My yearning to reconnect with my Korean ancestry is not unique to me, of course. So many of us have been uprooted from our ancestry and motherland, a very intentional goal of colonization and imperialism, as it renders us spiritually and physically ungrounded, leaving us more vulnerable to dominance and control.
So, it feels as though I’ve been on a life-long trek navigating windy obscure trails following breadcrumbs of varying sizes, shapes, and feelings, and being duped by endless red herrings as I make my way towards home.
[Illustration of a mudang - a Korean shaman - performing a ceremony with Korean women participants by Kring Demetrio, p 104 in Spellbound]
Sometimes I get so caught up in reclaiming my ancestry that I insist on doing things exactly the way my ancestors did them, that the essence of the being and connecting gets lost in the dogmatic doing. I’m still learning and unlearning how to do dreamwork in a way that feels authentic to me and the context I’m living in.
In my un/learning, I want to try something - I’m calling in 눈치 noonchi. In 구자원’s (Chaweon Koo) Spellbound: A new Witch’s Guide to Crafting the Future, she writes about “[fetishizing] traditions, denying any innovations…” and interacting with the unseen realm “as an inert relic of the past, not the real living tradition that’s still transforming around us…”
Noonchi is a Korean concept that describes a sensitivity to “reading the room,” a contextual intelligence that relies on sensing another’s 기분 kgiboon, a feeling or mood. Chaeweon continues to write that “Magical 누치 requires a strong grounding in tradition…[I] can’t live in the edenic past, but [I] also mustn’t abandon it.”
At first, it feels like a bit of a stretch to use noonchi in the context of dreams - after all, noonchi is used in a social context. However, as I reframe dreams as it’s own consciousness, noonchi is a valuable ancestral tool I can ground myself in.
When I began working with my dreams more intentionally, I had little to no noonchi. I would bypass my noonchi and rely on ready-made dream symbols and interpretations, usually by way of the modern-day oracle we call Google. Today, when I’m engaging in dreamwork, I rely more on the kgiboon and my own ancestral and psychosocial context. I’m essentially using noonchi to work with my dreams, I just never thought to refer to my approach as such:
What emotions did I experience as I was dreaming? As I’m recounting the dream? In other words, if I were to reframe the dream as it’s own consciousness, what is the mood or vibe of the dream?
What do the figures and symbols in the dream mean in the context of my ancestry and personal history?
And community dreamwork amplifies the noonchi! Others notice details in the dream that I may have overlooked through the invitation of their questions or other feedback.
I am tickled at this emerging curiosity of consciously inviting noonchi into my dreamwork! In doing so, I am meeting my dreamworld as it’s own consciousness that has a particular vibe and varies in emotions and moods, and evolves over time as it’s acknowledged and nurtured. At the same time, I am calling in a Korean concept to potentially deepen my relationship to my dreams in a more authentic way for the diasporic context I’m living in.
I have my hesitations about noonchi, as the unhealthy manifestation of it is scrutiny for the purpose of manipulation or hyper-vigilance stemming from anxiety. I certainly don’t wish to engage with my dreams from a scheming or distressed mindset. I also don’t wish to engage with my dreams from a static one conditioned by a colonized and commercialized “paint-by-numbers” approach.
At the moment, noonchi serves as a playful reminder to treat my dreamworld as a teacher-friend, where we both connect to each other’s kgiboon.
What are your thoughts on bringing noonchi into dreamwork?