Three Outstanding Gifts to Purchase Your Loved Ones on Black Friday

If you are going shopping on Black Friday, my first advice to you is do not get killed at Walmart. Now that that's out of the way, I will tell you what you should buy.

Nearly a month ago, I reached the auspicious age of 27.  This is a multiple of 108 and the total of 3 cubed and I am very happy about it.  I was also very happy about the thoughtful and generous gifts that the Boatman presented me with.  27 years old, more than a decade into my yoga career, and I am not beyond presents.  Oh well.  I'm okay with that.

Here are the gifts from the Boatman.

Item One:  Prestigious Literature

 
The featured book is called "I Heart Female Orgasm."  It is an extraordinary orgasm guide by Dorian Solot and Marshall Miller, a couple who have experienced and inspired many female orgasms all across America and in their own bedroom.  As you see in the picture, the pages have astounded and blown me away.  Here's a link where you can buy it: HEARTING FEMALE ORGASM  Dan Savage once said that God didn't put an exclamation point at the end of the Female Orgasm.  Well, sometimes he or she does, and sometimes he or she doesn't.  This book helps us learn how and why.

Item Number Two:  A toy. 

This toy was made by "California Exotic Novelties."  Maybe you can guess what it is and give yourself a prize.  The Boatman bought it at Halifax's excellent sexual merchandise and book store Venus Envy, located on 1598 Barrington Street.  A couple months ago, I tried to sign up for a workshop there on the Extraordinary Female Orgasm, but not enough people signed up!  Sad.  And yet the fallatio workshop was full.  Figures.  Well, maybe next time.

Item Number Three:  More Prestigious Literature

This captivating book is called, "What's your poo telling you," and it's written by Josh Richman and Anish Seth, M.D.  The Boatman has never dated anyone as fascinated with poo as I am.  He knew I would love this book and he was right.  On the front cover, the authors promise "Loads of facts about your health."  And They honour this promise and I have no complaints.  Each short chapter holds a wealth of information about the myriad variations of scatological formations that you may witness before flushing.  Following a compelling description, Dr. Stool weighs in on the potential causes of your poop situation be it a Monster Poo, Rambo Poo, a Sneak Attack, Déjà Poo, Soft Serve, Number Three, Camouflage Poo, or Many Many More.
 
Here's Dr. Stool's website

Perhaps you've heard the yogis say that the optimal stool should float, and that a sinking stool contains toxins.  Well, Dr. Stool suggests that the reasons for floating are Gas and Fat.  So maybe the sinkers aren't so bad.  That's a relief.

Ashtangis planning on going to Mysore might benefit from this book as their innards adapt to the new and exciting climate.  Just a thought.

And on that note, I'll leave you with a nice excerpt from "What's Your Poo Telling You?"

It's possible that if you've already been to India, you'll be able to relate to this type of Poop: Number Three.
 
Also known as Butt Piss, Liquid Poo, The Runs, Oil Spill, Hershey Squirts....  And let's save the other synonyms for when you buy the book!
 
Here's the Low-Down from page 40:

"Number Three 

Although you know that you need to sit down for this rear deposit, Number Threes come in a liquid form and have little to no texture.  When passing one, you feel as if you are urinating from the wrong side.  A Number Three is often a violent discharge, sometimes with very little warning, and may often be accompanied by tremendous gaseous emissions.  As you feel its sudden onset, your sense of relief that you made it to the toilet in time is quickly replaced by the ill feeling associated with the release of a Number Three.  The explosiveness is so severe that it often results in brown splatter hitting the underside of the toilet seat.  At times, the splatter is so great that you have to wipe remnant off your butt cheeks when you are finished. Number Threes are not pleasant." 

Well said, as far as I'm concerned.  Get your own copy of WIYPTY and read Dr. Stool's eloquent explanation of Number Threes.  In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving to the American folks, and it wouldn't hurt to Look Before you Flush!

The End.

Thank you so much to my love the Boatman for these delightful gifts.

What's Your Poo Telling You?

Twitter: @mypelvicfloor  

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook 

$2.99 Self-Help Book, I Let Go

 

Spiritual Beard, Secular Vagina

Three Ways to Make the World a Better Place

Why I am different from Margaret Atwood

No One Could Have Given More: In Loving Memory of John T. Smith

I just attended the funeral of a lovely man named John Smith.  Despite his extremely common name, John was an extraordinary person who I met while I was teaching and practicing at the local yoga shala. He died quite unexpectedly at age 59, of a brief and sudden illness.   

The church where the funeral was held was absolutely packed.  John clearly touched many many people.  

When they played the hymns, you could hardly hear anyone singing because everyone was crying. 

At the yoga studio, John practiced in the far left-hand corner, next to the window.  In warm, or at least reasonably uncatastrophic weather, he took his bike, which he also took on treks across a number of countries, along with his dear wife.  Whenever I subbed Mysore, I would arrive on my own bike at the very last minute.

“You don’t know what quarter to six means, do you?” he’d joke.  Then he would watch in feigned annoyance as I struggled to unlock the door.  John greeted everyone with a bright face and sincere interest.  

No one was spared from the teasing, but I don’t think anyone wanted to be. One day as I unrolled my mat in the Mysore room, John turned to me and pointed to the name that was printed on my yoga mat.

“Good thing your name’s there!” he said with a big smile. “Otherwise we wouldn’t know who you were!”
 
I started to say something back, but then Seth the instructor said, “Sssshh!” from across the room.  Over the years, it seemed that John caused many of us to be “Ssshhed” many times.  Probably none of us minded. 
 
Besides being a yogi and avid cyclist, John was a dedicated practitioner of karate and tai chi.  In the evenings, he would often do more than one karate class.  Some mornings, he would hobble in, favouring one side of his body or the other.
 
“You alright, John?” I’d ask.

“Oh yah,” he’d say.  “Just a little sore.”  Some years back, John had had hip replacements in both hips.  This never seemed to hold him back.  It was refreshing to see John practice.  He was delighted at what he was able to do, while maintaining true equanimity when faced with his limitations.  Due to his enthusiastic cycling and karate endeavours, his teacher Seth used to recommend that he do an intense psoas stretch before beginning his practice. 

Once, Seth had been away for a while and I noticed that John hadn’t done the psoas stretch for a couple of days. 

“So how about the psoas stretch?” I asked.

“Oh yah, better do that,” he said.  He grabbed a chair, bent one knee and slid his foot and shin against the wall.  For thirty seconds on each side he clutched the chair, grimacing in pure agony.  Then he stood up and continued his practice.  When others spoke of their struggles with various postures, John would shake his head, smile and say, “I don’t care.  I can do Baddha Konasana.”  No matter what he was talking about, there was always that twinkle in his eye, as though he was witnessing some sort of miracle. 
 

Baddha Konasana: John took great pride and delight in being able to do the pose, despite two hip replacements!

Every once in awhile, his replacement hips would pop out of place, usually in Trikonasana (triangle pose).

“Oh well,” he’d say.  “They’re not mine.  Can’t feel a thing.”

Listening to the tributes at the funeral, it seemed as though John was not someone who held back or did things moderately.  He gave everything had to every endeavour he took on:  family, friendships, yoga, work, karate, travel, cooking, chutney and jam...  For lack of a less cheesy sentence, it was very sad, but also very inspirational.

As a friend put it at the reception, “It makes you want to try harder.” 

Once John brought me a little jar of strawberry jam and it was absolutely delicious.   He was always trading chutneys and curry with other yoga practitioners.  I think that John was able to thoroughly demonstrate that where love and generosity are involved, there’s no need to hold back.  I hope to be able to truly remember this. 

Although I don’t know John’s family, I wanted to give them a card to express my gratitude for John’s presence in my life, and to offer my condolences.  It took me a long time to choose the card.  In the end I picked out  one with a picture of a silhouetted person on a sunsetted beach and her golden retriever.  Below the picture were the words, “No one could have possibly given...”

Inside the card was the word, “More.”

I thought that this message really captured John.  This morning before the funeral, as I was filling out the card, I turned it over and looked at the back.  There were the words, “Pet condolence greetings.”  The card company had created a line of Pet Sympathy Greeting Cards, to console people who had lost their dogs, and cats, and goldfish and guinea pigs.  I had purchased a pet sympathy card in memory of my friend John, a vibrant and remarkable human being.  Shoot. 

At first I thought that I wouldn’t use the card, and that I would just write something in the funeral home’s online guest book.  Then I realized that the words were actually right.  And John always took immense pleasure in catching and making fun of me in one of my typical socially awkward mishaps. 

So I thought I’d give John that satisfaction and I filled out the condolences card meant for the death of a pet.

Dear John, I do believe that nobody could have given more than you. I wish that I could see you one more time.  Though this is not to be, I will do my best to try harder and to give more.  I will think of you during my practice, and during my days.

Love, Erica.

 

Dog Friend in Gokarna, February 2016