Encountering Oud (by Lee Nichol)

Some years back, I was experimenting with combinations of essential oils. This was partly from simple curiosity and partly from the enjoyment of the various fragrances. I had narrowed my supplier down to one company in California which was justifiably known as the best source for high-quality essential oils. One day on their web site, I noticed something new: Assam agarwood oil. What got my attention was the fact that this oil was roughly 12 times more expensive than anything else in their inventory. What could warrant such a price, I wondered. As I read the description various things jumped out – “animalic”, “urinaceous”, “musky”, “an acquired taste for the unaccustomed Westerner”. Well, with all that much fuss, this must be something worth checking out!

When I received and opened the 1ml vial, I was completely shocked. “Unaccustomed Westerner” indeed! I will never forget that first moment, that first whiff of Oud. The truth is, that first encounter was not especially pleasant. I thought, “What on earth have I just spent all this money on?” My next thought was what it would take to wash it off. About that time I got a phone call, which lasted ten minutes or so. When the call was over, I returned to sniffing the Oud. Suddenly, different. Still borderline revolting, but now interesting, complicated. Another ten minutes in, and I could not stop sniffing it. It was like something I knew from another time, another world. Something simultaneously repulsive and irresistibly alluring. Something profoundly nourishing that until now I didn’t know was missing.

I have since learned a good deal more about Oud, and become correspondingly more selective about my purchases. That first vial was not particularly good quality, but neither was it the trash that is easily pawned off as Oud on the internet. It was authentic Assam, albeit cultivated, and served me well as an introduction.

Since then I have been exposed to a wider selection including Malaysian, Indonesian, Laotian, Burmese, Bornean, and Chinese Ouds, wild-harvested and cultivated, sinking-grade and standard grade. In short, the world of Oud has been presented to me in all its delicious and labyrinthine complexity.

Part of what I have learned is that you get what you pay for (assuming of course, the honesty and reliability of your sources). The least expensive Ouds are sometimes pleasant enough, but only briefly (two hours max), and utterly lacking in dimensionality. Mid-grade oils begin to display noticeable complexity and can last numerous hours. They also begin to hint at the mystery that Oud can be, that strangeness that begins to open the heart.

The best Ouds evoke a sense of sacredness. They are heart-rending, then heart-breaking, bringing tears. Their dimensionality borders on the infinite – it is impossible to completely fathom them, to ferret out every nuance. There is always more, and again more. They will last eight hours at least, sometimes up to thirty-six hours, confounding and upending one’s assumptions about what Oud even is. You begin to feel that the Oud is alive. You begin to feel that you have been granted temporary access to the very nectar of the Creator.

These may sound like the ravings of a madman. In one sense this is probably true. Oud will bring one to one’s knees, pushing aside other matters of seeming importance. It reorients in such fashion that some might indeed think you mad! But is it madness to penetrate time differently, to allow movement into a different dimension, to open oneself to the promptings of creation itself?

This is an old, old question.

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