Hoorah!
edit July, 1st: 4 packages!! friendmade lady gaga shirt!
edit 2 July, 6th: +2 beautiful letters from texas!!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
My friend, fellow sociologist, and fellow paranoid: Introducing Elle Jhe
I've invited my friend Elle Jhe to be a contributor to this blog which I am very excited about, here is ze's first contribution:
Driving and the Downfall of Society
This weekend my boyfriend and I ventured from Albany, NY down to Ocean City, NJ. I make the pilgrimage down there yearly to spend some time with my extended family and swim in the ocean. But I dread the drive down every time. It’s a long and arduous trek through one of the most densely populated areas in the country, and I added a lot of extra miles on by taking a detour east of the Hudson to hang with some old buddies in CT.
We left around noon and headed down 95 South to 287. Regardless of time of day, there is always a good amount of traffic. I get irrationally angry when stuck in traffic, as if god had conjured up the bottleneck just to piss me off specifically. We cross the bridge, which I am terribly frightened of crossing (NY has no money…this bridge is really long…I wonder if they still do repairs…have they rated this bridge for safety? I wonder what it ranks…. *images of Tacoma narrows flash*…our infrastructure is crumbling everywhere else, why not when suspended over three miles of deep river?...It’s not like the government gives a fuck if we all die anyway….) We survive the bridge and make it to the next peril, the Garden State Parkway.
Here in the Northeast of America each state has its stereotypes about other states drivers. NY drivers are fast and aggressive jerks. CT people never use their turning signals and step on their breaks all the time for no reason. People from MA drive like assholes, hence, mass-holes. Jersey drivers are just completely insane. Like all stereotypes these obviously are not entirely true. But in my experience driving all over the NE it seems that there is a certain culture of driving that distinctly differs from place to place. If you think about it, driving on America’s interstate system is a sociological experiment: put all kinds of people into extremely fast metal machines, give them a set of rules to follow, and set them loose to interact with one another as they may. Over time people develop certain expectations of what constitutes “acceptable” behavior and that varies from place to place. And just like the rest of society, while the planners have a vision of how a system functions, the reality is much different.
I noticed that in the areas around NYC people drive incredibly fast. I usually go 65, sometimes 70mph, and on both sides of me cars were whipping past. Not only that, I found that many people tended to also weave unpredictably in and out of traffic. At one moment I was surrounded by cars on all sides, going extremely fast; I had a horrible feeling that I was just moments from a wreck. I could see people ahead of me accidentally drifting across the dotted lines that mark the lanes, and when I passed them I would see that they were on their cell phone, or reading, or looking at a GPS—pretty much anything except looking at the road. When we got off at a rest stop to the left of the highway and tried to merge again, a SUV going about 90mph cut into our lane and I pulled off to the shoulder just in time not to die. Jesse took the wheel for the rest of the ride down because I was too shaken up to keep driving after that.
And I was wondering as I finally got safely to the beach; how could all of these people I encountered be so nonchalant about the act of driving? When you really think about it, it is a very dangerous undertaking. People’s bodies can’t withstand the impact of a crash at the speeds many people travel. I felt like there was a fundamental lack of respect for the act of driving and of other drivers as well. People screaming and flipping each other off, not letting people get in lane when they have to exit, depending on technology instead of their own instincts. I feel as though the culture of driving has become, “My car will protect me if I get in a crash, so I can drive however I want. I don’t have to look at the road because my GPS system is guiding me, and if I want to watch TV--hell, I’m gonna do it.” Car companies are inventing cars that parallel park for you, that sense if you’re drifting into another lane and correct your steering, that stop if they sense that you are about to crash into something in front of you; essentially, rationalizing peoples’ obliviousness to surroundings when behind the wheel. It seems to say, “Don’t worry about thinking-- the machine will do it for you.”
But let’s just think people; how many times does your home computer glitch out and do something totally unpredictable? You want that happening when you’re flying down the road at 90?? The more and more I think about it, the whole system of driving is inherently flawed. It’s a system that’s designed in such a way that it is only safe if everyone obeys all the rules all the time. And that never happens, regardless of how many fucking state troopers you pay to sit on the highway and pull people over, or how many computer programs you write to compensate for human error.
And the most ironic part of this whole experience is that I was using an oil-burning vehicle to take a vacation by the ocean, which is being destroyed by an oil spill. Next year maybe I’ll travel on horseback.
This weekend my boyfriend and I ventured from Albany, NY down to Ocean City, NJ. I make the pilgrimage down there yearly to spend some time with my extended family and swim in the ocean. But I dread the drive down every time. It’s a long and arduous trek through one of the most densely populated areas in the country, and I added a lot of extra miles on by taking a detour east of the Hudson to hang with some old buddies in CT.
We left around noon and headed down 95 South to 287. Regardless of time of day, there is always a good amount of traffic. I get irrationally angry when stuck in traffic, as if god had conjured up the bottleneck just to piss me off specifically. We cross the bridge, which I am terribly frightened of crossing (NY has no money…this bridge is really long…I wonder if they still do repairs…have they rated this bridge for safety? I wonder what it ranks…. *images of Tacoma narrows flash*…our infrastructure is crumbling everywhere else, why not when suspended over three miles of deep river?...It’s not like the government gives a fuck if we all die anyway….) We survive the bridge and make it to the next peril, the Garden State Parkway.
Here in the Northeast of America each state has its stereotypes about other states drivers. NY drivers are fast and aggressive jerks. CT people never use their turning signals and step on their breaks all the time for no reason. People from MA drive like assholes, hence, mass-holes. Jersey drivers are just completely insane. Like all stereotypes these obviously are not entirely true. But in my experience driving all over the NE it seems that there is a certain culture of driving that distinctly differs from place to place. If you think about it, driving on America’s interstate system is a sociological experiment: put all kinds of people into extremely fast metal machines, give them a set of rules to follow, and set them loose to interact with one another as they may. Over time people develop certain expectations of what constitutes “acceptable” behavior and that varies from place to place. And just like the rest of society, while the planners have a vision of how a system functions, the reality is much different.
I noticed that in the areas around NYC people drive incredibly fast. I usually go 65, sometimes 70mph, and on both sides of me cars were whipping past. Not only that, I found that many people tended to also weave unpredictably in and out of traffic. At one moment I was surrounded by cars on all sides, going extremely fast; I had a horrible feeling that I was just moments from a wreck. I could see people ahead of me accidentally drifting across the dotted lines that mark the lanes, and when I passed them I would see that they were on their cell phone, or reading, or looking at a GPS—pretty much anything except looking at the road. When we got off at a rest stop to the left of the highway and tried to merge again, a SUV going about 90mph cut into our lane and I pulled off to the shoulder just in time not to die. Jesse took the wheel for the rest of the ride down because I was too shaken up to keep driving after that.
And I was wondering as I finally got safely to the beach; how could all of these people I encountered be so nonchalant about the act of driving? When you really think about it, it is a very dangerous undertaking. People’s bodies can’t withstand the impact of a crash at the speeds many people travel. I felt like there was a fundamental lack of respect for the act of driving and of other drivers as well. People screaming and flipping each other off, not letting people get in lane when they have to exit, depending on technology instead of their own instincts. I feel as though the culture of driving has become, “My car will protect me if I get in a crash, so I can drive however I want. I don’t have to look at the road because my GPS system is guiding me, and if I want to watch TV--hell, I’m gonna do it.” Car companies are inventing cars that parallel park for you, that sense if you’re drifting into another lane and correct your steering, that stop if they sense that you are about to crash into something in front of you; essentially, rationalizing peoples’ obliviousness to surroundings when behind the wheel. It seems to say, “Don’t worry about thinking-- the machine will do it for you.”
But let’s just think people; how many times does your home computer glitch out and do something totally unpredictable? You want that happening when you’re flying down the road at 90?? The more and more I think about it, the whole system of driving is inherently flawed. It’s a system that’s designed in such a way that it is only safe if everyone obeys all the rules all the time. And that never happens, regardless of how many fucking state troopers you pay to sit on the highway and pull people over, or how many computer programs you write to compensate for human error.
And the most ironic part of this whole experience is that I was using an oil-burning vehicle to take a vacation by the ocean, which is being destroyed by an oil spill. Next year maybe I’ll travel on horseback.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
I'm just shedding my DNA everywhere
I've been watching Star Trek: The Next Generation (Season 2) compulsively to help me avoid being present in the world and recently (while remaining entirely unproductive, distracted, and in a state of stagnancy) there have been several episodes in which members of the bridge crew of the Enterprise are lost or have nearly been lost due to varying circumstances and have had their DNA/DNA imprint/atomic imprint used in order to bring them back to life in deep space aboard the Enterprise in a healthy state. As a result of this inundation of fictitious 24th century imagery, I have naturally no doubt become more aware of the amount of DNA I leave around all the time. For example, I have a live hair follicle on my lap right now.
The more reclusive I become, the bigger the weirdo. I'm a little worried about myself.
The more reclusive I become, the bigger the weirdo. I'm a little worried about myself.
Friday, June 18, 2010
I didn't go to the 5th day of my apprenticeship today
sometimes I just don't have the strength within me to walk in a mans world with my head held high.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
HEY FELLAS, WHAT'S YOUR DAMAGE?
Dear various Croatian men,
PLEASE STOP IRKING ME
(I hope this isn't some kind of unfortunate cultural trait.)
Love, Lily
Dear Morino,
Have I ever once called you back? You've been calling me now for over a month, and I have never reciprocated. Do we really have anything to talk about on the phone? Your German isn't that good, and neither is mine. Do we know each other at all? Do we really have anything to say to each other? Yes, I should never have given you my phone number to begin with. Yes, you get points for being persistent, but I've had enough. Please cease and desist.
Love, Lily
Dear Milly,
You seem like a nice guy, really you do. You were helpful n' all on the first day showing me around. So why are you constantly trying to get a rise out of me? Yes I know I'm a girl in an all male workshop, and no doubt you and your co-workers are feeling shaken up and want to shake me up, my existence there no doubt in your mind makes me a deviant or some kind of a threat. You behave in a misogynistic way all the time and I'm growing tired of it (after all of 4 days) but my verbal skills in German aren't really good enough to articulate precisely enough what I mean. Can you stop teasing me about every little thing? Yes, to respond truthfully to your question I am a model (for art.) But what does that have to do with my right to wear a hat when its raining outside? And, no, I don't want to be a good housewife. I don't want to be anyone's wife. You say that you're a good husband. Do you think that your wife would take pleasure in seeing you tapping me on the ass with a piece of museum glass while I'm trying to put together a wood frame for the first time?
When I asked you not to do that, to leave my body alone, you told me that wasn't my body, it was an ass. Umm... how revealing of you being a big fucking misogynist, objectifying a part of my body, as if it wasn't a part of me, as if I wasn't connected to it at all. Then you asked if all American girls are as "gefährlich" as I am. Now, just what did you mean by that? The usual meaning is "dangerous." Is that what you meant? Or did you mean one of the plethora of other definitions of the word? Such as: risky, unsafe, awkward, or harmful? In any case, I should have shot back: "I dunno, are all Croatian men so disrespectful of the bodily autonomy of women and their consent to being touched, particularly while engaged in a task requiring concentration?" or "Do all Croatian men always try to thwart the way of young women in their new workplaces?" or "Ask Stevie, he's from Texas." or "Yes." or "How would you respond if I tapped you on the ass with a piece of museum glass while you were engaged in a task requiring your attention at work?" or "How would you respond if I touched any part of your body with or without museum glass?" or "Yes, they all don't like getting hit with glass." I could go on like this all day, but I have someone else to write to. I hope I can sleep on this and not have a problem with you at work tomorrow. You seem like a nice guy afterall, and I wouldn't want tension in the workplace.
Love, Lily
Dear Eban,
I appreciate all of your help with showing me how to sand a frame (despite how condescending you were about it, as if I'd never sanded anything in my life before, but maybe that's just your sense of humor) but why, me being an apprentice and all, would you ever tell me that I can't cut frames because "that's not women's work?"
WTF?
Love, Lily
On an unrelated-ly pleasant note, Jill is playing the piano right now and it is SO lovely!
PLEASE STOP IRKING ME
(I hope this isn't some kind of unfortunate cultural trait.)
Love, Lily
Dear Morino,
Have I ever once called you back? You've been calling me now for over a month, and I have never reciprocated. Do we really have anything to talk about on the phone? Your German isn't that good, and neither is mine. Do we know each other at all? Do we really have anything to say to each other? Yes, I should never have given you my phone number to begin with. Yes, you get points for being persistent, but I've had enough. Please cease and desist.
Love, Lily
Dear Milly,
You seem like a nice guy, really you do. You were helpful n' all on the first day showing me around. So why are you constantly trying to get a rise out of me? Yes I know I'm a girl in an all male workshop, and no doubt you and your co-workers are feeling shaken up and want to shake me up, my existence there no doubt in your mind makes me a deviant or some kind of a threat. You behave in a misogynistic way all the time and I'm growing tired of it (after all of 4 days) but my verbal skills in German aren't really good enough to articulate precisely enough what I mean. Can you stop teasing me about every little thing? Yes, to respond truthfully to your question I am a model (for art.) But what does that have to do with my right to wear a hat when its raining outside? And, no, I don't want to be a good housewife. I don't want to be anyone's wife. You say that you're a good husband. Do you think that your wife would take pleasure in seeing you tapping me on the ass with a piece of museum glass while I'm trying to put together a wood frame for the first time?
When I asked you not to do that, to leave my body alone, you told me that wasn't my body, it was an ass. Umm... how revealing of you being a big fucking misogynist, objectifying a part of my body, as if it wasn't a part of me, as if I wasn't connected to it at all. Then you asked if all American girls are as "gefährlich" as I am. Now, just what did you mean by that? The usual meaning is "dangerous." Is that what you meant? Or did you mean one of the plethora of other definitions of the word? Such as: risky, unsafe, awkward, or harmful? In any case, I should have shot back: "I dunno, are all Croatian men so disrespectful of the bodily autonomy of women and their consent to being touched, particularly while engaged in a task requiring concentration?" or "Do all Croatian men always try to thwart the way of young women in their new workplaces?" or "Ask Stevie, he's from Texas." or "Yes." or "How would you respond if I tapped you on the ass with a piece of museum glass while you were engaged in a task requiring your attention at work?" or "How would you respond if I touched any part of your body with or without museum glass?" or "Yes, they all don't like getting hit with glass." I could go on like this all day, but I have someone else to write to. I hope I can sleep on this and not have a problem with you at work tomorrow. You seem like a nice guy afterall, and I wouldn't want tension in the workplace.
Love, Lily
Dear Eban,
I appreciate all of your help with showing me how to sand a frame (despite how condescending you were about it, as if I'd never sanded anything in my life before, but maybe that's just your sense of humor) but why, me being an apprentice and all, would you ever tell me that I can't cut frames because "that's not women's work?"
WTF?
Love, Lily
On an unrelated-ly pleasant note, Jill is playing the piano right now and it is SO lovely!
Monday, June 14, 2010
Weird dreams/New things
Sometimes you gotta write and for me this is one of those times. Lacking in filtration, editing, ceremoniousness, or even necessarily poignancy. I'm a stranger in a strange land with some allies but not much emotional support (though that's shifting.) So here's today's VERY necessary unloading. Oh, and vapid or no, yr mom's still a ho.
I had South Western nostalgia dreams mixed up with Vermont nostalgia dreams last night. I woke up and wrote my dream down before my eyes had time to adjust to the light (my handwriting is evidence of this) and realized my new turquoise earring (flea market 75 cent booty/ibiza hippy market?) had fallen out of my ear while I was sleeping. I was afraid that it was too late even though I woke up 12,000,000 times between 6:30 and 9:00AM and poured tea down my throat and gobbled down the last piece of my gluten-free vegan lasagna (have to make more this week, that stuff is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth.) Got on the bike and went to my new apprenticeship as a framer and for 5.5 hours proceeded to cut mats. I did this while standing on a stool/simultaneously stooping because without the stool I was too short and with it I was towering over the mat cutter, causing difficulties in maintaining the expected level of precision for such a task. Freddy cooked a bangin' white asparagus soup for lunch, apparently he cooks lunch for all of his workers everyday and then when its nice out goes and takes a nap in the bench in the back yard. Talk about a chill work environment.
(Arco + Haenle Rahmen + Grafik Kunstverlag)
I wanted to go talk to him about hours but he was asleep on the bench. I just pretended I was checking to make sure my bike still existed. (It did.) As it turns out I can come and go as I wish. I wrote him a note to try and communicate about this issue (while I thought he was still sleeping in the garden) and he simply corrected the grammar and told me he would have it framed. No one who works in the workshop is German. We have me, two Croatians, and a Texan. Everyone is really really nice and solicitous and everyone's name ends in the "ee" sound. Freddy, Moopy, Milly, Stevie, Lily. OK, except maybe Eban. And maybe the lady who does the gold leafing on the frames but I haven't met her formally yet (although that is something I am SUPER interested in learning about.) Brigitte called and I'm getting an art class/puppet making class with her next week!!!! And then going to her birthday party! I was so excited to hear from her.
OH MY GOLLY I PARTIED WITH THE MOST AWESOME GROUP OF MONGOLS!
I was hanging out at Crystal's and we took a walk and had been wondering who was partying so hard outside of her house for however many hours-a group of super warm, lovely Mongolians. I talked with them for a while, can't say how long because my time-space orientation isn't that good in general and was particularly loopy at that hour but I'm guessing maybe an hour? It's incredible how thrilled people from really obscure countries with even more obscure languages are when you show that you've made some effort in learning their language. It totally makes the effort worthwhile. I kind of envy the experience from their side in a certain sense, being a native English speaker, I'm not expected to try, I'm always addressed in my native language which makes it difficult when I do, and I have no default secret language.
Strangely, this meeting of the Mongols occurred around the time I must have received an e-mail canceling my Mongolian Sprache Kurs for the rest of the semester, and also around the time that someone from Mongolia "friended" me on a virtual social networking utility? Bizzarro. The preceding floh-markts were effective, somewhat profitable, and generous. I sold almost all of my stuff or gave it away and had enough money to get myself some beautiful (space efficient) items: coral necklace I had been coveting (deadly sin) for some months at another vendors' booth (I get obsessive sometimes), bathing suit (much needed two weeks ago), etc. It was really good also to hang with Diana.
I say that I needed a bathing suit two weeks ago because I was in Amsterdam then and it was really hot and my lil' cuz Eva (wanna hang out with her more) & I went to too many flea markets and I bought 2.5 bathing suits there. I really don't need any more bathing suits, this is getting excessive. I went from none to 4.5.
In other news I just finished the first season of Star Trek: Next Generation and I feel a sense of loss. It is just so profound and nuanced and sophisticated and I have no space to download the next season (ha.) Also I cried all morning yesterday because I was watching coverage of the oil reaching Alabama's "White Beaches" and "Nature Conservatories." Ugh.
OK, this is starting to look like a livejournal entry of yore (like, c. 2001), I need to start writing in a real journal, and not just my dreams.
Right quick, projects:
-wings
-tryptych
-die kleine hexe
-puppen
-quitting the bad thing
-mongolian homework
-summer plans
-budget
P.S. Budapesht was also the shiat. Going to Berlin/Leipzig soon, then Prague, and hopefully Mongolia and more central Asia/Russia/the Balkans? Speaking of which I have an invite to Greece (and also to my G. Uncle in Switzerland), I should really take them up on it this time. I miss the U.S., hard. But right now I'm really happy to be here. Also to be riding my bike every day. Thank you uncle Robert! Hallelujah!
P.P.S. My mo sent me an amazing package in the mail with nine pairs of shoes and my brother's album.
P.P.P.S. JORDAN HAD HER BABY TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I had South Western nostalgia dreams mixed up with Vermont nostalgia dreams last night. I woke up and wrote my dream down before my eyes had time to adjust to the light (my handwriting is evidence of this) and realized my new turquoise earring (flea market 75 cent booty/ibiza hippy market?) had fallen out of my ear while I was sleeping. I was afraid that it was too late even though I woke up 12,000,000 times between 6:30 and 9:00AM and poured tea down my throat and gobbled down the last piece of my gluten-free vegan lasagna (have to make more this week, that stuff is the best thing I've ever had in my mouth.) Got on the bike and went to my new apprenticeship as a framer and for 5.5 hours proceeded to cut mats. I did this while standing on a stool/simultaneously stooping because without the stool I was too short and with it I was towering over the mat cutter, causing difficulties in maintaining the expected level of precision for such a task. Freddy cooked a bangin' white asparagus soup for lunch, apparently he cooks lunch for all of his workers everyday and then when its nice out goes and takes a nap in the bench in the back yard. Talk about a chill work environment.
(Arco + Haenle Rahmen + Grafik Kunstverlag)
I wanted to go talk to him about hours but he was asleep on the bench. I just pretended I was checking to make sure my bike still existed. (It did.) As it turns out I can come and go as I wish. I wrote him a note to try and communicate about this issue (while I thought he was still sleeping in the garden) and he simply corrected the grammar and told me he would have it framed. No one who works in the workshop is German. We have me, two Croatians, and a Texan. Everyone is really really nice and solicitous and everyone's name ends in the "ee" sound. Freddy, Moopy, Milly, Stevie, Lily. OK, except maybe Eban. And maybe the lady who does the gold leafing on the frames but I haven't met her formally yet (although that is something I am SUPER interested in learning about.) Brigitte called and I'm getting an art class/puppet making class with her next week!!!! And then going to her birthday party! I was so excited to hear from her.
OH MY GOLLY I PARTIED WITH THE MOST AWESOME GROUP OF MONGOLS!
I was hanging out at Crystal's and we took a walk and had been wondering who was partying so hard outside of her house for however many hours-a group of super warm, lovely Mongolians. I talked with them for a while, can't say how long because my time-space orientation isn't that good in general and was particularly loopy at that hour but I'm guessing maybe an hour? It's incredible how thrilled people from really obscure countries with even more obscure languages are when you show that you've made some effort in learning their language. It totally makes the effort worthwhile. I kind of envy the experience from their side in a certain sense, being a native English speaker, I'm not expected to try, I'm always addressed in my native language which makes it difficult when I do, and I have no default secret language.
Strangely, this meeting of the Mongols occurred around the time I must have received an e-mail canceling my Mongolian Sprache Kurs for the rest of the semester, and also around the time that someone from Mongolia "friended" me on a virtual social networking utility? Bizzarro. The preceding floh-markts were effective, somewhat profitable, and generous. I sold almost all of my stuff or gave it away and had enough money to get myself some beautiful (space efficient) items: coral necklace I had been coveting (deadly sin) for some months at another vendors' booth (I get obsessive sometimes), bathing suit (much needed two weeks ago), etc. It was really good also to hang with Diana.
I say that I needed a bathing suit two weeks ago because I was in Amsterdam then and it was really hot and my lil' cuz Eva (wanna hang out with her more) & I went to too many flea markets and I bought 2.5 bathing suits there. I really don't need any more bathing suits, this is getting excessive. I went from none to 4.5.
OK, this is starting to look like a livejournal entry of yore (like, c. 2001), I need to start writing in a real journal, and not just my dreams.
Right quick, projects:
-wings
-tryptych
-die kleine hexe
-puppen
-quitting the bad thing
-mongolian homework
-summer plans
-budget
P.S. Budapesht was also the shiat. Going to Berlin/Leipzig soon, then Prague, and hopefully Mongolia and more central Asia/Russia/the Balkans? Speaking of which I have an invite to Greece (and also to my G. Uncle in Switzerland), I should really take them up on it this time. I miss the U.S., hard. But right now I'm really happy to be here. Also to be riding my bike every day. Thank you uncle Robert! Hallelujah!
P.P.S. My mo sent me an amazing package in the mail with nine pairs of shoes and my brother's album.
P.P.P.S. JORDAN HAD HER BABY TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
An American in Mongolia: Part XX
Appendix
(AN AMERICAN IN MONGOLIA)
Personal Introduction presented at the start of an interview:My name is Lily, I go to Marlboro College in the Northeastern United States, and I’m an anthropology168 student studying abroad in Mongolia for the semester. My focus of study while I’ve been here has been spiritual life in Mongolia, although I’ve also been studying the Mongolian language, history, government, economy, art and culture. For my final project I am looking at the correlations and differences between shamans practicing in the city and in the countryside. So I hope that it’s alright if I ask you some questions to better help me understand shamanism in Mongolia. It’s my homework!
The answers that you give me will hopefully be incorporated into my research, so if you would like for me not you use your name, you can tell me now, or at the end of the interview.
Thank you!
Basic question set:
-The current age of the shaman as well as the time of life when subject became a shaman and their ethnicity (Khalkh, Buriyat, etc.) and shamanic color identification (white, black, or yellow.)
-The home aimag of the shaman, and the shaman’s breadth of knowledge concerning shamanism prior to becoming one.
-What the shaman’s “sickness” consisted of, if it occurred, and how it manifested, as well as if the shaman had a teacher. If not, how did the shaman discover s/he was a shaman.
-If the shaman had known ancestors who were also shamans, and if not then what the origins of their ongod were.
-That there was an occurrence of ongod partial possession or trance.
-What the working hours of the shaman are, if they operate on the lunar calendar or using symbolic numbers.
-If the shaman has a day job or alternate source of income.
-If the shaman has experienced any physical, psychological, emotional, and/or spiritual changes since becoming a shaman. If the shaman has had improved luck or health since becoming shaman.
-If the shaman has any memory of their own behavior during shaman-izing (while in trance/partial possession mode.)
-Who produced the shamanic costume and paraphenalia, and if the costume and paraphernalia were created under the direction of ongod or passed down by generation.
-Name, age, where from?
-How long have you been practicing shamanism, and how old were you when you began? Where did you become a shaman?
-How did you become a shaman? Did you have a teacher? Did you have some form of shaman’s sickness? Did your luck/health improve after you became a shaman? Do you have any shamans in your family?
-How did your emotional/psychological/
-Who are your personal ongods, and where is there home? What is your ethnicity?
-Was your shamanic costume designed under the direction of your ongod, as well as the way that your ger is set up, the instruments of your ritual, the way that the ritual itself is conducted?
-Do you have any personal awareness of your voice, behavior, or thoughts when you go into trance? If not, how do people tell you you’ve changed while you’re in trance?
-What color would you identify as? Black, white, yellow or something else?
Specific Question set:
Technicalities:
Did the subject have a set price-per-scheduled-ritual or a sliding scale based on what a client could afford or no tariff whatsoever; was there a non-arbitrary or spiritual basis for deciding upon working hours, and were they dictated to the subject by her/his ongod (s)?
Greater contextual consciousness:
Was there an expressed openness to practical shamanic intercultural exchange present; were there any articulated opinions by the subject about other city shamans and their practices; had the subject noticed the attitudes of others change towards the her/him after coming out as a shaman, and what was the subjects’ view on the evolving course of shamanism in Mongolia today?
Did the subject belong to or know of any groups of shamans, and if so, was s/he aware of what their affiliations were based upon; was there a desire for anonymity or notoriety, and would the subject ever consider ritualizing on a large scale on behalf of the public or for (gasp!) tourists?
Responsibility as spiritual leader within community:
Did the subject feel as if they were accountable to their clients, how would the subject define his/her relationship with clients and how many might they estimate to have had since becoming a shaman? In the subjects’ evaluation, was his/her clientele made up primarily of one socio-economic class, and was there a general trend in the expectations the clientele had of the subject? And finally, what did the subject feel was their role within society as a self-identified shaman?
-Do you know anything of the shamans of other cultures? What do you think about them? Might you ever incorporate the practices of a foreign shaman into your ritual?
-Do you have a schedule of practice, i.e. working hours? How did you decide on them? By the lunar calendar, (zar, tinger) or under the direction of your ongod? Do you rely upon shamanizing as your primary source of income?
-Do you have a set rate that you charge (tariff) those who seek your help? Why or why not?
-Do you know approximately how many people you have shamanized on behalf of?
-Do you know how many other shamans live in your area? What do you think of their practices?
-What have you heard about shamans practicing in the countryside/city?
-Do you have any aspirations to move into the countryside/city? Why/why not?
-How would you define your relationship with your clients? What kind of people seek your help (would you say?) Where do they come from? What do they hope to gain/lose by visiting you?
-Would you ever consider performing a shamanic ritual for tourists or for the public? How would that make you feel?
-Would you prefer to be well known in your community or maintain some kind of anonymity? Why?
-How did people react when you first became a shaman in this area? Have their attitudes towards you changed? How so?
-When you first began practicing here, were people familiar with shamanism? Were there any other shamans here?
-Would you consider yourself a leader of your community? Why/why not?
-What do you feel is your responsibility to your clients, and what is their responsibility to you?
-How do you think shamanism in Mongolia has changed (along with public perceptions of it) since you became a shaman? Since the Soviet era?
Shamanism survey: шашиний судалгаа
I’m an anthropology student studying abroad in Mongolia for the semester doing a comparative study of urban and rural shamanism. I would greatly appreciate if you took the time to answer the questions below, as they would help my research. Thanks very much!
Би Монголд нэг семестрийн хугацаатай сурч байгаа антроплоги судлалын оюутан одоогоор хот болон талаар харьцуулсан судалгаа хийж байгаа юм. Цаг гарган миний судалгааны асуултанд хариулж байгаад тань туйлаас талархаж байна.
Would you describe yourself as a religious person? Та рийг гэж боддог уу?
If so, which religion do you subscribe to? Хэрэв тийм бол ямар шашинтай вэ?
What are your views on shamanism in Mongolia today (briefly)? нгийн Монголын шашины талаарх таны бодол юу вэ? (товч)
Would you ever consider visiting a shaman for help? Why/why not? Та бдээр тусламж авахаар очиж байсан уу? Яагаадочсон?/Яагаад ?
Do you know any shamans? If so, do they live in the city or the countryside? Та хэн нэгэн мэдэх ? Хэрэв тийм бол тэр хотод амьдардаг уу амьдардаг уу?
What do you think about the practices of shamans in Ulaanbaatar? Улаанбаатарт байдаг бнарын талаар та гэж боддог вэ?
Баярлалаа.
Results of shamanism survey for laypeople at the artists union 6-4-08:People identifying as religious: 7/10, 1/10 said “a little bit”, another said “maybe”, one said no.
Religious affiliation: 5/10 Buddhist, 1/10 Buddhist/Shamanist, 2/10 Shamanist, 2/10 “No” or “Don’t worship no religion.”
Sampling of Views on Shamanism in Mongolia today: “My ancient ancestors spirits stayed”, “National Religion”, “It is our most ancient religion, worshipping nature; sky, earth, fire, water is the most correct thing”, “Ancient tradition, perhaps origin of Buddhism”, “Restarting again”, “Don’t know”, “Too bad”, “Mongolian’s original religion”, “Very good”, “I think it’s normal for me.”
Consider visiting a shaman for help: “Yes, because I needed help”, “Yes I visit because I’m Mongolian”, “My family has own ongots”, “I don’t know any shamans”, “Myself shaman”, 2/10 “No”, “Yes”, “No, don’t know well”, “No never.”
Know any shamans, and where: 3/10 “No”, “2”, 2/10 “Lives in UB”, 2/10 “Don’t know”, 2/10 “Both city & countryside.”
Perceptions of shamans in UB: “I don’t care where they live if they can communicate with ongods”, “I don’t think much about them”, “It seems most shamans moved to UB, I hear many people talking about shamanism”, 2/10 “Don’t know”, “Just shamans”, “Bad”, “Many fake shamans”, “Depends, they are different. Some of them really good. But others only interested in making money. That’s what I think.”
The rules of Chanar for non-shamans, Bayan Uul 2008:
- Don’t go into the fire circle, or you’ll anger the spirits.
- Don’t spit near the fire, or eternal fire will be dirtied.
- Don’t fight.
- Don’t walk around the fire.
- When making offering to the fire, take three steps backwards immediately afterwards.
- No garbage near or in the fire.
- Don’t swear near the fire.
- Don’t pollute the environment.
- Near/in the prayer circle (sky’s blue temple/altar) obey Mongolian customs, that is, keep your hands in your lap while sitting, at your sides while standing, out of your pockets, don’t cross your legs, take off your hat, etc. It will also offend the spirits if you drink vodka, or smoke in this area.
- Be careful not to set things on fire.
- Follow the rules.
- Don’t poke or point with your fingers towards the fire, you’ll call the demons.
- Don’t burn anything with a bad smell near the fire (plastic, skin, hair, etc.)
- If you’re on your period, leave or you will dirty the fire.
- Don’t point or show the fire tongs at the heavens.
- When making offerings to the fire, you must add argal (dung) by hand, vodka by cup, and butter by ladle.
- Don’t sit with your legs open. Sky will be upset.
- Don’t warm hands by ceremonial fire, or your life will be cold.
- Don’t chop wood near the fire. Or the fire will be decapitated.
- If you recently gave birth, leave.
- Don’t show the bottoms of your feet to the fire.
- If you’re pregnant, don’t make offering, or your baby will be miscarried.
- Don’t offer milk to the fire, or you will go blind.
- Don’t offer water to the fire.
Bibliography
(AN AMERICAN IN MONGOLIA)
Books:Abram, David. The Spell of the Sensuous: Perception and Language in a More-Than-Human World. New York: Vintage, 1997.
Altangeral, D., trans. Mongolian Folktales (In English and Mongolian). Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia: Haan Printing Company Limited, 2003.
Dikov, Nikolai N. Early Cultures of Northeastern Asia. Moscow, Russia: Nauka.
- Dulam, Bumochir. Mongol Shamanic Ritual. Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia: Mokhiin Useg Company Limited, 2002.
- Eliade, Mircea. Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. Trans. Williard R. Trask. New York, New York: Arkana, Penguin Group, 1989.
- Empson, Rebecca, ed. Time, Causality and Prophesy in the Mongolian Culture Region: Visions of the Future. Kent, Great Britain: Global Oriental Limited, 2006.
Walter, Mariko N., and Eva J. Neumann Fridman, eds. Shamanism: An Encyclopedia of World Beliefs.
Journal/Magazine Articles:
Batmonkh, Sh. "Businessmen will sue government in court." UB Post 21 Feb. 2008. 10 Jan. 2008 <http://ubpost.
Batmonkh, Sh. "Market Children in Mongolia." UB Post 6 May 2008. 5 Jan. 2009 <http://ubpost.mongolnews.mn/
Carlyle May, L. "A Survey of Glossolalia and Related Phenomena in Non-Christian Religions." American Anthropologist New 58 (1956): 83.
Humphrey, Caroline. "Shamans in the City." Anthropology Today 15 (1999).
Shimamura, Ippei. "More than One Homeland?: Diasporic Imaginations of the Aga-Buryats." Minpaku Anthropology Newsletter (2004).
Wingfield-Hayes, Rupert. "Mongolia's Drinking Epidemic." BBC News Asia-Pacific 25 Sept. 2003. BBC News. 12 Jan. 2009 <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/
"What is a Twinkie." Yahoo! GeoCities 04 May 2009 <http://www.geocities.com/
Lectures:
Bumochir, Dulam. "Shamanism in Mongolia." School of International Training at the University of the Humanities premises, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Mar. 2008.
Mend-Oyo, T. "Morin Khuur, not just a music instrument." School of International Training at the University of the Humanities premises, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. 21 Apr. 2008.
Patrick, Father. "Catholicism in Modern Mongolia." Catholic Compound, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. Mar. 2008.
Sandagjey, E. "Khomii: Mongolian Traditional Throat Singing." School of International Training at the University of the Humanities premises, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. 23 Apr. 2008.
Uranchimed, Ts. "Ancient and Contemporary Art in Mongolia." School of International Training premises at the University of the Humanities, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. 29 Apr. 2008.
Interviews conducted by the author:
Alexander. 2008. Formal conversation with author.
Bayan Uul, Dornod; Mongolia. May, 25.
Bayermaa. 2008. Interview by author.
Bayan Uul, Dornod; Mongolia. May, 20.
Chantal. 2008. Interview by author at the Mahayana Center NGO
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. April, 25.
Deggie. 2008. Interview with author.
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. June, 2.
Erdentorch. 2008. Interview by author.
Onderkhan, Khentii; Mongolia. May, 18.
Ganbold. 2008. Interview with author.
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. May, 31.
Tsetseg. 2008. Interview by author.
Onderkhan, Khentii; Mongolia. May, 17.
Zaya. 2008. Interview with author.
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. May, 29.
Zorigtbaatar. 2008. Interview by author.
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. May, 13.
Zorigtbaatar. Ritual observations by author.
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. May, 29.
SKY DOOR OPEN.....P.S. there are literally over 70 long and informative footnotes missing from this blog if it feels like there are holes, my apologies, there's only so much copying & pasting a person can do before they feel like they're gonna kill themselves.
An American in Mongolia: Part XIX
The Urban Shaman as a Metaphor for Transforming Mongolia
I went to Mongolia because I wanted to have all of my preconceived notions about Mongolia, Central Asia, Soviet Satellite states, Asia, Orientalism, “the exotic other,” my own ethnic identity, “belonging,” Genghis Khan, furry hats, horseback riding, the developing world, the archetypes and stereotypes of being a foreigner, being a tourist, and being a seeker eradicated. The experience of existing in Mongolia amongst Mongolians and the ensuing process of writing about that experience provided me with just that. I wrote this essay because I saw an interesting phenomenon, that of the Urban Shaman, that I wanted to explore further, and this investigation had the effect of turning all of my rigidity into fluidity. All and any of my inferences are open-ended and relatively uncertain. If I were to try and come up with conclusive conclusions, I fear I would run the risk of denying the complexity of those who I had the privilege of interacting with in Mongolia. It would be an injustice to the weighty and acute effect that they had upon me. That said, all told, of the six self-identifying shamans who I had an opportunity to interview, five fit the Mongolian qualifications of “shaman.” My interviews were split evenly between urban and rural shamans. The urban subject of my first interview, Zorigtbaatar was questionable insofar as fitting these qualifications, so to be safe I will place him within the category of “non-conventional.” However, the constructed sub-categories traditionally and contemporarily attributed to the different kinds of shamanism can never encompass the smooth variability inherent in its cosmology or practice. Therefore, I would like to propose a new shamanic color identification. Rainbow shamans may be those who have integrated the practices or information from outside of Mongolia, or outside of their own color or ethnic tradition into their practices. Otherwise she might have made her ritual appropriate in a fashionable urban context and deviated from tradition. She could have no spiritual relationship or be an exploiter of the impoverished, she could be a performer for tourists, or she could have an undefined spiritual relationship and call herself a shaman regardless of the “legitimacy” of that claim. In short, a rainbow shaman can be whatever she wants. I think that the rainbow shaman in Ulaanbaatar can serve as a metaphor for transitioning Mongolia today.
If Mongolia can reconfigure itself, and by that I mean if Mongolians can organize themselves to play an active role in the amelioration of their own suffering by addressing their own needs: spiritual, political, social, ethical, emotional and economic—with the stabilizing support of rich, inimitable Mongolian tradition, shamans, the politicians, and the help being offered from the outside—then they can ensure their future status within the greater context of the future global landscape. Mongolia has the potential to be whatever its constituency decides it wants to be collectively. This is a very vulnerable, mutable, and yet propitious position. If this potentiality is to be manifested in the manner that Mongolians desire and decide, they must re-examine their connections to their ancestors and the land that they have been tied to since the promulgation of their culture in hopes of developing—for themselves—a symbiotic praxis of self-determination.
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