The weight beneath the Robes

Reconciling my role as a mudang and navigate my living reality as a human was not easy. There was so many aspects of my role that I really struggled with for a long while. Part of that struggle was working through how I was trained and conditioned to believe. My elder taught me to never turn away a client, that no matter what day, time, or what we are doing. If someone called, we answered. It was expected of me to drop everything and step into session because spirit come first. That was the rule. This applied to rituals and ceremony, if our teacher, or anyone in our spirit family called us, we answered. Always.

Overtime, this practice wasn’t sustainable and started to cause a lot of strain and stress for me, especially working with clients who already had their session booked with me in advanced. I know what it means to be on the other end of receiving a session sitting with a mudang like I once did many years ago. People who were counting on the time and space we set together. Juggling with a demanding schedule that constantly shifted and changed depending on the needs of the elder and spirit family, navigating shifting schedules with clients, personal affairs with my kids and family, and my own health and wellbeing.

There were always conflicts. My elder did not care if it was my children birthday, or experiencing a loss in the family, or whatever important event and occasion I had. I was told that if I ignored my spiritual duties, harm would come to my children. To say no to the spirits was to invite suffering upon my family. And when you're a mother and a mudang, those kinds of words hit you in the heart.

I was thrown into chaos. It was not sustainable, I began to get overly anxious, no longer feeling aligned with myself or the sacred. In those final years with my elder, my health declined. My body was sounding the alarm my spirit had been whispering for many years. When I finally made the decision to step away from the lineage and my elder, it wasn’t easy. It was a spiritual death and a rebirth.

But that step was the beginning of a return. A return to myself. To what was sacred to me. To a rhythm that allowed for breath, care, and alignment. A return home, to my body, and truth.

After 2 years of navigating all this, I have been rebuilding myself. Breath by breath. I learned what it means to honor my body with rest, and tend to my spirit with care. Now, I move differently. With care. With boundaries. Respect for my spirit and humaness.