ONG diggity...

ONG diggity...

ONG

“Those that know, know.
Those that don’t know are
about to find out.”
-RAMEO-

While a student at UCLA, I spent a considerable amount of time exploring the rare book collections. I suppose it was a hobby of sorts, an escape from the drudgery and tedium of college work. Whatever my motivation, over time I found myself returning to this sanctuary again and again.

In the summer of 1991, during my final quarter as an undergraduate at UCLA, I was sitting quietly in my favorite rare-book reading nook. I was doing nothing in particular. I wasn’t reading, I wasn’t studying, I wasn’t fantasizing about anyone. I was just staring off into space enjoying the moment. Suddenly, the room began to move. Yes, the room began to move. I wasn’t stoned, drunk, or otherwise incapacitated so I assumed that we were in the throes of a classic southern California tremor. Reacting reflexively, I scrambled to the nearest table and slid underneath. Seconds later, shelves toppled and books littered the floor. The chair I had been sitting on was buried beneath the debris. All I could think of was how those grammar school earthquake drills had actually paid off.

When the earth stopped moving, the dust settled, and my thoughts returned to their somewhat freakish and peculiar state of abnormality, I noticed something quite extraordinary. Of all the books scattered about the room only one lay open. This in itself seemed strange but it wasn’t what most intrigued me. Within the pages of this book were numerous illustrations of what appeared to be multi-colored ravens. I plucked the book from the pile and inspected it closely. The images were vivid and rich and the print of such an unusual quality that the colorful lifelike ravens appeared to be moving and ready to fly. Beneath the illustrations were what looked like poetic verses printed in cursive style. I was unable to identify the language but guessed it to be of far-eastern origin.

I can’t say what compelled me to conceal the book and hurriedly leave the library. I am not by nature a thief, but something, a sense, a voice, an intuition told me to grab the book and run. So I did. Luckily, the earthquake had so addled and distracted the library staff that no one even noticed my exit. I ran to my apartment, secured my loot, and collapsed onto the floor. I was excited, but I wasn’t sure why. As I caught my breath and organized my thoughts I wondered about what I’d done. Why had I done it? And exactly what was it that I had stolen? Did it even have value? I lay motionless on the floor as my mind reeled from the day’s events. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

Several months later, after having copied the book, I returned the original to the library from which I had taken it. I then took a copy of the copy to an Ayurvedic doctor in San Diego. He explained that the book was an ancient and rare Sanskrit treatise on the subject of Ayurveda, an early system of Indian medicine. He said the book contained curative formulas for physical ailments and numerous all-natural food blends that were purported to expand consciousness and evolve spirituality. I wanted to know more but he refused to translate the text and even attempted to keep my copy. As I fled his establishment he shouted something unintelligible in an angry and vituperative tone.

Over the next several years I spent a considerable amount of time studying Sanskrit and attempting to decipher various passages of the book. Thanks to the internet this wasn’t a wholly impossible task. In fact, after a while I became quite conversant on the subject of Ayurvedic medicine and even became comfortable enough to experiment with several of the formulas that I had discovered. One in particular, an all-natural blend of common and readily available food ingredients was especially exciting. It was a simple yet powerful mixture that simultaneously energized, soothed, stimulated, and calmed. And it managed this seemingly paradoxical feat with no post-experience discomfort. It seemed too good to be true so I tried it again, and again. The experience was consistent. Eventually I began sharing it with friends and the response was unanimously affirmative. I was on to something. I was on to something big.

Demand grew exponentially as word of the formula’s qualities began to spread. I decided the blend was so good that it warranted commercialization. I devised production methods which separated the active ingredients from the inert and began producing a refined version of the original formula in a base of chicory sweet. I decided to call it Ong. I hope you enjoy!

     
       -T-