes place today, but the fact that
straight laced young monks often demand the removal from the temples of all
vestiges of shamanism, such as the samsanggak and the chilsonggak, clearly
reflects the persistence of shamanistic elements in Buddhism today. I have never
heard of a case where these campaigns to remove shamanistic vestiges has been
successful, however.
Shamanism's infiltration of Buddhism has occurred over an extended period of time,
but its interaction with Christianity has been a relatively recent and intense
encounter. Some scholars argue that the success Christianity has experienced in
South Korea is the result of the rapidity with which it has been "shamanized' and
thus made more responsive to the needs of the common people. The validity of this
argument is clear when one considers the sudden growth of some, of the Christian
churches now operating in South Korea. The process of "shamanization" is most
pronounced in churches that emphasize the Holy Ghost and faith healing. In fact,
these churches are in many ways Christian on the surface only since their content
differs little from that of traditional Korean shamanism. They downplay the
significance of Jesus and God and emphasize the Holy Ghost. Perhaps this is all a
result of the Pentecostai missionaries' unconscious effort to make Christianity
conform with the indigenous Korean religiosity and collective unconsciousness in
which the concept of sinnaerim, or the descendence of a god or spirit has been such
a fundamental element. Indeed, the fact that the Pentecostal churches that
emphasize the descent of the Holy Ghost tend to have the largest followings seems
to evidence their link with indigenous shamanistic beliefs.
The similarities do not end here. Pentecostal church services do not follow any
specific order and consist instead of a repetitive chorus of hymns and chanted
prayers very much like the loud singing and dancing found in shamanistic rites. In
both cases, believers attempt to enhance their state of consciousness in order to
receive the spirit be it a shamanistic deity or the Holy Ghost. Christians achieve this
state of consciousness through chanted prayers and vigorous swaying, and the
shaman does it by shouting or singing as he or she leaps about in a frenzied dance.
The similarities are remarkable.
In many cases, the christening or baptismal ceremonies held in these churches are
performed as a means of curing illnesses, rather than as a tool for promoting belief.
Much of the rapid growth recorded by the Pentecostal churches has occurred
because new believers hope to cure their own illnesses or those of family members.
Patients with chronic diseases often find their way to these churches or religious
retreat centers affiliated with these churches after conventional medicine has failed
to produce a, cure. Prior to the introduction of Christianity, these patients visited
shamans for the same purpose. Today clergymen, lay preachers, and evangelists
are playing the role performed by the shaman doctor (muui) during the Choson
period. Of course, the content and conduct of the "treatment" is almost identical
Professor Kim Kwang-il's field study on faith healing provides us with a detailed
understanding of this phenomenon.
According to this study, most Pentecostal clergymen attribute illnesses to ghosts or
evil spirits just as shamanism attributes both illness and misfortune to departed
souls. Korean shamanism's conception of human evil and suffering is extremely
simple: the source of all evil and misfortune lies in the resentment harbored by
departed souls against the living. This "projective" belief system searches for
external causes to illness or misfortune and thus stands in stark contrast to the
established religions in which the misfortunes plaguing the living are seen as the
result of man's own lack of self-awareness or ignorance.
The shaman plays the role of mediator between the disgruntled spirits and their
descendants, preventing the spirits from harming the living by relieving them of their
resentment and sending them peacefully into the other world.
The function of the Pentecostal clergyman is much the same. If there is a difference,
it would be in the manner in which they handle the spirits. Pentecostal Christians use
coercion to drive the spirits away, and the shamans use more humane methods to
cajole the spirits into leaving on their own accord. For this reason I feel the exorcisms
performed by shamans are much more Korean in nature.
Despite this distinction, however, the actual names and nature of the spirits that
cause disease or misfortune are strikingly similar in the Christian and shamanistic
contexts. For example, we find 'virgin ghosts" of young women who have died before
they had a chance to marry, "angry ancestral ghosts" who died unjustly, frustrated
'widow ghosts,' and "beggar ghosts" who died of starvation. In both the Christian and
shamanistic contexts, the ghosts harass the living because they want revenge for
unfair treatment during their lifetimes.
The vocabulary and intonation used by Christian clergymen when they are driving
away evil spirits is also similar to those of a professional shaman. A clergyman might
say, "You evil demon! Get out of here!" while a shaman will shout, "Hey ghost! Have
some rice-cakes and get lost!" In his field study, Professor Kim notes the shamanistic
atmosphere of a Christian faith healing ceremony:
I knew I was in a Christian church and these people were clergymen and lay
preachers, but I was amazed by how their prayers, intonation, gestures, facial
expressions, and movements resembled shamanistic chants and the utterances 0/
a shaman speaking or the dead.
Shamanism's influence on Korea's contemporary religions is not limited to the
established religious traditions of Buddhism or Christianity discussed above.
Shamanism has also had a great influence on the new religions that have developed
since the late nineteenth century. While more than 300 distinct religions have
appeared during this period, I would like to focus on a special interest of mine: the
Chungsan lineage founded by Kang ll-sun (1871-1909), better known by his pen
name, Chungsan.
'The Great Peregrination' (Taesun Jonegyong), a written record of Chungsan's
teachings, reveals an astonishing collection of religious elements from
Confucianism, Buddhism, religious Taoism (sondo), the cosmic principles, of the yin
and the yang, geomancy, and other beliefs. Chongsan is widely recognized as
Korea's greatest religious syncretist In fact, although his teachings appear to be a
religious hodgepodge at first glance, an in-depth analysis reveals a home tradition
founded on the concept of the resolution of resentment (haewon). Chungsan made
haewon the core of his teachings and through the reevaluation of other religious
doctrines formed a remarkably viable belief structure. We must note, however, that
the term haewon is simply a Chinese ideograph expression synonymous with the
shamanistic term for resolution, puri.
According to Chungsan's teachings, the universe has been in a state of confusion
since its inception because the basic framework of heaven and earth is unstable.
Mutual human resentment springing from this imbalance has accumulated over the
centuries to the point where the universe is on the brink of exploding. In order to
rescue the earth and universe from annihi1ation, man must eliminate this
accumulated resentment The first order of business is placating those who have died
without resolving their resentment This is not a task for common humans but rather
must be performed by the cntroller of the universe and Chungsan, the savior of the
world.
Chungsan made a special point of calling for the resolution of the resentment
harbored by the spirits of, women who were treated inhumanely by men. 'The Ritual
of Cosmic Renewal" (Ch'onji Kongsa), Chungsan's own religious consciousness,
sought to launch a new age in which the resentments of all oppressed peoples,
particularly women, farmers, and servants, would be alleviated An equally important
point was Chungsan's insistence that his followers not only work to alleviate past
resentments but also strive to avoid creating any further resentment.
For all intents and purposes, Chungsan could be called a great shaman who sought
to rid the world of resentment and bring about a new state of harmony. His 'Ritual of
Cosmic Renewal' can be seen as a rite aimed at purifying the universe. I believe
these teachings were successful because Chungsan had the religious genius to
embrace the shamanistic concept of resentment, so familiar to the Korean people,
as the central focus of his own religious framework, to reevaluate it, and then
reshape it into an advanced religious form that would provide solace to those people
who had lost their sense of spiritual direction.
His teachings also transcended the narrow focus on the individual and family that
has characterized shamanism.
Chugsans positive message, which encourages human kindness, seems to have
struck a chord in the religious con.sci6usness of the Korean people for he had many
followers during his lifetime and more than 60 different sects grew out of the original
Chungsan lineage. He remains popular among intellectuals, especially university
students.
In many respects, this discussion has been one-sided since I have focused on South
Korea while ignoring the state of shamanism in North Korea. Many people may ask
how there can be any religion in the North, but ironically, North Korea the most anti-
religious state in the world, is actually one of the most religious. In the eyes of religion
scholars, the personality cult centered around Kim II-sung is a perfect example of a
secular religion.. Since we have no way of knowing how the North Korean people
themselves feel, it of course is difficult to discuss this issue here. Nevertheless, the
shamanistic elements of the Kim ll-sung cult are worthy of our attention. In fact, the
Kim cult cannot be explained in any other context For example, take the passion with
which North Koreans speak of Kim. Certainly the German people's worship of Hitler
and the Chinese people's veneration of Mao were passionate, but neither of these
nations demonstrated the ecstasy exhibited by the North Koreans in their idolization
of Kim The image of adoring Kim followers broadcast on television reminds one of
the frenzied behavior of a shaman in a state of spiritual ecstasy. Perhaps this is why
communism, albeit in a unique form, has endured in North Korea while it has
collapsed nearly everywhere else.
Marxism has been called a covert religion by many religious scholars, and it has
been termed a kind of secular Christianity that ultimately cannot be understood
outside the context of Christianity. Nevertheless, these two ideological religions, or
religious ideologies, thrive to the North and South of the 38th parallel with a vitality
unparalleled in the rest of the world I believe this phenomenon can only be explained
in terms of shamanism, Korea's unique indigenous religious milieu.
3- Shamanistic Images in Korean Mythology
Kim Yulkyu Professor, Department of Korean Literature Inje University

Although all myths originating in Korea can be conveniently grouped under the rubric
Korean mythology; this sweeping generalization ignores the differences between
these myths. Korean myths are best divided into four major categories according to
their socio-cultural backgrounds:
1) Foundation myths; 2) shamanistic myths; 3) clan myths; and 4) village myths.
However, all these myths share two basic characteristics first, they generally concern
the founders of a clan, village, kingdom or belief; and second, they are tied, directly
or indirectly, to shamanistic beliefs and principles. Indeed, most Korean myths can
be categorized as foundation myths, and their protagonists constitute what could be
called "cultural heroes", figures who create culture and thereby make the world fit for
human life.
These foundation myths, secular as they may seem at first glance, are based on
religious beliefs and principles that are predominately shamanistic. Thus, it can be
argued that in Korean myths, the "principles of sanctification", which are essential
ingredients of any myth, are rooted in shamanism. Not only does this mean Korean
mythology's cosmogony and outlooks on both the world and humanity were
influenced by shamanism, but also it suggests that mythology's narrative grammar
partially reflects the initiation process found in Korean shamanism.
For example, the grounds for regarding ancient Korean kings as "shaman kings" are
generally discovered in myths about the founding of ancient Korean kingdoms.
These myths suggest that the authority of a king partially overlapped that of the
shaman, or that the former emanated from the latter. In fact, Samguk Yusa, a history
of the Three Kingdoms written by the Buddhist monk Iryon (1206-89), shows that the
people of the Silla Kingdom (57 B.C.-A.D. 935) used the term chachung("literally full
of mercy") to refer not only to their kings but to shamans as well.
The similarity between some Silla era gold crowns and those used by Siberian
shamans further accentuates the overlapping roles of the king and shaman.
However, to understand this connection, we must compare the mythology and
shamanistic beliefs of Korea and Siberia.
Mythology and Shamanism as Revealed in Silla Gold Crowns
The upper portion of the most refined Silla gold crowns is adorned with three different
ornaments: tree-like shapes; antlers; and wings similar to those of a bird. The tree-
shaped designs are in the center of the front and the antlers and wings adorn the
sides and back. What is the significance of this arrangement? What do the images
symbolize, both individually and collectively? The symbolism found in these crowns
raises questions about the relationship between royal authority and shamanism in
the Silla era as well as about links between Silla mythology and shamanistic beliefs.
When considering these questions, however, we must remember that they are
founded in an understanding of the transformation of visual language, in this case a
my thogram, into oral1anguage, or mythology.
The vertical shapes with upturned forked branches found on the top of Silla crowns
are generally recognized as tree designs. They could be seen as antler images, but
I believe the conventional reading is more appropriate. These symbolic trees, more
specifically "cosmic trees" or "world trees"; sustain the cosmos (world) by towering
at its center. In Korea, the concept of a cosmic tree is found in the idea of sindansu,
the tree where Tan'gun. Korea's mythical founder, established Ancient Choson, in
the image of soda, a large tree with shamanistic significance that was the site of
religious rites during the Samhan period, and in the concept of sonang namu, the
guardian tree still found at the entrances of many rural villages. Sindansu and
sonang namu are also considered the vehicles by which gods descend from heaven
to earth.
The notion of a cosmic tree is found in many cultures around the world. The most
familiar to Koreans may be the pipal or Bodhi tree found in Buddhism The concept
of the Asokan Pillars of Indian culture also is linked to the idea of a cosmic tree. The
fact that cosmic trees can be found in Indo-Iranian culture shows just how
widespread this notion has become.
The symbolism embodied in the pipal tree is two-fold. The more commonly
recognized view is associated with the Sakyamuni Buddha who is said to have
achieved enlightenment under a tree. However, if we search for the archetypal image
of this enlightenmnent tree, we find that it stems from the image of a huge tree whose
branches reach the sky and whose roots extend to a spring deep beneath the earth,
that is, the cosmic tree itself. Add to this the obvious symbolism of the Asokan Pillars
and one easily recognizes the Buddhist image of a cosmic tree.
In this context, the cosmic tree constitutes the core of Indo-Iranian cosmogony, and
it goes without saying that it also is the nucleus of that culture's cosmography. No
significant difference can be discerned between the Indo-Iranian cosmic tree and
that of the northern region stretching from Scandinavia to the eastern edge of
Siberia. One can safely say that the notion of a cosmic tree exists throughout the
vast oval zone connecting the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean on the one hand,
and the northern boundary of Siberia on the other. Needless to say, the Korean
sindansu, soda and sanang namu are all part of this phenomenon.
However, the Korean sindansu differs from the cosmic trees of Indo-Iranian culture
in that it is not only the backbone of cosmogony but, at the same time, is a 'shaman
tree" through which the shaman communicates with the deities. This latter aspect
clearly demonstrates that Korean cosmic trees share the roots of those found
throughout Siberia. The amano hashira (pillars of heaven) and himorogi found in
Japanese mythology spring from these same roots
Korean cosmic trees are also closely linked to Siberian shaman trees, or turu, and
pillars, known as obo. A turu is a tree through which the soul of a man or woman
being initiated as a shaman travels to and from the heavens in the course of the
initiation process. The tree is marked with the layers of heaven through which the
shaman's soul must pass and thus may be regarded as a stairway to heaven. Since
the tree can be used by a shaman, it is only natural the deities in heaven can use it
on their trips to and from earth
Here lies a clue to why the tree-shaped designs on the Silla crowns were placed in
the center. They symbolize both shaman trees and the trees at the center of the
universe and world, which mediate between the heavenly world of the gods and the
human world on earth. Naturally they are placed at the center of the crown After all,
the king of the earth was also the Lord of the universe, and, as mentioned above.
Silla kings had the authority of shamans as well.
This point is illustrated by the life of King Hon'gang who ruled from 875 to 886 toward
the end of the Silla Kingdom. King Hon'gang not only saw divine spirits invisible to
others but also expressed his vision of them through dance. This suggests that he
was a 'seer' with the shaman's ability to experience the mystic. This can also be
regarded as a remnant of the early Silla kings' sacred authority, which was
inseparably tied to shamanistic beliefs,
The symbolism embodied in the antler shaped ornaments on Shilla crowns is more
easily deciphered. The myth of King Tongm yang, the founder of the Koguryo
Kingdom (37 B.C-A.D.668), suggests that deer were considered mediators between
heaven and earth. In addition, Samguk Sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms) makes
several references to the appearance of "sacred deer.' Moreover, archaeologists
excavating an ancient tomb in Koryong, north Kyongsang Province, where the
confederated Kaya Kingdom once ruled, found antlers placed at the head of the
coffin. All this reveals how strong deer worship was in ancient Korea
Traces of deer and antler worship have been found extensively in Siberia as well,
For example, the antlers enshrined at the sacred sites of one tribe living at the
western end of Siberia, fit into this category. However, a more direct parallel to the
antlers on Korean gold crowns would be those found on the shaman crowns used
by some Siberian ethnic groups. Real antlers adorn the center of these simple
shaman crowns and are said to symbolize the weapons that the shamans wore on
their trips to and from the heavens. However, one should not forget that antlers, and,
by extension, deer, also represent rebirth or resurrection, for they, like a tree,
undergo the cycle of molting in autumn and regeneration in spring. It was through
this dual symbolism that antlers may have found their way into shaman crowns, and
by the same token, onto the crowns of Silla kings.
We cannot be certain whether the bird wing ornaments on Silla crowns represent the
wings of an eagle or duck. Moreover, given the Koguryo myth in which a pigeon
serves as a messenger from the goddess mother, Yuhwa, we cannot rule out the
possibility that the wings are those of a pigeon These birds, together with the magpie,
which appears as a propitious sign in the myth of King Tarhae, the fourth monarch
of Silla are the sacred birds most revered in ancient Korea. This worship of sacred
birds explains why the Koguryo people's headbands were decorated with the
feathers of a bird's wing. If we view the designs on the Silla crowns as the wings of
an eagle or duck, then the ties between these crowns and shamanism are fortified
Eagles, for example, can symbolize either the first shamans to live on earth or the
birds that transported those shamans to earth in the first place.
What do these three symbolic images add up to? The tree designs symbolize the
central pillar sustaining the universe. The deer implied by the antler-like ornaments
stands for the richness and fertility of the earth, and the wings represent the cosmic
nature of the bird. Put together, they testify to the sacredness of the authority of the
Silla kings, extending not only through heaven and earth, but also to the-
underground world. These symbols also suggest that this authority was backed by
shamanistic faith.

Koguryo Mythology and Kut

This close relationship between royal authority and shamanism suggest the myths
about the foundation of ancient Korean kingdoms are directly related to shamanism.
In other words, if the power of the ancient kings was closely intertwined with
shamanistic beliefs, it naturally follows that the myths about this royal authority were
intimately linked to shamanism. The dynastic foundation myths of ancient Korea
could therefore, be called "shamanistic myths of royal authority.' This is simply
another way of saying that the authority of the founders of the ancient kingdoms
depended to a considerable degree on their possession of shamanistic authority.
The myths are, to a large measure, a reflection of the process by which a shaman
was initiated In ancient Korea, the process by which the founder of a dynasty
consolidated his power was similar to that by which a person gained the authority of
a shaman. The royal inauguration process either overlapped with or reflected the
shamanistic initiation process
From this standpoint, Koguryo mythology, especially the myth of King Yuri, the
second king of Koguryo, takes on deep significance, According to the myth, King
Yuri underwent three tests before being appointed crown prince: he had to solve an
enigma, discover his real father, and demonstrate his own superhuman strength. It
is not difficult to see that this process parallels the typical shamanistic initiation
process
Of these three tasks, the test in which Yuri demonstrates his mysterious power best
reveals the relationship between Korean mythology and shamanism. After Yuri
passed the first two tests, King Tongmyong, his father and the semi-legendary
founder of Koguryo, asked his son to demonstrate his mysterious powers. Yuri
immediately flew up to the sun on a wooden window frame. Seeing this, King
Tongmyong appointed his son crown prince.
Yuri's flight is similar in nature to the trips to the cosmos or heavenly world so
characteristic of Siberian shamanism. It is also comparable to the "high jumps' or
'flying' demonstrations that constituted part of the initiation process for Siberian
shamans. This trip to the cosmos or heavenly world was believed to be made by the
shaman's soul, and through this trip, the shaman's soul met the heavenly deities and
thereby attained shamanistic authority.
There are many other figures in Korean mythology who are reputed to have been
capable of traveling to the heavenly world: Pak Hyokkose, the first king of Silla;
Hwanung Tan'gun's father; King Suro, the founder of Kaya; Kim Aichi; King
Tongmyong, Yuri's father; 'and Haemosu, Yuri's grandfather. The myth of Haemosu
describes how he shuttled between the heavens and earth in a dragon-drawn
carriage and King Tongmyong's myth describes him making the same trip on a
fabulous giraffe-like horse. Thus during its foundation period, Koguryo was ruled by
kings who could make cosmic trips.
Yuri's flight is described in the "Saga of King Tongmyong", a narrative poem by Yi
Kyu-bo (1168-1241). The incident is really more fairy tale than myth. In fact, it is
mythical only in the most secular sense of the term, but, in any case, it is immensely
suggestive because of its link to the cosmic travel of shamans. The fact that Yuri
rode a window frame suggests Koguryo dwellings were covered with sloping walls
since it is unlikely the window frame was part of a vertical wall. Perhaps the Koguryo
people lived in underground dwellings or dugouts similar to the Paekche era
dwellings found along the Han River. In fact, ancient Chinese history books refer to
underground housing in the northern part of the Korean Peninsula
The myth of King Yuri suggests an underground hut with a roof close to ground level.
A house with a window in its roof could be called a house open to the sky. This not
only implies that the house itself was viewed as an imitation of the cosmos, but also
that openness to the sky was an important element in the principles of life maintained
by the Koguryo people. According to one Koguryo myth recorded in Chinese
documents, King Kori was conceived after his mother was infected by 'sacred forces"
that poured into the house from the heavens. This suggests a house that opens to
the sky. Given the structure of Koguryo housing, we could say that the Koguryo
people felt at ease with the concepts of cosmic travel to the heavenly world
The foundation myth of the Ancient Choson Kingdom describes how Hwanung, the
deity father of Tan'gun, descended from heaven to the sindansu tree on Mt.
Taebaek.
From these mythical accounts, we can conclude that the concept of a trip to the
cosmos or heavenly world, through linkages with shamanistic beliefs, was
universally accepted in the Koguryo and Ancient Choson societies

Kaya Mythology and the Pyosin kut

The myth of King Tongmyong typifies the myths connecting the enthronement of
monarchs with shamanistic initiation rites and thus reflects the close relationship
between mythology and shamanism. Not only did the shamanistic initiation process
determine the narrative structure of Korean foundation myths, but those myths
actually came to serve the purpose of initiation. In other words, these myths about
dynastic founders were actually shamanistic rituals, more specifically the pyolsin kut
still performed today. The pyolsin kut is not only a religious ceremony, in which the
agricultural and fishing village honors its guardian deities but also is a village-wide
festival. The large festivals held in ancient Korean kingdoms, such as the susin kut
and the tongmaeng kut of Koguryo, the yanggo of Puyo, and the muchon of Ye, are
all believed to have been pyolsin kut. The fact that the protagonists of ancient
foundation myths were also the heroes of shamanistic rituals indicates that they were
worshipped by their people much like the deities worshipped in the pyolsin kut. This
point deserves particular emphasis in. any discussion of the relationship between
Korean mythology and shamanism.
In fact, the myth of King Suro, Kaya's founder, is the linguistic rendering of the Kaya
people's version of the pyolsin kut. According to the myth, a god named Suro orders
the people of Kaya to prepare for his descent with dancing and singing. This can be
seen as a kind of oracle, or kongsu in traditional shamanistic parlance. The god
descended to earth only after confirming that the people had followed his order.
Thus the kut was performed in strict accordance with the god's oracle. This confirms
the fact that a myth, generally takes the form of an autobiographical tale told to the
people by a god. It is important that we realize that a myth is a story that the god tells
humans about himself before it is a tale that humans tell about a deity.
The god in heaven orders the humans to do something, and they in turn obey his
orders, or kongsu. This is what Kaya's pyolsin kut is all about, and, at the same time,
this is the essence of Korean mythology.
Kaya's foundation myth is clearly a myth indivisibly linked to shamanistic ritual. The
various pyolsin kut held in rural villages today are in essence a modern reenactment
of the Kaya myth.
Shamanism has been oppressed in Korea since the Middle Ages. The Choson
Kingdom harshly suppressed shamanism, and during that period it seems to have
lost its status as the ideological means of sanctifying a dynasty as had been the case
until the Koryo Kingdom.
However, shamanistic beliefs did not wither away easily. Some elements of the royal
family and upper class continued to practice shamanistic rituals, and shamanism
remained the dominant religion in the villages. It was also incorporated into many
new nationalistic religions, such as Ch'ondogyo, and played a decisive role in the
Tonghak Rebellion, a watershed event in the late nineteenth century. More
importantly, shamanism's influence remains strong in many Christian denominations
today: In fact, the Korean people have found it hard to shake off the shamanistic
approach to religion
Thus, it could be argued that, regardless of their explicit beliefs, contemporary
Koreans are not totally free of shamanism's influence. It is ingrained in their
unconscious as are, by extension, the images of ancient mythology.
4- Shamanism and the Korean Psyche
Bou Yong Rhi,M.D. Professor, Department of Psychiatry, College of Medician Seoul
National University

One summer back in the late sixties I was asked to lecture on shamanism at a
gathering of Korean students in West Germany. At the time I was studying at the
C.G. Jung Institute in Zurich and in the midst of writing my dissertation on Korean
shamanism. After being away from home for so long, I was happy for the chance to
get together with other Koreans. On the eve of the seminar there was a dinner party
with lots of dancing and singing- quite a change of scenery for someone who had
spent the last few years living among the rational Swiss. I couldn't help but watch my
fellow Koreans in amazement
The following day after I gave a short lecture on Korean shamanism and its
psychological implications one of the students asked if shamanism was still a factor
in Korean society today.
The previous night's festivities popped into my mind immediately
"Oh yes, shamanism still exists; I said. "After watching you last night, I'm sure you
all have the makings of great shamans. Wasn't that party proof that shamanism is
alive inside of each and every one of you?"
The audience burst into laughter, but, in fact, the party had demonstrated to me that
those singing Koreans were, indeed, masters in ecstasy, what Eliade has referred
to as the unique characteristic of shamanism.(1)
I began my study of shamanism reading the essays of Ch'oi Nam-son, Yi Nung-
hwa's studies on Choson era shamanism, and Akiba's field work on Korean
shamanism from the I920s and 1930s. My first encounter with Siberian shamanism
came in 1959, and it was from that point that I began to feel a strange sense of
inspiration growing within me. The feeling intensified later when I was in Europe and
began reading Eliade's writings. It was a new world for me, a dark and distant world
that frightened me and yet made me curious, a strangely mad world, an unreal world,
an irrational world. My initial research goal was determining whether sinbyong the
shamanist initiation disease, was a culture-bound syndrome. However, I soon
realized that my psychopathological approach was off the mark, and so I began
approaching the question from another angle: did shamanism, as the underlying
foundation of Korean culture, constitute the basis of the Korean psyche?
I chose Korean shamanism as the topic for my dissertation at the Jung Institute
because of an internal desire to find the roots of the Korean people's mentality I felt
that shamanism was Korea's most authentic cultural legacy, but we had forgotten it
in the course of our Westernized lives.
I had dreams about elements of shamanism even before I began writing my
dissertation, and as I wrote, they became more and more vivid. Thus, my study of
shamanism was not so much an attempt to investigate the psyche of the Korean
people as a whole as it was a personal bid to revive the premordial experience of
one particular Korean, that is, myself, while at the same time applying Jung's theory
of archetypes, which asserted that this premordial experience was not limited to the
Korean people but rather was a feature shared by all mankind
A scholar's choice of discipline is influenced by a variety of factors, both external and
internal However, generally speaking, the decision to choose a particular field is
influenced less by material or external phenomena than by psychological elements
related to the scholar's unconscious complexes. This is especially true in the case
of scholars who devote their lives to the study of one particular subject. In fact, it is
not uncommon for scholars studying Korean shamanism to rediscover lost elements
of themselves in the course of their research and to begin a process of self-healing
by reintegrating those elements into their own consciousness
Interestingly enough, In the 1960s and 1970s, the vast majority of the scholars active
in this field were Christians or people with a strong background in Confucianism. Of
course, the degree to which each of these scholars was a ware of how much their
consciousness was cut off from their Korean traditions because of their Christian
beliefs or how their study of shamanism was affecting that break with tradition varied
with the individual. Nevertheless, there is a tendency for these scholars to develop
an ambivalent attitude toward the subject matter despite their strong attraction to
shamanism.
Actually, the contemporary Korean's feeling of ambivalence toward shamanism is
only natural. The advanced religions and rationalist modern man tend to feel a
certain hostility toward the cantatory elements of shamanism. The brilliant colors, the
boisterous drumming, the wild dancing, the shaman's impudent attitude and coarse
language as she delivers the gods' messages - this can upset a person who values
rationalism and good manners. However, a closer look at the shaman's ceremony
reveals a rich world of symbols that are found not only in Korean shamanism but
throughout modern society. In fact, these symbols constitute mankind's premordial
experiences and serve as the fountainhead of modern mans spiritual life.
The outlook on human life portrayed in C.G. Jung's "Viewpoint of Analytical
Psychology" was decisive in my realization of this fact. After returning to Korea in
1968, I saw that, as a Jungian analyst, I couldn't possibly understand my Korean
patients without first understanding the symbolism found in shamanism and other
folk beliefs, which played such an important role in their dreams, and, by extension,
their unconscious. I realized that shamanism was much like a vessel in which all the
archetypal images that formed the basis for what Jung called "the collective
unconscious" were contained. By understanding Korean shamanism, which had
been transmitted through history relatively free of humanity's artificial intellectual
embellishments, I felt I could achieve a deeper insight into the Korean unconscious.
In my work, I have found that the ideas of wholeness and the union of opposites are
the most significant symbols in Korean shamanism. In the state of ecstasy, the
shaman links this world, the human world, with the other world this process is
identical to the psychological process used to break down the barriers between the
unconscious and conscious worlds. In the shamanistic initiation process, the
shaman often meets spirits in his or her dreams. This could be called a hieros gama
(sacred spirit) theme.
Actually, the concept of uniting two worlds, of fusing two opposites into one, can be
found in all advanced religions. What is unique to shamanism is that this experience
is linked to ecstasy, a state of intense emotional. The symbolic "world tree' found
among the nomadic peoples of Siberia is an example of the concept of "oneness'
realized through a state of ecstasy. In Siberian shamanism, climbing the sacred trees
signifies flight to the heavens. In Korean shamanism, the concept of a sacred tree
exists in the form of tangsan. However, the concept of the center of the world is
weak. The Korean tangsan are always referred to in pairs, such as the grandfather
and grandmother tangsan, thus reflecting the totality of the concept. Sacred bells,
bird feathers, and brightly colored fabric are attached to the sacred tree, and when
it is placed in the hand of the shaman it is believed to be the route by which the spirits
descend to earth.
The Weltanschauung of the nomadic peoples of central Asia and Siberia is archaic
compared to that of Korean shamanism. In Korean shamanism, the concept of the
boundary between the outside world and the village itself is much stronger than the
world-centered outlook. This is why we see a leveling out of the Siberian concept of
a three-dimensional universe (the underworld, the world on earth, and the heavens)
in Korean shamanism. This is reflected in the Korean people's placement of guardian
totem poles (changsuni,) bearing the titles of "general of the underworld" and
"general of the heavens" at the entrance to many villages. The symbol of wholeness
found in Korean shamanism is expressed through the motif of harmony or the union
of opposites, a reflection of the relationship between yin and yang (umyang in
Korean).
However, both Korean shamanism and shamanism in general agree that this
harmonization will not be achieved without conflict or pain This is why we find pain,
death, and resurrection in the shamanistic initiation process everywhere.
In Siberian eskimo culture, the prospective shaman must go into a cave and wait
without food for days in hopes of seeing a spirit. If a spirit appears, the novice
shaman adopts it as a guardian spirit. However, in the nomadic cultures of central
Asia and Siberia, the prospective shaman must endure a horrifying initiation rite
involving dismemberment. During this initiation, the initiator rips apart the flesh, eyes,
and organs of the novice shaman and places the rest of the body in a cauldron to
boil. When only the bones remain, the initiator selects a few and revives the dead by
adding new flesh and organs. Thus through death, the prospective shaman is reborn
with a new body and is capable of curing the ill and guiding dead souls to the other
world. The greater the pain one endures in this dismemberment process, the greater
one's power as a small I doubt there are many initiation processes that place this
much emphasis on the significance of pain. For those of us in modern society, so
eager to avoid pain at all costs, true shamanism shows us how the state of
wholeness found in ecstasy cannot be achieved without pain.
Immense pain is also an essential part of the Korean shaman's initiation process.
Kangsinmu, shamans who receive their calling through spiritual possession, must
undergo sinbyong physical illness borne of a state of mental derangement, in the
initiation process. Unlike the shamanistic initiations of central Asia or Siberia,
sinbyong is a form of spiritual possession.
Occasionally we find examples of dismemberment in Korean myths and legends, but
the concept is not found in shaman chants or ceremonies. In the Korean shamanistic
initiation, the prospective shaman or sindal (literally "spiritual daughter") is initiated
into the calling through the naerim kut ceremony under the direction of the sin omoni
(literally "spiritual mother:'). Through this process, the "false master; the spirit who is
causing the sinbyong is driven out and a benevolent helping spirit (momju) is
enshrined in the new shaman's body. Ecstasy is not simply the achievement of a
high state of emotion; rather, the newly initiated must be able to deliver a spiritual
oracle (kongsu) while in that state. The naerim kut goes on for hours until the kongsu
is delivered, and if no oracle is announced, the kut is performed again on another
day. The rite of dismemberment practiced in central Asian shamanism reflects the
unique nature of a nomadic culture, while the concept of possession found in Korean
shamanism is characteristic of the life of an agricultural people. However, both cases
vividly reveal the importance of suffering to the process by which the initiated
achieves the power to mediate between this world and the other world One can only
become a great healer after overcoming the pain of initiation.
The harmonization of totality is also a factor in the kut as a whole. Kut is generally
composed of 12 acts, each kori, each kori a distinct unit involving possession by a
different deity. The personalities of these various deities are unique- the taegam
deity is greedy and crude while the Buddhist influenced posal is mild and pious. The
combination of these different deities over the course of the 12.act but, thus reflects
the full range of human emotions. In each act, this world is linked to the other world
through confrontation and emotional assimilation. The reconciliation of the living and
the dead is not achieved easily; rather it is accomplished through a process of
emotional confrontation. The kori begins with a flurry of complaints and threats from
the deities in the form of the oracle or bongsu, but by the end, the living participants
in the but manage to extort the deities' forgiveness and blessing after considerable
squabbling.
In the chosang kori (the ancestors' act) and the chinogi, in which the angry spirits of
dead ancestors are appeased the dead express their resentment through the
shaman, and the living voice their grievances in return. This practice of nok duri, the
expression of grievances and resentment by both the living and the dead, has
various psychotherapeutic implications. Perhaps most revealing is the paridegi
portion of the chinogi paridegi is a dramatic portrayal of the Pari Kongju myth (See
Hwang Rushi) performed through song, dance and narration. This kori constitutes
the initiation of Paridegi (Pari Kongju) into the ranks of the shamans and, to a certain
extent, represents an effort to overcome the pain and discrimination suffered by the
Korean woman in Korea's patriarchal society. This kori is performed after the nok
duri section where the living and dead express their resentment and pain
The paridegi portion of the chinogi suggests that the despair of the living and the
dead cannot be resolved through complaints alone. Rather one must realize that
spiritual peace is only achieved through the endurance of pain.
Korean shamanism, and shamanism in general, stresses the significance of
suffering and embodies the concepts of the accommodation of pain, the
harmonization of opposites, and the existence of a single world that embraces this
world and the world beyond the living. However, what is the relationship between
these concepts and the Korean psyche?
The Korean psyche is much more closely linked to the emotionality of shamanism
than to its doctrine. The Korean people are ecstasy oriented, whether it be on an
overt or covert level. Koreans may seem very individualistic and independent on the
surface, but once they discover a doctrine or object with sacred force that transcends
the individual, they bind together firmly with religious intensity. In fact, in many was,
it seems that the Korean people are constantly searching for that sacred force,
whether it takes the form of the Olympic Games, an export quota, a great leader, or
even a revival meeting. This is why the ecstasy phenomenon is so vibrant in
Christian churches in Korea today. The minister activates the archetypal elements
within the believers, causing them to experience the sacred force and so curing their
illnesses. However, this emotionality can simply degenerate into a spontaneous
festival of emotion, devoid of insight into the significance of the experience. That is
to say, it can end in a sort of ego inflation, much the way the nokduri allows for the
expression of grievances, without ever advancing to the level of understanding found
ill the paridegi section of the kut.
Specific manifestations of Korean shamanism do not play an especially important
role in the Korean people's consciousness or unconscious. That is to say, shamans
or elements of the but do not appear in modern Koreans' dreams on a regular basis,
and if they do, they usually have a negative connotation. This is because in everyday
life modern Koreans tend to hold shamanism at a respectful distance or ignore it
altogether. However, if we analyze the Korean peoples actions, we can find a
number of elements emerging from the unknown world of Korean shamanism,
elements such as irrational or superrational thinking and a tendency toward
excessive emotion, I believe shamanism does not form the Korean consciousness
but rather is a form of psychic energy already existing on the surface of the
consciousness. Elements repressed in our unconscious are not irrational rather they
are rational elements essential to modern man, the unconscious shadow of the
modern Korean. We only find unconscious shamanistic elements in the cases of
Westerners or Koreans who have been cut off from their indigenous culture through
Western education. I first sensed this when I began my analysis of Korean patients
in the 1970s, but there doesn't seem to have been much change since then.
The Korean psyche is a product of history, subject to the effects of time and regional
differences, and therefore difficult to define in a simple phrase, However, I have
always felt that Korean shamanism is one of several important cultures that con,
tribute to the formation of the Korean psyche. Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, and
other religious elements influence the unique nature of the Korean character
together with shamanism. In fact, they play a decisive role in determining the Korean
psyche, Throughout history. Confucianism and shamanism have been in conflict with
each other, Confucianism is based on intellectualist, aesthetic and patriarchal values
while shamanism tends to construct anew order in the unconscious through religious
spontaneity, emotional experience, maternal tolerance, and a breakdown of the
existing society's ethical norms.
Confucianism was adopted as the official norm during the 500-year reign of the
Choson Kingdom, however, and modern Koreans today continue to embrace this
tradition, maintaining Confucian human relations sprinkled with touches of Buddhist,
shamanistic, Taoist, or even Christian beliefs, The unique character of each psyche
is influenced by the individual's religion, However, because of its unique nature as a
primitive incantatory religion, I believe shamanism is alive in the depths of every
Korean's psyche. In recent years, however, we have seen an increase in the number
of Koreans for whom Confucian elements are relatively weak compared to
shamanistic elements, In these cases, a number of uniquely shamanistio behavioral
types appear in the form of what we could call "shamanistic human relations." Unlike
the uniquely shamanistic elements linked to the ecstasy phenomenon, these
behaviors seem to be the result of the influence of Korean history on Korean
shamanism. For example, the relationship between deities and humans in the but is
remarkably similar to that between our society's ruling elite and the common people.
The authority of shamanistic deities is not absolute; rather they reign as a relative
entity who bargains with humans. The delivery of the deity's oracle in the kut is in
many ways a dialogue between the deity and the human participants The humans
resist the deity's threats and use all manner of tricks and flattery to win the deity over
to their side. This "bargaining" is very much like what we see in the market place or
in exchanges between motorists and traffic cops everyday. Indeed, this give-and,
take is a common feature of Korean human relations, a feature quite removed from
traditional Confucian ethics in which vertical relations are strictly maintained.
The bawdy language and blatant references to worldly and sexual desires found in
kut contrast sharply with the Confucian value system, which promotes self-control.
At times, these particular aspects of Korean shamanism reflect the repressed
unconscious of those thoroughly indoctrinated in Confucian culture. By freely
expressing what lies deep in the unconscious of the Confucianized Korean,
shamanism provides a shock to the existing value system, thus promoting a
reconstruction of those values.
Where do we find shamanism in our society today? Right in the hearts of the Korean
people. Shamanism is the world of our ancestors, the world of the dead, as well as
the foundation of our consciousness. Over the centuries, man has explored the
unknown world of the human mind, the key to that search lies in shamanism, as does
the wonder, fear, and yearning we feel toward that unknown world. It is universal
and primitive, and thus not restricted to the Korean people alone. In the West, there
may be no sorcerers referred to as shamans, but ideologies born of the ecstasy
phenomenon, something which could be called a shamanistic complex, are found in
many forms.
However, Korean shamanism is not identical to shamanism in general. Rather it is a
synthesis of this general shamanistic complex and a variety of elements absorbed
over the course of Korean history. It also reflects one side of Korean human
relations.
It clearly plays an active role in the Korean psyche. However, it is not the only factor
involved Shamanism functions in tandem with other religious cultures to create the
Korean people's unique character. During the Three Kingdoms period, the Korean
people's world view was clearly a combination of shamanism and Buddhism, while
from the latter part of the Koryo period through the Choson period, the Confucian
world view dominated. From this time onward, Korean shamanism generally served
as a mechanism by which human resentment brought on by the cultural gap between
shamanism and Confucianism was relieved. In contemporary society, shamanistic
elements have moved beyond the kut to play a role in everyday human and social
relations.
It is difficult to say whether shamanism plays a positive or a negative role in the
Korean psyche. Koreans are no different from other people when it comes to psychic
makeup. The psyche is composed of a number of contrasting elements: the rational
and the emotional the masculine and the feminine, the phenomenal and the
superphenomenal. What Korean shamanic elements do and will continue to do is
activate the latter elements in each of these dichotomies. .
5- Korean Shamanism and its Influences on Traditional Society and the Arts
Kim Tae-gon Professor, Department of Korean Literature Kyunghi University
The Composition of Shamanism

The simplest of shamanistic rituals is pison, (literally 'to rub hands") in which one
says prayers rubbing one's hands together with or without the help of shaman. More
complicated and regular rituals include kut by kangsinmu (charismatic shamans who
receive their calling by spiritual possession) and sesapmu (hereditary shamans).
While the pison is a ritual based on supplicatory words, the kut performed by the
charismatic shaman is an act of imitation through which the shaman identifies herself
(Korean shamans are more often female than male) with a god and assumes the
stature of a deity herself. While the hereditary shaman's kut is also an act of godly
imitation, it differs from that of the charismatic shaman in that it does not actually
deify the shaman since she lacks spiritual charisma. The shaman and the god are
not united as one but rather counterpoint each other in a parallel relationship.
Thus shamanistic rituals can be categorized into three forms: (1) language-centered
rites; (2) rituals centered around an act of identification with a god and (3) rites in
which the shaman acts in parallel with a god Though different in form, all three rites
share a similar ritualistic process divided into the following steps: the choice of the
kut date and the observation of taboos, invocation, the reception of and supplication
to a god; the sending-off of the god and the final observance of taboos.
Since choosing the date and observing various taboos and purification rites prior to
the ceremony serve to prepare the time and space for the invocation, these elements
can be merged with the second step, invocation. Similarly, the observation of taboos
at the end of the ritual might be included in the sending-off of the god as it is also an
act of reverance of the divine being
Principles of Shamanism
The kut is an act that expresses the basic thought pattern of shamanism, which is a
combination of , philosophies embracing gods, the universe, spirits, and the afterlife,
and shamanistic songs.
Shamanistic songs are verbal expressions of shamanistic thoughts chanted at
rituals. At present, some 1,000 songs have been collected and recorded from across
the country.
In addition to ritualistic chants used to purify the ritual site and persons involved in
the kut or to invoke and send off gods, shamanistic songs mainly express the
suppliant's reverence for his, ancestors and desire for many sons, a long life, good
fortune, protection from bad luck, healing, and a good afterlife. According to these
supplicant songs, the ideal human life is one in which one comes to this life to
succeed his ancestors, lives a long life blessed with many earthly goods, good
health, and no misfortune, and, when one's life in this world is over, moves on to the
other world and leads a good life there for ever after.
In short, it shamanistic ritual is an expression of man's aspiration for abundance,
strength, and eternal life over poverty, weakness, and death. The shamanistic logic
of reversal - that is the concept of transforming the definite to the indefinite, delimited
reality to unlimited eternity, death to life, and nothing to something - is beyond the
reason of modern man, who would dismiss it as unreasonable and unrealistic.
While modern man trusts phenomena of the physical world only, a shamanist,
equipped with a multi-dimensional view of existence, accepts both the natural and
the supernatural worlds and places greater importance on the latter.
The frame of mind that embraces both worlds stems from the arche-pattern
philosophy of shamanism in which all beings of the universe originate from chaos,
the non-spatial non-temporal state of confusion and disorder that preceded the
emergence of the cosmos, that is, the spatial and temporal state of order. The word
"arche-pattern" thus is a term for the shamanistic thought pattern in search of the
source -- the arche -- of all existence. Although life and death and nothing and
something are diametric opposites separated by an unbridgable chasm when viewed
from modern man's perspective of reason and logic, they share a common origin
coming from chaos prior to the emergence of the cosmos, or the separation of the
cosmos from chaos, when viewed from the point of the shamanistic arche-pattern.
To believe in gods and the existence of spirits is to believe in intangible, eternal
beings beyond the limit of time and space. They belong to the realm of non-spatial,
non-temporal chaos. Shamanism believes that man owes his birth to god, that when
he dies, he returns to the other world in the state of a spirit where he will either
continue to live in immortality or assume a human body and return to this world. The
shamanistic arche-pattern of thoughts makes it possible for man to commute
between the two worlds because this world and the other world are not separated
but rather are still embraced in chaos.
Shamanistic rituals are based on this arche-pattern. They are manifestions of the
eternal circulation of man beyond the limits of the cosmos to the eternal realm of
chaos, where he regains the order of being and returns to the cosmos, and thence
once more to chaos.
The concept of an arche-pattern, however, does not exist in the shamanistic tradition
alone. It is a thought pattern that underlies Korean folk philosophies in general,
including folk beliefs and seasonal customs, oral traditions, folk paintings and arts,
although it is not so evident in these as it is in shamanism.
Shamanism's Influences on Society and the Arts
With its multi-dimensional view embracing both the real but momentary world and
the unreal but eternal world, shamanism appeases man's aspirations for eternal
circulation more effectively than other religions and thus has a much broader appeal.
This belief in the concept of eternal circulation is not simply a religious phenomenon
but rather has made a profound influence on traditional society and the arts in
general.
Shamanism's contributions to and influences on society can be reduced to three
basic points. First, we can view shamanistic rituals as a means of perpetuating social
orthodoxy. A traditional Korean village always has a shrine for its tutelary deity or
deities and holds a community ritual periodically to pray for village welfare and
prosperity. This ritual, tang kut (shrine kut), takes place every year or every three
years depending on the size of the village and its religious fervor. By repeating the
ritual in the same form and manner over hundreds of years and thus passing down
the "pattern" of the life of their ancestors, the villagers reconfirm their sense of
belonging to the community. Thus this ritual serves as the centripetal force that
underpins community unity through the social fluctuations and perpetuates the
traditional mode of life and orthodoxy in that society.
Second, we must note shamanism's contribution to the promotion of psychological
bonds and solidarity within a community. Since the tang kut is a communal event,
the whole village is involved in its preparation. The villagers observe taboos together
and avoid impurities together. For such a community rite, the taboo period is usually
21 days; however, in some coastal and island areas, it can be anywhere from 100
days to a year. Since the villagers share the belief that lax observation of taboos
risks an assault from impurities and invalidates the ritual thus resulting in a poor
harvest or poor catches at sea, epidemics and other misfortunes, the entire
population is united in observing the taboos. They also contribute cash or grain to
the ritual expenses to the best of their ability.
The day after the village kut on the eve of the First Full Moon by the lunar calendar,
the villagers play a game of tug-o-war. The game is usually played between two
neighboring villages, and in some regions pits the men against the women. It is
traditionally believed that the winning side will enjoy a bumper harvest and the loser
a poor harvest, so villagers take the event quite seriously.
The village kut is an essential rallying point for the villagers, promoting community
solidarity and a sense of belonging, by encouraging active involvement by the entire
community in the ritual from its earliest preparational stages such as the observation
of taboos and the contribution of expenses and labor, to the rite itself, and the
ensiling activities, such as the tug-o-war and other games.
Shamanism's third major contribution to society has been its influence on the
development of democracy. The procedures and details of the community kut are
traditionally determined at a village meeting. Villagers meet around the 20th day of
the last month of the lunar year to elect the officiants, estimate expenses, and
discuss how funds will be raised These decisions are reached democratically with
the opinions of every villager reflected in one way or another.
The morning after the kut, villagers meet again at the shaman's house by the shrine
and partake of the foods that were offered on the altar during the kut Expenses are
accounted in detail, the result is posted, and the balance, if any, is put aside for future
community expenses Other important village affairs such as the building of a new
bridge or a dam or the widening of a road are also discussed and settled at these
meetings. The kut meetings are thus forums that promote democracy in traditional
society.
Shamanism has had a great influence on the performing arts such as folk music,
drama, dance and literature, especially m the genre of oral tradition and folklore.
In fact, one could say shamanistic rituals are an aggregate form of various folk arts.
The kut is composed of music, dance and drama from start to finish. The shaman
sings and dances supplicatory messages and performs an extemporaneous drama,
alternately enacting godly behaviors and supplicatory gestures. While it would be
difficult to differentiate each element of music, dance and drama from the kut as an
independent artistic genre, one can assume that the ritual is the parent body from
which these art forms developed.
Shamanism holds an important place in the history of the Korean arts because it has
been played a role in the development of almost all art forms. Paintings of
shamanism's many gods were the first of religious paintings of Korea just as
shamanistic sculptures were the predecessors for subsequent sculptural genre.
Paper flowers, lanterns and boats used in the kut promoted the development of
papercrafts, and the ritual costumes worn by shamans are an excellent source of
information for the study of sartorial development in Korea
The pom kut, a tiger mask dance drama included in the pyolsin kut held in some
coastal areas of the Yongnam region, is for all intents and purposes a full-fledged
religious drama. The masks employed in the t'al nori, or the masked dance and
drama, are also related with shamanism
The t'al nori was traditionally played after a village kut during the New Year season.
The performances held around the First Full Moon in T'ongyong, Kosong, Suyong
and Tongnae are believed to have originally been performed following the
community kut on the eve of the First Full Moon. Inasmuch as the community kut is
a celebration of the new year, the performance of the t'al nori in the "chaotic"
transitional period between the old and new years is quite pertinent especially
because the t'al or the masks symbolize shaman spirits. Thus masked dance drama
is not simply a recreational program for the holiday season but also embodies the
idea of universal circulation in which an old world ends and a new one begins.
Nong-ak, or farmer's music, is closely linked to shamanistic rituals. The musical
instruments used in nong-ak, such as kkwaenggari (small gong), ching (gong), puk
(drum), chango (hour-glass drum), hojok (wooden oboe), and sogo (small drum) ,
are indispensable in the chisinpalpki, one of the New Year celebration programs in
which the kut players and musicians dance throughout the village visiting every
house to appease the earth god (chisin). Shamanism has done much to promote
nong-ak as the farmers' band plays an important role in the village kut and other
shamanistic events.
Shamanism has made a comparable contribution to the development of dance as
well since dance is a natural part of any shamanistic ritual, especially when it is the
exuberant farmers music.
One can also think of the changsungje, another New Year celebration held to erect
guardian spirit posts (changsung) at the entrance of the village, as shamanism's
contribution to the development of Korean sculpture. The spirit post is re-erected
during the New Year season in the lunar leap year, which occurs every three years.
Generally carved from a pine tree, the post has a human face with bulging eyes, a
protruding nose, and a ferocious slit of a mouth. Standing sentinel at the entrance of
a village, these grotesque spirit posts have a special place in Korean sculpture.
Shamanism's influence on literature can be traced to the shamanistic songs chanted
during the kut Shamanistic songs have been passed down in the form of epics, lyrics,
drama, and narrations. Shamanistic epics deal with shamanistic mythology, from
which most of Korean mythology is derived. They are also the starting point for
Koreas oral tradition.
A shamanistic epic depicts the life of a hero or protagonist in a biographical format
composed of three parts - the hero's birth, deeds, and death. This biographical
structure is repeated continuously in Korea's foundation myths, legends, ancient
novels, new novels, and modern novels.
Shamanistic epics are believed to have provided a platform for the development of
a broad oral tradition including folklore and pansori, a dramatic one-person opera.
P'ansori is especially noteworthy as its origins lie in shamanism, and it later
developed into the ancient novel form
A study of some 1.000 shamanistic songs supports the deduction that they began
as religious myths of an epic style but later developed into narrative, lyrical and
dramatic songs as the result of the elimination of epic elements in the course of oral
transmission. On the other hand, it can also be assumed that, with the loss of the
epic theme, the mythical religious motif was revived in a lyrical style and further
developed into a narrative style. This narrative style can, in turn, be seen as a
transitional mode developed in the process of restoring the mythological epic style.
What is unique about each of these styles? Shamanistic mythology of the epic mode
centers around an individual god as its hero and features an objective portrayal of
his life: 1) his birth and growth; 2) his achievements and service to society; and 3)
his death and enshrinement as a god This genre is in short a three-part biography
of a shaman god.
Lyrical songs, on the other hand, have neither a dramatic story line nor heroes. They
are arbitrary prayers dealing with everyday needs and wishes that a shaman
addresses to a god on behalf of humans. Most of the shamanistic songs extant today
belong to this type.
A shamanistic narrative has no hero, and although it sometimes has a plot, it
generally lacks consistency and objectivity. It is usually a statement of facts about
the universe and human relationships, a shaman's narration to a god about the
wishes of the humans, or a narration to the humans about the god's thoughts and
judgments. The narration of a god's message is best exemplified by a charismatic
shamans oracle, or kongsu, in which the shaman claims the spirit of the dead speaks
through her. However, kongsu cannot be classified as a separate genre of
shamanistic song. Narratives of the second type, in which man's needs and wishes
are relayed to the god is often confused with lyrical shamanistic songs. However,
they should be differentiated because these narratives are meant to inform the god
of human situations and are not actual prayers
Some shamanistic songs are dramatic with consistent plot development. This genre
can be divided into two categories: songs with dialogues for individual players; and
songs with dialogues adapted from a plot by the shaman during her kut performance
Neither, however, can be considered as an independent drama since in the first case
the song is often contained in shaman epics and- in the second case the song is
more a spontaneous narrative in which the shaman relies heavily on her own
resourcefulness than a consistent plot or development of events.
Shamanistic songs are a form of primitive literature with a mosaic of styles that are
still in the process of developing into independent literary genres. For this reason,
we cannot apply the same literary standards we use to analyze modern literary genre
with fully established forms.

In summary, shamanism constitutes an effort by humanity to acheive its aspirations

through the kut a shamanistic ritual based on a philosophy of eternal circulation in
which poverty can be transformed to wealth, illness to health, a short life to a long
life, unhappiness to happiness, and so on. This eternal circulation is in turn based
on the shamanistic arche-pattern, a multi-dimensional view of the universe in which
chaos is thought to have reigned prior to the emergence of the spatial and temporal
order of the cosmos
The arche-pattern philosophy and the shaman ritual are closely interrelated. When
the kut is a community ritual, it serves the social function of promoting solidarity and
perpetuating village orthodoxy. When it is a simulation of divine behavior, it is a
conglomeration of various arts, from which individual genres such as dance, drama,
music and literature have developed.
This arche-pattern philosophy has formed a religion by envisioning the
transcendence of time and space by gods, and shamanistic rituals have provided an
impetus for the development of a wide range of artistic genres. This is why I believe
the shamanistic arche-pattern clearly deserves closer study as the driving force not
only of a religion and the arts, but, more broadly, of civilization itself. .
6-The Implements and Costumes of the Shaman
Kim Kwang-on Professor of Folklore & Director of Inha University Museum

The shaman (mudang) flings her folding fan open.

"What can we stupid humans possibly understand?" she cries. "We may eat rice with
spoons, but we're no better than dogs or Pigs. Please forgive us and accept our
humble offering; We already owe you so much, but please grace us with more of
your... "
The villagers rub their palms together, bowing over and over. Only then does the
enraged general, embodied in the shaman, relent and bestow good fortune on them.
The above is the third scene (kori) of a traditional 12-scene community rite (sansang
kut) In this scene the village guardian deity; represented by Ch'oi Yong, a famous
general from the late Koryo dynasty (918-1392), is invited to the ritual site. The
shaman dons an indigo coat and colored horsehair hat worn cocked to one side, a
costume modeled after traditional military uniforms, and carries a falchion in one
hand and a three-pronged spear in the other. At various points during the kut she
wields these tools proudly to reflect the dignity of the spirit that inhabits her. The
villagers hold their breath in awe, as if the ferocious general has really come back to
life.
The falchion, or ch'ongnyongdo, has a 50cm long curved blade and a 70cm long
wooden handle. The three prongs of the trident, or samjich'ang, are each
approximately 30cm in length and are connected to a wooden handle about 80cm
long. when in a state of ecstasy, the shaman stands her trident upright on a flat spot
at the ritual site with a whole pig's or cow's head balanced on top of it if the trident
stands erect, it is considered proof that the shaman is truly possessed and the deity
is partaking in the rite.
The shaman's blue coat, namch'ollik, was worn by military officials of the third rank
or higher during the Choson period The coat has a straight neckline and is pleated
around the waist. The sleeves are long enough to touch the ground and have white
bands along their edges. Colored horsehair hats were also part of the military outfits
of the Choson era.
A folding fan is an important multipurpose prop for all shamans. The fans are named
for the colorful paintings that usually decorate them. For example, there is the
sambul-son (Three Buddhas Fan), the ch'ilsong-son (Seven Stars Fan), and the
irwol-son (Fan with the Sun and the Moon).
But who is this General Ch'oi Yong so widely worshipped as a deity in Korean
shamanism? A famous military officer known for his moral character, Ch'oi served
as commander-in-chief of the Koryo army in the late 14th century. He met a tragic
death, however, at the hands of his deputy commander, Yl Song-gye, during the
Koryo's campaign against Ming China in 1388. Yi then turned his troops against the
Koryo king and staged a coup d'etat to found the Choson Kingdom (1392-1910).
Ch'oi has been revered by Koreans over the centuries for his bra very in battle and
undaunted loyalty to the Koryo court. He was also a man of rare integrity, setting a
model for the honest official Along with General Im Kyong-op of 17th century
Choson, Ch'oi is one of the most widely worshiped figures in Korean shamanism,
seen as a benevolent god who can dispel evil spirits and bring happiness to people.
In view of General Ch'oi's reputation as a great military leader and loyal subject, it
may seem strange that he should complain, through the vehicle of a shaman, about
the food offered to him during a kut However, this simple fact reveals a fundamental
characteristic of Korean shamanism as well as of the Korean people's outlook on life
in general: for Koreans, the world of the spirits is governed by the same rules as the
human world. There is even an old saying: 'Spirits will pay for the food they eat' This
may also indicate that, in the old days, food was so scarce that people believed even
a man as great as General Ch'oi could be moved to grant his blessing if offered
opulent sacrifices.
Fodder cutters, or chaktu, are one of the most important tools used by shamans to
demonstrate the mysterious power of the spirits that they embody. A pair of iron
blades, each about 80cm long,are placed parallel to each other, about 20cm apart.
Twice I've witnessed shamans dancing barefoot atop these razor-sharp blades
without the slightest injury.
The preparation for this awe-inspiring feat is a meticulous rite in itself. The shaman
sharpens the blades on a whetstone until they are sharp enough to cut through a
tree branch with ease. The sharpening of the blades is an important procedure
because the shamans believe that the spirits will be angered by improper: or lax
sharpening.
The freshly sharpened chaktu are placed upon a precarious platform made of
several stout ceramic waterjugs stacked one on top of another. With people on either
side holding the blades firmly in place, the barefoot shaman mounts the chaktu. The
audience seems to hold their breath in amazement. I closed my eyes, and when I
opened them a few moments later, the shaman was dancing on the blades, swinging
her arms. No one could doubt the existence of supernatural beings at that moment.
Shamans also use sacred swords known as Sink'al in their rites. Sink'al consist of
an iron or bamboo stick about 20cm long, which is draped with straps of white paper:
measuring about 40cm in length. The Sink'al are waved back and forth at the
reginning of the rite to chase away unwanted evil spirits. The swords are used again
at the end of the rite to disperse any minor spirits that may have gathered near the
ritual site.
Other tools of the shaman's calling include the myongdo, round brass plates, and
myongdari, long strips of cloth used in prayers for newborn children.
The myongdo (also known as myongdu) is a convex brass plate, smooth and shiny
on the protruding front and rough on the back, which is engraved with inscriptions of
the sun, the moon, the seven stars, and Sanskrit lettering. At times during the kut
the shaman places the myongdo on a pile of glutinous rice and offers a prayer. She
then lifts up the plate to see how many grains of rice have stuck to the back. An odd
number of grains indicates good fortune while an even number signifies bad luck.
In certain regions of central Korea, myongdo reflect the status of the shaman. A sin
omanni, the senior shaman (literally 'spiritual mother") presents her myongdo to one
of her apprentices (sindal) as a sign of the latter's formal appointment as successor.
Myongdari, or "life strips," are long strips of silk or cotton, about 3m long and 30cm
wide, on which the name, date of birth, and address of a child is written in ink.
As late as 1945, the average Korean life span did not exceed 40 due mainly to the
high infant mortality rate. Many women gave birth at home under insanitary
conditions. Indeed, most Korean women over the age of 70 today gave birth to as
many as ten children, but in many cases more than half of these babies died in
infancy. Thus it is only natural that Koreans of this period resorted to shamanism to
pray for their offspring's health and longevity:
When the parents present the shaman with myongdari. She becomes the baby's
adoptive mother. During regular rites held at her household shrine, the shaman
dances about calling the baby's name as she holds its myongdari in her hand. The
parents pay for this service
The number of myongdari entrusted to a shaman serves as an indicator of her
popularity and the breadth of her influence. Shamans known for their skill are
entrusted with many myongdari, and the strips are handed down to their sindal when
the senior shaman retires. When a shaman moves, she can even sell her myongdari
to another local shaman. The strips are replaced with new fabric after a certain period
of time
Bells are an indispensable tool to the Korean shaman. The spirits are said to be lured
to the ritual site by the sound of the shaman's bells. However, the speed with which
the spirits respond to the ringing depends on the individual shaman's skill Cho
Yongja, a shaman who lived in Yangju County in Kyonggi Province during the 1960s,
was actually called "The Bell Mom," because the spirits responded to her bells as
soon as she picked them up.
Some scholars believe that the name Tan-gun, the legendary founder of the Korean
nation, may be associated with the word tangol or tanggol which means customer or
patron, or a favorite shaman in the vocabulary of Korean shamanism. Some even
contend that the Buddhist monk-historian Iryon (1206-89) invented the name, Tan-
gun, when he transcribed the pure Korean word tangol into Chinese characters in
Samguk yusa(Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms). Samguk yusa is the oldest
reference to Tan-gun existing today.
Tan-gun is believed to have been a shaman ruler of the first kingdom to rule Korea.
In the Cholla region of southern Korea, shamans are still called tanggolor tanggul
Some scholars also contend that the three heavenly treasures brought by Tan-gun's
father when he descended to earth were the sword, myongdo and the bells, three
indispensable tools of today's shamans. Music is an essential part of any
shamanistic rite. It serves to accompany the shaman's songs and dances. In the
central regions of Korea, instrumental music has an important role in the kut
Among the many musical instruments used in shamanistic rituals, the hourglass
drum, or ehanggo, is certainly the most important The ehanggo is used to
accompany the articulation of the deities' blessing while the other instruments remain
silent The ehanggo's unique sound derives from its special construction: one end of
the drum is covered with ox leather while the other is covered with horse leather.
Shamans carry their own gongs (ching) and small cymbals (chegum J but other
instruments such as the p'iri, a short bamboo flute, the chottae, a longer flute, and
the haegum, a two-stringed fiddle, are usually brought by the musicians, known as
chaebi, who are often the husbands of the shamans. These men travel with their
wives to ritual site, perform odd jobs in preparation for the rites, and play the
accompanying music Large rites require several shamans, so the husbands make
up a team of their own. In the rites performed in fishing villages along the East coast,
these musicians are called hwaraeng-i, a terms that hints of a faint connection to
hwarang or "flower knights; young men of aristocratic birth who underwent military
and ideological training to prepare them for serving the Silia Kingdom in war.
In large shamanistic rites, the musical ensemble is made up of six musicians, two
p'iri players and one person to play each of the other four instruments, the haegum,
the chottae, the changgu, and the puk, a small single-barrelled drum. Smaller rites
are generally accompanied by a duet consisting of one p'iri and a haegum, or a trio
of a p'iri, one haegum, and one chottae.
A variety of different implements and materials are used for shamanistic divination.
Coins are one handy device the shaman uses for fortunetelling. First the shaman
reads her prayer, holding seven or nine coins in her hand, and then she throws the
coins on a table to see how many land overlapped. An odd number indicates good
fortune while even numbers are considered unlucky.
This numerical concept holds true for divination using grains of rice as well. A pile of
rice measuring 3 toe and 3 hop (1 toe equals 1.8 liters or 10 hop) is placed on a
table. The shaman reads her prayer, calling out the name, birth date and address of
the person whose fortune is being told, and then the fortune is revealed by counting
the grains of rice scattered around the pile.
Bamboo strips inscribed with signs are also used for fortunetelling. A set of 60 strips,
each measuring O.5cm wide and l2cm long, are kept in a cylindrical container. The
shaman shakes the container as she says her prayer and then selects one strip,
which reveals the fortune of her client
The costumes of the Korean shaman account for much of the visual excitement of
the kut. Shamans from Hwanghae Province 'now in North Korea change their
costumes for nearly every scene In the 12 kori kut Costumes from this region are by
far the most colorful found in Korean shamanism. Shamans from the central region
including the Kyonggi and Ch'ungchong Provinces change costumes to personify
the various deities that appear during the kut Shamans from Cholia Province in the
south, however, wear the simple white chogori (jacket) and ch'ima (skirt), the
traditional dress of Korean women, throughout the kut.
One shaman from Hwanghae Province brought six bags of costumes for a four day
kut held in Inch'on in 1963. I know of no shamanistic tradition in the world that can
compete with that of Hwanghae Province when it comes to colorful costumes
Let us take a brief look at the ritual costumes commonly worn by shamans from the
central district. The basic outfit consists of a long indigo skirt and a light blue jacket,
a traditional dress that could be worn by any ordinary woman. The shaman wears a
coat, known as kugunbok, fashioned after the uniform of a Choson era military
officer, over this dress when she embodies the spirit of an ancient general. The
kugunbok is black and has narrow, red sleeves The back is slit at the center to
facilitate the energetic movements of the shaman when she performs in a trance.
Another traditional military uniform used by the shaman is the chonbok, a sleeveless
blue coat with deep slits at the side and back.
Even more colorful than these military uniforms is the green coat with rainbow
colored sleeves, which is worn during the scene for worshipping the spirit of an
entertainer, or ch'angbusin. This coat is slit up the sides to the armpits, and the
panels in front and back extend only to the knees.
Of all the various headgear worn by Korean shamans, the most ostentatious is the
ponggohi, part of the uniform of ranking military officers during the Choson period
The hat is made of cloud-patterned silk with a bright indigo lining. It is decorated with
colorful tassels and a peacock feather. When a mudang wears this hat cocked
slightly to one side, she personifies the rich sartorial tradition of Korean shamanism
.
7- Korean Shamanism from the Outside
Barbara R. Mintz Administrator Asian Division, University of Maryland

In the not so distant past, you could hear the clang and clamor ringing out from a
neighborhood house even in Seoul. As foreigners, we certainly wondered what was
going on the first time we heard it. When we asked a Korean friend the next day, we
were told, "Oh, it's a mudang Someone must be sick, so they're having a kut" Since
then, I have attended several mudang(shaman) kut as an interested observer.
The first observations are always those of the noise and action. There's the music:
the rattle and thump of drums, the clash of cymbals, the piercing shriek of
woodwinds, all in a brisk, insistent rhythm. Then there's the dance of the shaman
herself: dressed in brightly colored robes, she jumps and twirls, waves her arms up
and down holding an open fan in one hand and a short baton festooned with small
jingling brass bells in the other. At times, she waves a sword and trident or colorful
flags she uses later for fortune telling. She frequently changes costumes - different
robes and hats - depicting which of the many spirits is currently inhabiting her body
and speaking through her.
The next thing one notices is the setting. Whether outdoors, in a private home, in the
Kuksatang (the National Shrine near Tongnipmun in Seoul), or the shaman's own
private shrine, there are low tables loaded with offerings -- sweet rice cakes and
dates; stacks of apples, pears, dried fish; vases of artificial lotus flowers; fragrant
smoke rising from a pot of incense; bowls of makkolli (rice wine), tall white candles
on the center table flanking, most spectacular of all, a whole pig's head, ears and
mouth stuffed with money. Even if the kut occurs outdoors, portraits of various
personages and spirits provide the back drop: the King of the Sea riding his dragon
over the waves, the Spirits of the Seven Stars (the Big Dipper), or, perhaps, Queen
Min herself.
And of course, one can't forget all the participants: the musicians, the mansin, a
polite term for mudang and her helpers' and the suppliant (with her family) rubbing
her hands together, patiently waiting for the shaman to finish a dance and speak to
her in the voice of the spirits.
These sights and sounds strike even the most casual observer. As time went on, I
learned that each kut has a different purpose to heal the sick to bring good fortune
to an individual or family; to help the dead to their rest; that the ritual varies from
province to province; that the music is more complex than foreign ears may realize
at first; and that there are indeed a few male shamans (paksu) in Korea
A kut appeals to the foreign observer first, I think, as a theatrical event -- all the color
and action, but, in fact, the most interesting features lie beneath the surface. For
instance: What is the origin of shamanism in Korea? What is its relation" ship to the
other great religious systems m Korea - Buddhism, Confucianism, Christianity? Why
does a woman (since most shamans are women) become a shaman, especially in
today's Korea? And why do suppliants (almost always female) engage a shaman's
services? Why, indeed, does shamanism continue to survive, in fact, appear to
flourish today?
I'll leave these questions to the scholars who have contributed to this volume, but I
will offer one tale that may be relevant here. I recently was told of an all night vigil at
the bedside of a young man dying of cancer. As they had several times before, a
man and a woman, next door neighbors, came to pray for his recovery and did so
loud and fervently with the assistance of the young man's wife and mother. In the
middle of the night, the mother reported that a spirit appeared to everyone in the
room. A threatening and frightful sight, the spirit was final! y repulsed by their
redoubled prayers. A Christian version of a kut? The young man died a few days
later.
Professor Hwang Rushi has explained the difference between hereditary shamans
(sesupmu) and kangsinmu who receive their calling through possession by a spirit
or deity after experiencing a "spirit sickness," or sinbyong. The hereditary shaman is
quite comprehensible: the mudang has always occupied the lowest rungs of the
Korean social ladder. Born to a shaman family, one would have little choice but to
become a shaman oneself. But what about the possessed shaman? Where does the
"sickness" come from? Some scholars diagnose the shaman as a recovered
neurotic, someone whose personality does not fit the social norm but who
nevertheless finds a useful role to play. In Korea, an intelligent independent,
articulate, somewhat manipulative woman does not fit into the social norm and
sometimes finds herself at odds with the behavior expected of a well-bred woman.
What then to do? Or, rather, since it probably isn't intentional, what happens? She
falls ill and turns, reluctantly, to the spirits for help. She says that she is a shaman
against her will, because she was chosen by the spirits.
As a mudang, she finds both acceptance (albeit at the bottom of the social ladder)
and power. For, as I have said elsewhere, to be successful, she must be sensitive
to her clients' needs, she must be persuasive and convincing. If she isn't she won't
attract or keep clients. A mudang does not advertise; prospective clients learn of her
by word-of-mouth from satisfied customers. To satisfy her clients, the mudang must
understand them and their needs She must of course, be convinced of her calling.
When the spirits speak through her, she can move her clients to laughter or tears. I
have seen a client speaking to her dead mother through a mudang break into tears
when her mother said how much she had been worrying about the family. They fell
into each other's arms weeping.
These clients are nearly always female. Scholars have suggested that although
males in Korea dominate the highly visible social rituals of Confucianism in particular,
shamanism gives women a ritual role, albeit less visible (indeed, sometimes
altogether repressed), but one of some power nevertheless. K woman's role in the
family is to care for its health and welfare. One way to do so is to enlist the services
of a shaman and thereby the influence of powerful spirits to keep the family healthy
and prosperous.
Is this why shamanism survives, even flourishes, today? Its present popularity is at
least partly the result of the general interest in traditional Korean folk and art forms
among college students However, is it possible that, with increased opportunities for
independence and freedom of expression in modern society, a woman who, in the
past,would have fallen ill from "spirit sickness" and become a shaman will instead
find other avenues for her energies? And if Korean women do find ways to enhance
their roles and influence in society (or if men come to share their ritual roles with
women), they may no longer require the services of the shaman and her spirits. If
this happens, shamanism will decline in Korea, and the old spirits may fade a way
as did the Greek gods and goddesses.
On the other hand, the vicissitudes of the human condition may continue to require
someone to alleviate them, someone who can comfort a bereaved family, someone
to soothe the mind of a troubled housewife. In that case, shamanism may never
vanish from the Korean scene.
7- An Interview with Kim Kum-hwa
Yi Sung-nam Acting Assistant Editor The Sisa Journal

"May a shaman be born to your, household!"

That's a Shaman will say when she's really angry. It shows how cruel life can be for
a mudang. When Kim Kum-hwa, 61, acknowledged leader of northern-style ecstatic
shamanism and "living national treasure," dances atop the razor-sharp blades of a
double-edged knife during a kut, she wields the power of the ancient generals, but
things are a lot different when she steps back to earth.
"Over tile years I've suffered a great deal. I've lost loved ones and money. Until
recently I felt as if I'd spent my life all alone hanging on the edge of a cliff. Only now,
as my life is drawing to a close, have I been able to walk on stable ground."
Perhaps this is why Kim cries each time she officiates at a naerim kut, the initiation
ceremony in which a spirits enshrined in the body of a shaman. It breaks her heart
to think of the hardships the newly initiated shaman will go through in his or her
lifetime.
YI: I was deeply moved by the words of the song performed during the naerim kut
when you threw the fan and bells into the outstretched skirts of the newly initiated
shaman The song seemed to epitomize the life of the mudang Could you recite the
words one more time for our readers?
KIM: let's go to be called
let's go to have our lives extended When you help people,
whoever they are,
Love them and help them, even If they've been cruel.
You're going to be called.
Your life will be extended
Take hold of my skirts and come closer to me.
You can overcome your hardships, no matter how trying
Take the just rood, take the good rood, with kindness in your heart.
Over the mountains, across the rivers
Rise when you have fallen
Lie down when you've risen;
When you've fallen again, rise up and then go down one more.
And all the suspicion will disappear. Yon can overcome it.
Accept it, hold it, don't let it go.
Don't ignore it, keep it deep within your heart.
Accept it, and then you must try one more.

YI: What are the symptoms of sinbyong the mystic sickness caused by the descent
of the spirit of a god? How do you know it is sinbyong and not an ordinary sickness?
KIM: It starts as a lingering illness that can't be diagnosed or treated at a hospital. It
can go on for months and, in some cases, as long as 30 or 40 years. The parent's
face turns a strange blackish-blue color, and 'they start jabbering. They grow weaker
and weaker and start hallucinating and hearing voices. In extreme cases, they run
away from home and wander In the mountains. Sometimes when they're in a
hallucinatory state, they go searching for shamanistic implements like the knives and
bells we use in kut. Their family tries all sorts of treatments, but in the end nothing
works, so they go to a fortuneteller. That's when they're given the divination sign. A
person who has caught sinbyong has no choice but to become a shaman. It's either
that or spend the rest of your life sick and hallucinating. The sickness is cured if you
accept your fate and take part in the naerim kut. The unique thing about sinbyong is
that there is no medical cure.
YI: Some scholars have advanced the theory that women are more likely to become
shamans, especially uneducated women from Impoverished family backgrounds.
Generally speaking, what Kind of people are struck by sinbyong?
KIM: Sinbyong can hit anyone, young or old, rich or poor. It is true that women who
suffer from the psychological pain of economic hardship and family difficulties are
most likely to contract sinbyong but there are exceptional cases of upper class
women, such as Ch'ae Hui-a, a graduate of Kyonggi Girls High School and the Music
College of Seoul National University, who underwent the noerim kut in June 1981
after contracting sinbyong while she was studying ethnic dance at UCLA and Kim
Kyong-nan, a well conducated woman who graduated from Kyonggi Girls High
School and attended the Art College at Seoul National University.
YI: I witnessed a naerim kut being performed on a 42 year-old housewife in
Ch'onmasan two years ago. Can you tell us her story?
KIM: That woman was struck by a mysterious illness, and while she was sick, many
of her closet relatives, including her mother, older brother, husband and younger
brother died. The strange thing was she rouldon't help laughing even at her younger
brother's funeral. This caused her a great deal of shame. She wasn't able to walk for
a long time after the illness spread to her legs, but during the naerim kut, she spent
the whole day dancing and even completed the chaku kori (a dance performed on a
double-edged knife)
Yl: I remember the audience was amazed when the woman was possessed
suddenly by the spirit of the late president Pak Chong-hui. She collapsed as if she
had been shot and then began speaking in Pak's voice. How would you interpret
this?
KIM: It Is very rare for this kind of spirit to descend during a kut rd have to say this
was a bad omen, considering the fact that President Pak died an unhappy death
YI: How many times have you performed the naerim kut? Did all the newly initiated
go on to become shamans?
KIM: I've performed more than 20 naerim kut. I've established a master-disclple
relationship with each one of the newly initiated, but they haven't all become
shamans, and I wouldn't want them to. In my view, the purpose of the naerim Rut is
to treat people suffering from sinbyong and help them recover their health and a
happy family life. Why should they all become shamans? When I perform a naerim
kut I make a clear distinction between those I plan to cultivate as disciples and those
I want to simply treat and return to a normalllfe.
YI: What do you teach your disciples?
KIM: There are 24 courses. They look similar but actually each has its own unique
elements, For example, in some cases, there is theatrical and other parts are very
fun-loving. To the average person, it looks like the shaman Is just dancing around a
plate of rice-cakes in the p'ungoche, the ritual for a bountiful catch in a fishing
community, but actually the rite Is an advanced art form incorporating many different
elements. The apprentice shamans must learn all these elements : how to arrange
the offering on the alter, how to cook the food, the use of the various implements,
the rules governing the performance of the Rut. etc. It is the elder shaman's
responsibility to teach these things but the frustrating thing is we don't have the
facilities to teach them well. We have no choice but to use our performances at
festivals or in actual kut as demonstrations or to try to make due In our own homes
or at local community centers. Actually, the best way to teach is by performing the
kut, but it bothers the neighbors
YI: It used to be that Korean teachers would beat their students on the calves with a
bamboo rod when they didn't behave. Is that practice used today?
KIM: What student would put up with that nowadays? You have to be careful
because if you say something the student doesn't like, they often quit in a huff. You
can't scold students In this day and age. So I try to persuade them of the value of
my teachings and admonish them to do the best they can
YI: I've heard that the male musicians who perform in the kut cannot become
shamans even if they want to. However, there are male shamans known as paksu.
How do these paksu become shamans?
KIM: Some men will do anything to avoid becoming a paksu. I know of one man
struck by sinbyong who went all the way to Taiwan to study divination, Just to avoid
his calling But In the end, he couldnt overcome his illness and had to undergo the
naerim but I feel especially bad when I perform a noerim but on a man. There are so
many fenllnlne aspects to the but for example, performing In a skirt, etc, that I can't
stand to make the men go through the same thing as the women.
YI: Before you were recognized as a major shaman (mansin), you must have had a
difficult time. How did you come to be a shaman?
KIM: My maternal grandmother was a famous shaman back In my hometown of
Ongjin County in Hwanghae Province, but she didn't like me so she never let me get
near a but When I was 11, I was struck a lingering illness but our family
circumstances prevented me from receiving hospital treatment I was married at 13,
but my husband deserted me when I was 15. My illness grew more severe from that
point Every time I saw a knife I felt the urge to grab hold of It Finally, my grandmother
performed a noerim but for me, and my illness was cured instantly. I married again
at the age of 25 and had a son, but my husband said he couldn't live with a shaman
and left me for another woman. Since I was a shaman, I had no choice but to give
him up. I lived from day to day on relief packages distributed by the government.
YI: What kind of training did you receive as a shaman?
KIM: After the naerim kut, I spent three years studying the but with An Mansin of
Haenam and Kwon Mansin who had performed kut in my hometown. I started by
learning how to fold their costumes and shaking the bells. During the kut, I would
assist my teachers and memorize the songs. The Korean War broke out just as I
was beginning to make a name for myself In the Haeju region of Hwanghae
Province, so I came to Inchon with my family.
YI: When did you first perform a naerim kut for someone else?
KIM: I performed one for a 14 year-old cousin who contracted sinbyong when I was
nineteen years-old.
YI: How does society perceive the shaman?
KIM: During the height of the Saemaul (New Community)Movement promoted by
President Pak Chong-hui, the public perception of the shaman and the but was
terrible. One of the Movement's favorite slogans was 'Stamp out superstition.'
Traditional shrines were destroyed all over the country so we had no choice but to
perform but in private homes. The police would drag the shamans away, and
scavengers would rip the leather off our drums. People would come knocking on our
doors, crying, 'Stamp out superstition!' and then they'd take our equipment and burn
It I don't know how many times they dragged me away.'
YI: Your neighbors couldn't have been too happy.
KIM: We didn't want to bother our neighbors so we always asked for their
understanding. Just in case I got a little noisy. Some people understood but others
YI: I imagine there was a lot of friction from the Christian community. How do they
perceive the shaman?
KIM: It's changed quite a bit recently, but back then everyone despised the shaman
and would report us to the police at the drop of a hat Since the government had
labeled shamanism a superstition very few people were interested ill holding a but
And all the while we had families to feed and raise. I tried my hand at business
several times but I always failed.
YI: When did the publics attitude toward shamanism begin to change?
KIM: It began when the p'ungoche was entered in the National Folk Arts Contest in
1966. That was the first time the but was recognized as an art form. Before that
everyone thought it was simply a matter of making some rice-cakes, catching a pig.
and dancing around with a drum. At the time, I felt it was a great honor to be allowed
up on the stage, so naturally I was amazed when I won the prize for an individual
performance. And I'll never forget how I felt that day in February 1984 when the
p'ungoche was designated an Intangible National Cultural Property and I was named
the official demonstrator of the kut. Masked dance and traditional vocal music had
been recognized long before, so I had always been frustrated by the neglect of
shamanistic art forms.
YI: What is the difference between the p'ungoche and the paeyonsin kut (the Rite for
the Fishing Boat Spirit)?
KIM: The p'ungoche is a community rite, which appeals to the gods for a bountiful
catch, and the paeyonsin but is a rite performed by the captain of a boat asking for
a safe journey. By performing a rite on the fishing boats themselves, the people in a
fishing village acquire a sense of confidence and the courage to survive, even if they
run into a typhoon or other problems at sea. It helps them relax and thus prevents
accidents.
YI: You performed the chaktu kori in the United States in 1982 on the occasion of
the 100th anniversary of Korean-American relations. Did that constitute Korean
government recognition of the kut as an art form?
KIM: Originally, the Smithsonian Institution invited Korea to send a kut performer,
but there were a lot of complaints here in Korea. People thought it would disgrace
the nation. The Korean organizing Committee withdrew the but from the Centennial
program, but the Smithsonian insisted it be Included. So we simply changed the
name from mudang but (shamans ritual) to the Cholmul Danre
YI: The Hwanghae naerim kut is especially famous for the pisugori, a unique form of
the chaktu kori in which the knife-riding general enters the body of the shaman and
dances with the double-edged chopper. Can you give us a brief explanation of this
portion of the kut?
KIM: The alter consists of a seven-layer tower constructed from a steel drum,
wooden dough boards, a small table, a pine board, a water pitcher and a brass bowl
with the chaktu, a double-edged knife on the very top. The shaman presses the
razor-sharp blades of the knife against her arms and legs and her tongue and inside
her cheeks. There aren't any cuts, just impressions where the blades have been
pressed against her skin. Then she climbs up onto the blades and dances. It's at that
point that she delivers the gods' messages to the audience. The apprentice shamans
do exactly as the head shaman does.
YI: It is said that the shaman embodies the spirit of military generals, such as Ch'oi
Yong (1316-1388, one of the great generals of the Koryo Kingdom), Yi Sun.sin(1545-
1598, a Choson era admiral who fought the Japanese invaders) or Im Kyong-om
(1594-1646, a Choson era admiral who fought the Manchus), when she is up on the
knife blades. Why is that? Why not the spirit of a king?
KIM: The king ruled the state, but his servants, the generals, were the ones who
wielded the actual power. For example, Ch'ol Yong fought gallantly for his kingdom
and country but ultimately died a unjust death. When a shaman is up on those
blades, she wields the power of the great generals against all misfortune and evil
spirits.
YI: It was hard to watch the shaman run those blades across her arms and press it
against her tongue. I know this is a dumb question, but have you ever tried that when
you weren't performing a kut?
KIM: You can't do it at any other time.
YI: Experienced tight rope walkers say the rope actually looks quite wide after they've
trained for a long time. What about the knife blades? Do they look sharp during a
kut?
KIM: Of course. They'll slice a cucumber or pear in half at the drop of a hat. The gods
make sure the blades are sharp.
YI: Aren't you afraid during the chaktu kori?
KIM: After dancing around for a while, I can't tell if it's me moving or the blades
themselves. You're not conscious of what you're doing. There are times when I'll
afraid, usually when I'm ill at ease or frustrated.
YI: Have you ever been hurt during the chaktu kori?
KIM: Three times altogether. It was because of contamination.
YI: What kind of contamination?
KIM: The gods like purity. If your hands are dirty when you're preparing food, or if
spit gets in the food, it causes impurities. And if a person with evil thoughts or
someone who has witnessed a death recently comes to a kut, it causes
contamination.
YI: Could you describe the occasions when you experienced such contamination
during a kut?
KIM: Once when I was performing the chaktu kori at the age of 19, a person carrying
a dead child walked past. I didn't know this, but when I climbed up on the blades, I
could feel them slicing my feet Another time I was performing a but on Dokchokto
Island off of Kyonggi Province. The owner of the house In which I was performing
was having an affair, so his wife was upset and cried as she prepared the food. This
defiled the site. The third time was when the knife blades weren't sharpened
properly. There is a special process for sharpening the blades, but on that occasion
someone flung the door open and started nagging the knife sharpener. This
interruption contaminated the Rut.
YI: What do you do when that happens?
KIM: You sense something isn't right so you have to shout "Contamination,
contamination,' before you get down off the knife blades. Otherwise you can be badly
hurt.
YI: At one point during the naerim kut the shaman drinks the blood of a freshly
slaughtered pig. The very thought of it disgusts me. Do you realize what you're doing
at that point of the ceremony?
KIM: At that point, we don't think of it as a dirty thing but no one would drink it at any
other time!
YI: I've heard that you always help people less fortunate than yourself, and that most
of your income goes to charities. Why is that?
KIM: 'I'hings were really bad during the Korean War when my family escaped to the
South and back at the height of the Saemaul. Movement I had to make do on bean
sprout porridge, but I always tried to help others out by buying them a pound of meat
now and then. Helping others can bring you happiness even open you have nothing
YI: What has been the hardest thing for you to endure?
KIM: The worst thing has been the way people scorn me for being a, shaman. I've
made it a point not to attend happy occasions like weddings or birthday celebrations
because people think a shaman brings bad luck.
YI: What kind of advice do you give your disciples?
KIM: I try to teach them to be honest and sincere, but I'm often disappointed because
many young people turn their hicks on me as soon as they've received the naerim
kut They don't want to take the time to perfect their skills and become a true shaman.
In the old days, the relationship between a master shaman and his or her disciples
was like the relation between parents and their children, but since the Korean War,
things have changed. Everyone wants to keep moving and get things over with as
quickly as possible. Sometimes it seems like they're trying to exploit my reputation,
just so they can say, 'I received the naerim kut from Kim Kum-hwa.' And then there
are the people who've become Interested In the kut after seeing the news reports
about the movie actress, Kim JI-m!, receiving the naerim Rut
YI: The kut is relatively small in scale compared to Christian or Buddhist services.
As a result, the sense of wonder or miracle experienced during the kut itself doesn't
seem to last long. 'Considering shamanism's relative lack of evangelical power, what
do you see as the future direction of the belief in Korea?
KIM: Actually, I'm concerned about that. The government has no policy to preserve
the kut, but I'm thankful they've designated It an 'important Intangible cultural
property.' The various Christian organizations are wrong to protest the Inclusion of
kut in overseas cultural tours, which already include masked dance and pansori. We
haven't ever objected to Christian or Buddhist events, have we? Actually, those
religions aren't even Indigenous to Korea, so why are they making such a big deal
about shamanism, a religion rooted In Korea's own culture? I hope that the kut will
be recognized as an art farm.
YI: However, if we look at the kut as a religion, rather than an art form, it is clear that
people actually fear it. It seems this is the reason behind the difficulties you've had
propagating the belief.
KIM: There's nothing to be afraid of. Shamanism was the religion of our grandparents
long before these other religions were introduced from abroad. By believing In
shamanism, we can unite as one, and isn't that the road to the unification of Korea?
8- One American's Spiritual Insights
Edward R.Canda Assistant Professor of Social Work Associate of the Center for East
Asian Studies University of Kansas

My vantage on Korean shamanism is that of an American of European ancestry who

is often disenchanted with the prevalent secular materialism and consumerism of his
culture of origin. Excessive materialism and consumerism have promoted the
unrestricted exploitation of the natural ecology; leading to now familiar catastrophic
effects, such as holes in the ozone layer. Korean shatnanism suggests an important
alternative view: human beings have a responsibility to live in harmony with the
plants, animals, spirits, ancestors, and other spiritual powers of the earth, the sky,
and the world below.
I lived in Korea for the first time from March 1976 to May 1977 as a Fulbright-
sponsored anthropology student and Graduate Fellow of East Asian Philosophy at
Sung Kyun Kwan University in Seoul. This was a critical formative period for me, my
first international experience after graduating from college, an opportunity for both
study and pilgrimage. I was already disillusioned with the materialism and secularism
of Western industrial society and eager to explore Korean Confucianism, Buddhism,
and shamanism.
Life in the megalopolis of Seoul quickly shocked me out of any naive assumptions
about liberating myself from 'Western industrialism' by simply traveling to the other
side of the world. Initially, I was overwhelmed by the crowding and rapid pace of life
and felt the need to journey for extended periods to the countryside.
My first personal encounter with a shaman occurred during such a trip to Kyongsan
near Taegu. A Korean friend introduced me to his relative, a practicing mudang who
graciously received us in her home. Although I privately considered my trip a
personal pilgrimage, I came prepared with a set of questions intended to elucidate
the content and structure of the shaman's beliefs and practices, so I could place
them in an erudite (but secular and academic) frame of analysis. However, she
quickly pierced my facade of academic objectivity.
Before she would respond to my questions, she asked me to answer one of hers:
'When you go walking in the mountains, what do you experience?'
I was stunned for a moment. She required me to stop thinking about shamanism and
start experiencing it. I explained what I experienced during many hours spent
trekking through the mid-western American woodlands of my home, how I felt the
creatures and natural forces of the woods are living, sacred beings who have much
to teach those who pay attention. That was one of the few times I had said this to
anyone, since most of my American peers and elders might have thought I was
peculiar, if not mentally unbalanced. But I felt reassured by the shaman, because
her question implied that it was acceptable, even desirable, to experience such
things. She shook me out of my timidity and academic abstractions and returned me
to the charity of direct experience.
The mudang apparently satisfied with my answer, then recounted her own
relationship with the mountain spirit (sansin). For her, the mountain spirit was not
merely a concept or symbol but rather a living entity with superior power and wisdom.
Her account was a challenge - if someone is to understand her experience, they
must pursue the mountain spirit through direct experience.
During this brief encounter, the shaman imparted a message that has guided me
ever since - spiritual questions and direct experiential answers about the nature of
reality are more significant than academic inquiries and speculation, (or they provide
guidance in the conduct of life.
During my first few months in Korea, it became clear I could not rely on occasional
trips to the countryside for personal renewal for my research on shamanism. I
needed sources of traditional insight in Seoul. My Confucian mentors at Sung Kyun
Kwan University introduced me to places of Confucian and Buddhist wisdom in the
capital, but I had not yet encountered shamanism there. I was particularly interested
in exploring Korean shamanistic percussion performance because I felt it could
provide a creative outlet for the energy that had built up within me as I tried to remain
polite and on guard in an unfamiliar cultural environment. A string of inquiries brought
me in contact with Kim Byong-sup, a master of nong-ak, farmers' music traditionally
performed -for planting and harvesting rites, the blessing of new homes, exorcisms,
military marches, and entertainment. I visited Kim's studio in Seoul where the master
and his American student of several years demonstrated a highly complex version
of changgo nori, a dance performed by a drummer playing an hourglass-shaped
drum (changgo). The two men danced in tandem, like mirror images, weaving
patterns around the room while playing intricate rhythms on their drums. I felt
overcome by the power and beauty of the performance. Master Kim accepted me as
his student, and I studied for the remaining year of my visit. This provided me with
my most thorough experiential exposure to Korean shamanism.
Master Kim and I didn't speak much of each other's languages, and he used a
traditional teaching style, asking me to imitate his movements until I perfected each
action. This was ideal for me because it forced me to practice the Kyongsan
shaman's principle of learning by direct experience.
The master explained very little to me; I learned about the traditional meanings of
the performance in a cognitive w_ mostly from other people, and much through
spiritual osmosis from my teacher. After I had learned to play sufficiently well, we
played together with a rapport so deep it is best described by the Korean expression
isimchonsim, or "transfer from mind to mind" It was an incomparable feelivg of
exhilaration, as if I were flying through the air as I danced Perhaps this is the state
of mind shamans describe as sinmyong or spiritual ecstasy.
At first, the musical rhythms and body movements were entirely alien to my cultural
conditioning. I felt like I had to rewire my nervous system, to open myself to absorb
the pulse and sway of the performance, letting the powerful Impact of sound and
movement reconstruct my culturally ingrained habits of perception and action.
The performance also forced me to integrate all aspects of myself, an enormous
task. My mind had to become quiet, dear, and attentive, my body strong,
coordinated, and highly energized, my soul expansive and unfettered Divisions
between mind, body, and soul had to disappear in the spontaneity of each moment
of the performance. Once these qualities were achieved, the performance flowed
effortlessly, the master and I in complete synchrony. Then, new kinds of spiritual
awareness opened up for me. The environment was alive with spirit, and the drums
and gongs called out with their own voices.
I asked my American nong-ak friend about the voices I heard calling from the
chanpgo, kkwaenggwari (small gong), and ching(large gong), and he said I wasn't
the only one to experience such things. When I asked Master Kim about this, he
responded in his usual way, brief and to the point 'Yes, of course these voices are
calling. What you see and hear is not unusual Be aware of it, but don't be distracted
if you are distracted by these happenings, you will lose the flow of your performance.'
Truly; when I allowed myself to become distracted by these seemingly magical
events, my internal intention and rapport with the performance were interrupted, and
I made mistakes. I learned that the ecstatic trance had to integrate a clear awareness
of the performance with a sense of being carried away by its momentum, as if
possessed by it.
Master Kim's teaching helped me experience directly the joy and exhilaration that
comes from integrating all one's faculties while in deep rapport with the surrounding
world This is an experience that, while rich in wonderful sensation, carries one
beyond ordinary sensibilities into a transcendental awareness of everything in unity.
During my stay in Seoul, a fellow Fulbrighter informed me of a three day kut being
performed in honor of Taegam, the Great Overseer, the principle guiding spirit of the
presiding mudang. A shrine had been set up in the shaman's house. Paintings of
spirit entities adorned the length of one wall, and copious offerings of food, money,
and colorful decorations were displayed on the altar. A row of musicians sat to one
side, playing drums, gongs, and wind and string instruments. they established a
baseline rhythm, gradually building to a crescendo while the shaman danced. The
tempo subsided when the shaman conversed with the spirits, sang, or delivered
messages from the spirits to the participants
The intensity of the ritual increased as a paksu, a male shaman, performed a series
of dances with knives, swords, tridents, and colored flags. As the rhythm quickened,
the shaman became hyper-animated, his eyes rolling back in their sockets and his
limbs jerking with the music. After the dances, he hoisted a large pig carcass onto
his back and rushed through the house, scattering participants in his wake.
His spirit-compelled behavior contrasted sharply with the decorum and emotional
restraint common to daily Korean behavior, especially that of the scholars with whom
spent most my time, and yet his chaotic behavior had its own meaning and purpose
within the context of the ceremony, testifying to the presence and power of the spirits.
Indeed, the sense of chaos was counterbalanced by the shaman's discipline.
Throughout his frenzied dance, the shaman never lost his balance, and the
participants seemed confident in his precision since they never retreated, even when
his blades drew near.
The next day a shrine for the spirits was set up near the entrance to the courtyard
where Taegam lived. The presiding mudang did a series of knife dances, but in a
slower, more reserved, and imperious fashion than the paksu. During her last knife
dance, she put fodder chopping knives (chaktu) into her mouth, pressing them into
her cheeks and running her tongue along their sharp edges, all without a cut. Finally
she placed the chaktu on a six foot, tall tower constructed of tables and barrels and
climbed to the top, symbolically ascending to the sky-world of the spirits. She danced
atop the blades for an hour, and then returned to the ground where she delivered
divinatory messages to the participants, providing them with answers to troublesome
personal questions.
The mudang channelled the awesome power of the spirits into a disciplined
performance of balance, grace, and apparent. mastery of ordinary mortal
vulnerability. She brought to fruition the promise embodied in the paksu's intense
performance chaos balanced with order generates creativity.
My memory of this kut has helped me be aware of the potential for resolution,
transformation, and spiritual growth, even in the midst of crisis, whether in personal
or community life. Discipline, clarity, perseverance, and balance are personal
qualities suited both for response to life crises and ritually induced chaos.
From one approach, Ma-i Mountain in North Cholla Province resembles a pair of
horse ears. As I walked into the valley nestled between the two peaks, I heard the
reverberations of shamans' gongs. Many miraculous stories and religious activities
in the Buddhist Confucian, and shamanic traditions are associated with this place.
I was most impressed with the collection of rock towers dedicated as a. prayer for
the relief of human suffering, which was so intense during the Korean War. The
towers, ranging in height from several feet to approximately 50 feet, were created in
the 1950s by a Buddhist monk named Yi Gap-lyong. According to the local people,
Hermit Yi had been called to Ma-i Mountain by visions of the mountain Spirit (sansin)
who instructed him to build the towers there with rocks gathered from many different
places. I took him more than ten years to bllild the towers since he meditated over
each stone to discern its um or yang (feminine or masculine) energy quality in order
to maintain a balanced state of energy in each structure. The towers are either
columnar (phallic) or conic (breast-like), reflecting the notion that all things, while
containing both yang and um energy, have a predominant quality of either One or
the other. Hermit Yi's labor helped me realize that the shamanic view is a reversal of
the secular materialist industrial view. While secularism perceives a mountain as
nothing more than inanimate rocks and minerals, shamanism perceives a mountain
as a living sacred being While secularism believes that one may destroy a mountain
with impunity, shamanism believes that when the spirit of a mountain gives an order,
the human must obey. For Hermit Yi, the term 'vocation" (having a "calling") was not
metaphorical as it usually is in secular industrial ,societies. Sansin called and he
responded by profoundly changing his life.
Hermit Yi's story also shows how important it is for people to discern the qualities of
spiritual energy inherent in particular things and places. This notion is central to
p'ungsu, the Korean art of geomancy. Both p'ungsu and umyang theory suggest that
human well-being is affected by how we orient ourselves to the environment. Nature-
human relationships must be guided by principle;; of balance and harmony. I have
found this a refreshing contrast to the common materialist assumption that natural
resource;; exist merely for human consumption and exploitation.
After an absence of ten years, my return to Korea in 1987 completed a cycle of my
life in which I finished my graduate studies and obtained a professorship. It was a
time for reconnection with a country fondly remembered for its many insights, and
for renewal of ties with Korean relatives, friends, and mentors.
While in Pusan, I visited a shaman who kept a shrine dedicated to the Buddha and
the Dragon King (yongwang) who, according to Korean tradition, rule;; the fortune;;
of those who make their living at sea. She, like many other shamans, combined
Buddhist and shamanic symbols and beliefs in her daily practice.
My mood was pensive as I sat in her shrine room reflecting wistfully on the decade
spent away from Korea and the sense that I missed living in a place where the spirit
and human worlds seemed closer. I wondered if my spiritual development might be
enhanced by living in Korea.
The shaman urged me to diligently pursue my spiritual development, and I asked
how, since I was living in the United states, so far from my Confucian and shamanic
mentors in Korea Simply practice regular meditation wherever you are, she said, and
if necessary, find a Buddhist temple in the United States, but most importantly,
remember your spiritual development will unfold naturally if you make a regular,
diligent effort no matter where you are. She seemed to realize my nostalgia for
Korean connections was leading me to a false sense of discouragement. Since my
first visit to Korea, I have sometime;; fallen into the mistaken notion that 'the grass is
always greener on the other side of the hill, , to use an American aphorism.
During young adulthood, in an overzealons criticism of Western social problems, I
tended to reject my own cultural heritage. This shaman reminded me of what my
Confucian mentors, Professors Yi Dong-jun and Lew Seung-Kook at Sung Kyun
Kwan University, taught me in 1976-77: respect for one's cultural roots and ancestry
is itself an integral part of one's spiritual development All religious and cultural
traditions have flaws, but so also do they have beauty and wisdom By rejecting my
own heritage, I would lose that beauty and wisdom, and probably fall into the flaws
of another tradition. So over a span of ten years, the Confucian scholar and the
shaman helped enliven an appreciation of my own Czech-American Catholic
heritage.
Throughout the past 16 years my Korean teachers have inspired me to work toward
a mutual understanding and reconciliation of Eastern and Western spiritualities. This
task is worthwhile not only for my personal development, but also for the
development of global- cooperation. It seems to me now that developing oneself just
where one is, and sharing with others just where they are, contributes to the spiritual
development of where everyone is.