⠀She digs with her bare hands. Dusts me clean with her muslin sleeves,
before holding me tightly to her chest. A sudden transport back to something
reminiscent of underground, where rhythmic thuds soothe you against the
dizzying brights of the world. I'm getting to know embrace before birth.
⠀Ginseng, a root plant widely popular for its medicinal properties in East
Asia, are known to grow slowly and away from your sight. A professional
simmanis
existed for centuries, following rigorous set of rules in hopes of spotting
this clandestine rhizome. On the day of hunting, they are banned from biding
farewells before their departure. They must have been abstaining from
killing, eating animals, having sexual intercourse, partying and mourning.
Leaving behind their homes, covered in ochre and straw rope to ward off
evil, they set up a shrine and pray to mountain gods immediately upon
entering the mountain. Offering a white rice which they then themselves
consume before taking a nap, believing the satisfied gods will bestow them
the sacred ability to know where ginsengs lie through their dreams.
⠀It is told in Korea, either you or someone very close to you will have a
‘birth-dream’ which predicts the fate of the unborn child when you get
pregnant. In these birth-dreams, your yet-to-be-child appears in many forms
but a human child. A dragon, a tiger, a jewel or a red apple atop of tree
branch, all representing a characteristic of their unique fate. They soar
towards a sky or lure you with their sweet tangy scent.
⠀I was a ginseng, in my great-grand mother’s dream, I appear hidden
from her.
⠀Shape inspired by mani-cha, a Tibetan buddhism prayer wheel that prays on
behalf of the ones who turn them. These empty barrels patiently waits their
turn until you walk by with your arms stretched out, and as your palm
brushes through their mantra shaped grooves, they shout their prayers for a
while until they can stand still and wait again.
