Material Consumption within Korean Shamanism

Shamanism is often thought of as an intangible connection to the spirit world—a life of rituals, ceremonies, and divine messages. Yet, for many of us who walk this path, it’s also a life filled with an ever-growing collection of spiritual tools, ritual items, and ceremonial paraphernalia. My shaman friends like to joke, shamanism is really just a collection of spiritual knick-knacks—a practice of endlessly gathering items to serve the spirits and sustain our work.

But this collection of items speaks to more than just practicality or aesthetics. It reveals the evolving nature of shamanic material culture and how it is shaped by societal shifts, diasporic challenges, and even the forces of capitalism.

in the past Korean shaman shops were referred to as 만물상 (manmulsang) that were often owned and operated by shamans themselves. Much like botánicas in Latinx traditions, these shops offered essential ritual goods and supplies for mudang and their communities. They were not just places to purchase items but also hubs for spiritual exchange and support.

Today, these shops are often now referred to as 불교사 (Bulgyosa), reflecting the influence of Buddhism on modern Korean society. This shift highlights a deeper cultural adaptation: by aligning with Buddhist terminology, these shops gain social legitimacy in a society where shamanism has long struggled with prejudice and harmful stigmas. Similarly, how older generations of shamans often referred to themselves as bosal (bodhisattvas) rather than mudang, to navigate societal judgment and acceptance.

Changing Material Culture

One of the most visible changes in the material culture of mudang practices is the abundance of 신복 sinbok (spirit regalia) available today. In the past, a mudang might have owned just one or two sets of regalia due to their high cost and the effort required to make them. These garments were traditionally handmade, with specific colors and designs tied to the spirits they represented. For instance, Sonyeo, the celestial heavenly fairy maiden, was always associated with white garments symbolizing purity and divinity.

Today, however, sinbok can be found in a wide range of colors and designs, often detached from their traditional meanings. Modern mudang may have entire wardrobes of regalia, reflecting not only the commercialization of these items but also the changing dynamics of shamanic practices. While having options can be liberating, it raises questions about these modern creations and the traditions they stem from.

Diaspora Challenges

For diaspora mudang, the material aspect of practice comes with unique challenges. In Korea, shaman altars are often adorned with intricate decorations and statues of gods and deities. However, for those of us living abroad, acquiring these items can be enormously expensive, and shipping fragile statues carries the risk of damage.

I remember a Korean client visiting my home shrine and commenting on its simplicity, comparing it to the lavish shrines of Korean shamans adorned with gold, statues, and countless spirit items. I explained to her that my spirits prefer function over aesthetic abundance. My practice emphasizes using only what is necessary, aligning with intention rather than ornamentation.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way. When I first began walking this path, I was overjoyed and eager to buy everything and anything for my shrine, believing it would strengthen my connection with the spirits. But over the past eight years, I’ve learned to focus on what truly aligns with my spirits and my practice. For me, it’s no longer about accumulating objects but about ensuring that each item carries purpose and energy.

Walking into a mudang store today, you’ll find everything from traditional shamanic tools to Buddhist supplies, reflecting the blending of these practices in modern Korea. The sheer variety of items, tools many of which are mass-produced raises questions. Does this abundance dilute the sacredness of these items? Is there such a thing as too much when it comes to ritual objects?

While these stores provide accessibility for practitioners, they also highlight the ways in which shamanism has adapted to fit into the frameworks of modern consumption, often influenced by capitalism and mass production. This evolution presents both opportunities and challenges.

For me personally, this reflection has deepened my desire to create rather than collect. I’ve always enjoyed making things and being crafty, and I’ve realized that crafting my own ritual tools brings a sense of joy and alignment. Whether it’s making candles infused with my energy or experimenting with creating hanji paper for special bujeok amulets, the process of crafting becomes part of the ritual itself.

I’m currently exploring the care and cultivation of paper mulberry trees, with the hope of creating my own hanji paper in the coming years. I’m also crafting my own ritual candles, intentionally infused with spiritual energy that flows from my hands into the materials, carrying purpose and connection to those who will use them. Each creation is intentional and rooted in ritual, making the process deeply personal. It’s a way to infuse my spirit into the tools I use, ensuring they are not merely functional but imbued with spiritual connection and meaning.

Consumption is a part of life, but it doesn’t have to consume us. By choosing with care and consuming with purpose, we can transform even the simplest acts into a meaningful statement of values and priorities. In the end, it’s not about what we consume but how we choose to live.