NEW TOS Spock Does Yoga PG 1/1
yoga...@gmail.com
Series: TOS
Date: 8/30/06
Archive: ASC
Summary: The crew of the Enterprise learns some asanas.
Spock Does Yoga
By Chaturanga Dandasana
Author's note: Hi all, thanks for reading my fic. I got this idea in my
yoga
class the other day. I just started yoga and I felt so calm and relaxed
and
I thought, "Wouldn't we all have less problems if everyone did yoga?"
And
then I remembered Trek, beause someone once told me that Trek was all
about
people getting along and I thought, maybe in the future, *everyone*
does
yoga and that's how come everyone gets along. So I wrote this story
because
I think it's a really good idea. I wasn't sure which crew to use, but
my
friend told me that Krik and Spock are the most popular Trek characters
ever
and so I decided to write this. BTW, this is like my first attempt at
Trek
fanfic, but you can read my other stuff. I also write LOTR and HP. You
can
find all my fic at fanfiction.net. Hope you enjoy! (I hope I did the
header thingie right!)
Author's note #2: Oh yeah, I need a beta reader. I don't know anyone in
this
fandom, and none of my regular beta readers know anything about Trek,
so if
you like my stuff and you want to read before anyone else, email me!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything excep tthe idea btu it's a really goo
idea!
---
It was crowded in yoga that first Wednesday after the captain and
Admiral
[I'll come up with a name later] announced yoga would now be mandatory
for
everyone on the Enterprise instead of just come if you want to come and
an
order is an order, so if the captain and admiral order something, then
the
crew had to do it. That's why yoga was so crowded on that first
Wednesday.
Anyway, in his enthusiasm for setting up for the class and getting the
best
place at the front of the room near the really pretty and lithe
instructor,
the admiral's mohawk somehow got caught in Chapel's French cut panties
while
she was attempting crow pose. She thudded to her pale blue mat, rolling
flat
on her back and flopping into corpse pose.
Meanwhile, Spock sobbed in the corner, clutching his frisbee, wildly
disconsolate because no one would play with him. He'd wandered into the
gym
looking for a partner, but apparently no one recognized that playing
frisbee
was like a secret handshake -- it was how a Vulcan signaled he was
ready to
take a lover. Or perhaps they did know about it - that thought was why
he
was sobbing. None of the men would even give it a try, and so many of
them
scowled at him for suggesting it. He'd followed Chapel into yoga so the
football players would stop giving him melvins as they passed him in
the
corridor on their way to lift weights.
He was still standing alone in the hallway when Kirk and McCoy showed
up.
Both men were wearing tight cotton thigh-length shorts that showed off
their
rippling musles, and tank tops that revealed nicely toned shoulders and
biceps. The thin material of their tanks left nothing to the
imagination,
and Spock found it difficult to breathe. He dropped his frisbee, kicked
off
his black loafers and with wild and unVulcan-like abandon, he tore off
his
white gym socks.
"Hi guys!" Spock said. Kirk and McCoy looked at him with some surprise.
"Why, Spock," Kirk said enthusiastically, "you never come to yoga."
"Well, I heard this was the place to be." Spock nodded towards
Christine,
still doing an excellent corpse pose on her pale blue mat. "Where can I
find
a mat?"
"Over there in the corner." McCoy pointed. As he lifted his arm, Spock
got a
good, long whiff of McCoy's deodrant. It smelled like peaches.
Spock hurried over to choose a rolled mat from the huge basket full of
different colored mats of various thicknesses. He chose a yellow one
because
it reminded him of the little gold flecks in Kirk's eyes. Two more
people
were coming in, so he rushed to unroll his mat next to McCoy, at the
end of
the third row along the wall.
The instructor, Lani, a slender twig of a woman in cropped black pants
and a
tight-fitting tank top the color of plomeek soup, arrived to teach the
class. She sidled between mats to the front of the room, tying up her
long
black hair into a ponytail as she went.
"Good morning," she exclaimed. "Welcome to the Monday morning flow
class.
Let's sit cross legged on your mats." She bent to a console and started
some
odd
music; Spock identified some sort of string instrument and a drum. It
didn't
seem to be like the music he'd heard other humans listen to in the rec
room.
Uncertain of what to do next, Spock looked around as Lani gave simple
instructions -- relax, begin to take slow even breaths. He obeyed and
watched the other ten people packed into the narrow room, especially
Kirk
and McCoy. Then Lani said to close their eyes. The last thing he saw,
as
they all rose into their first downward dog pose, was
Chapel's wide posterior, sheathed in "those dime store underwear," as
Uhura
often called them. Spock thought the cut was not so flattering as
Chapel
believed, and therefore he agreed with Uhura's assessment.
Spock tried to follow instructions - tilt hips, heels to the floor,
stretch!
breathe! - while sneaking a peek at McCoy. He noticed Leonard had
perfect
form, his hands and feet planted flat on the floor, glutes tightly
wrapped
in white cotton and pointed at the ceiling. Beyond him, Kirk was doing
the
same, his hair gently brushing his golden mat. Spock saw the monogram
in the
corner of the mat -- a custom job. Obviously, Spock had wasted too much
time
in the science lab or in his quarters meditating. This yoga must be
worth
the awkward postures.
His next opportunity came after two sun salutations, as the class rose
to a
standing position at the tops of their mats.
"Chair pose," Lani sang out as the 'music' clanged and drummed and
strummed.
"Bend the knees, like you're sitting in a chair. Arms swing up,
shoulders
drop, and shine the heart center forward. Sink deeper with each
breath."
Spock sat, and sank, and watched Kirk and McCoy sitting and sinking and
showing their firm, rippling haunches to the back row. He knew where he
needed to put his mat for the next class, now.
Lani, who was again walking around the room slowly, hesitated next to
Spock's mat. "Are you having difficulty, Mr. Spock? If you're out of
breath
you can rest in child's pose."
"I am -- fine."
She passed him and helped McCoy with his posture, placing a hand on his
buttock and pushing gently downward.
Spock succumbed to being breathless by toppling backward to the floor.
He
lay gasping, arms and legs spread out not unlike Chapel's had been
before
class.
"Excellent corpse pose, Mr. Spock." Lani headed for the front of the
room,
her butt cheeks bouncing like playful puppies. "Okay, everyone, we're
warmed
up now - you should be feeling that energy and warmth throughout your
body.
Now we're ready for some work! Just a reminder, go at your own pace --
you
can always come back to child's pose to catch your breath."
McCoy leaned toward Spock. "You okay, Spock?"
Spock couldn't peel his eyes from the doctor's muscular thigh. Almost
in
reach! "Fine."
The admiral and Chapel, who were on the two mats directly in front of
Spock,
glared back at them. The admiral swept his long purple mohawk out of
his
eyes and put a finger to his lips. Chapel lost her balance and thudded
down
on her mat again.
"That woman could lose her balance while she's shackled upright against
a
wall," McCoy muttered as the music changed to something more upbeat,
with
chanting and clapping.
"I always wondered what you did in sickbay when things were quiet,"
Kirk
said, putting out his arms and swan-diving into a forward bend. Spock
thought he could see Kirk's sac through a gap in the leg of his shorts.
The
exertion had resulted in a sheen of sweat over most of Kirk's visible
skin
surface; as Lani had the class progress from
mountain pose to a squat to sitting on the floor, Kirk glistened.
Still lying flat on his back, Spock stared up at the ceiling. He felt
warm
all over, so very warm, as if he were in a warm tropical paradise with
palm
trees and warm sun, and not in the Enterprise's otherwise not warm
cargo
bay. Spock's blood was rushing through his body, very hot and warm, and
he
felt very light all over. He felt like he was
floating on a warm summer breeze.
In front of him, Kirk was pushing up into bridge pose -- shoulder
blades
gathered beneath him, hips angled towards the ceiling, and his strong
tree
trunk thighs supporting his torso. Spock rolled over on his side,
admiring
his captain. He had no idea Jim was this strong and... flexible. Spock
ran
his tongue lightly over his lips. He wondered what Jim's skin would
taste
like.
"Now, everyone, bring your knees to your chest and rock back and
forth,"
Lani said. She walked between the mats, her bare feet making very
little
noise. She leaned down and touched Spock on the shoulder gently.
"Spock, are
you all right?" Her touch was warm, caressing, and when she leaned over
like
that, her breasts swayed beneath her tank top like two overripe
watermelons.
Like McCoy, she smelled like peaches. Spock just wanted to eat her up;
he
bet she tasted really, really good. Like peaches. Spock liked peaches.
Especially on warm days in the sun. He wondered if Jim liked peaches.
"You just need to breathe--" somehow, Lani stretched 'breathe' into
12.5syllables "-- your way through the pose, Mr. Spock. You can do it,
but don't
force yourself. Do what your body wants you to do. Search out the
tightness.
Begin a dialogue with yourself. After all, isn't that what you're here
for?"
And with a smile that relieved a
mouthful of teeth, Lani straightened up, and went towards McCoy's mat.
"All
right, everyone, now are we ready for the wheel pose? Remember, the
strength
comes from your legs, and you need to push, push, push *up*, and don't
forget to take your hips with you. Arms should be in push-up mode--"
Spock turned to watch Kirk, who was forming a perfect arc with his
body, his
legs hip distance apart and parted, and his head a good six inches
above the
floor, his neck exposed for what it was: a perfect expanse of creamy
vanilla
delicious lickable skin. Maybe Jim didn't taste like peaches. Maybe he
tasted like... ice-cream.
Spock tried to push himself up into the wheel, but gave up after six
tries.
All around him, he miserably noted, colleagues -- including Chapel --
were
pushing themselves up into graceful semi-circles with little hint of
pain or
agony. Chapel's breath was even and her eyes were clothes. The admiral
lifted one leg straight up in the air. Spock
inhaled sharply. Now *that*, he thought with some pique, was just
showing
off. And even worse, Jim was watching the admiral. Admiringly. Alarmed,
Spock tried one more time to push himself into the wheel position, but
ended
up wrenching some previously unknown muscle in his back. Moaning, Spock
settled back into corpose pose, determined not to move under any
circumstances short of a red alert.
"Relax," Lani sang out to the class. "Bring your knees to your chest,
rock
back and forth."
Spock was too exhausted. He just lay there, watching Kirk rock back and
forth. Spock wondered what it would be like to rock like that, with
fearless
and joyous abandon, to feel his pelvic bones grind against the mat, to
feel
his sit bones and muscles slapping against the floor (or maybe someone
else?). Breathing was no longer an option.
Spock started to wheeze. He no longer felt warm or light, but heavy and
lost. He looked at the captain, but Kirk was looking at McCoy and McCoy
was
looking at Chapel, who seemed to have given up on rocking in favor of
the
forward bend.
In that moment, Spock realized that what he wanted more than anything
else
in the whole entire universe was for Kirk to admire his forward bend.
The next sun salutation, Spock went through the motions as best he
could,
holding himself in plank, stepping forward (everyone else just hopped
to
the top of the mat, as if it were the easiest thing in the world to
fold in
half in midair), dangling in forward bend with his chest as close to
his
thighs as he could get. It was hot in the room,
so hot, and McCoy smelled like sweaty peaches. Kirk glowed as he
swooped
his arms up and brought his hands to his chest, then sent them out and
up
and bent down again, to balance himself in a low lunge with left foot
back,
as instructed.
Spock forced his left foot back into the lunge and groaned as the
muscle
he'd pulled knotted up and stabbed him in the back. He fell over in a
heap.
Lani was there at once, and McCoy kept trying to unfold him. "Spock?"
"What -- the hell -- is child's pose?" Spock grinted, determined to
adhere
to the rules.
"It sure ain't what you're doing - this is what's called the 'fetal
position.' Come on, let's get you to sickbay. Chapel, help me -- "
McCoy
was interrupted by a loud thud. "Damn it, girl. Get your space legs
already!"
"It's all right, everyone, keep breathing, Spock is all right - Dr.
McCoy
will take care of him. Now, drop your left heel to the floor and
sloooooowly rise into proud warrior, arms up, shoulders dropped -- "
Spock saw green. And red, and a few other pretty colors. It felt like
all
the Klingon chiropractors in the Empire had paid him a visit. McCoy
levered
him off the floor clumsily. "I'll help," Kirk said, and Spock felt
himself
being lifted and carried. Kirk, who held him by the shoulders, smiled
down
from above, still glistening with sweat.
He smelled like. . . cinnamon. Or maybe cloves. Possibly cloves and
cinnamon, with a little allspice. That would be good with peaches.
"We've got you, Spock. It'll be all right."
"It's not like you to be this flimsy, Spock. Something you want to tell
us?" McCoy asked.
"No."
"Give him a break, Bones. He's never done yoga before. He'll do better
next time."
Spock smiled in spite of himself, then winced to disguise it. Back pain
--
the new frisbee.
*****
Author's note: Oh my God, you like it, you really like it! This is my
first
fic, and I was only gonna keep writing if people liked it, and oh my
god,
you do! I'm so exicted. I was thinking about this story ALL DAY in
school
and couldn't wait until I got home to write some more. This part is
especialy for Jungle Kitty and Wildcat, cuz I found their
fic a couple weeks ago and even though I never saw the show, I really
like
the fic, and Spock is hot. And oh yeah, Kirk is too. I think he's like
that
guy on Boston Legal except in space. So anyway, R&R please, and if you
do,
I'll write more. Promise! Now here's the next part.
*****
"Well, at least you're smiling," Kirk said. The captain had a big smile
too,
and when his thick, luscious lips parted, his teeth were shiny and
white and
reminded Spock of snow-covered mountains. Or gumdrops. It didn't really
matter because Spock liked mountains and gumdrops both. Maybe when his
back
stopped hurting, he and Kirk could go to Switzerland, and eat gumdrops
by
the fire in their rented chalet.
"So do you think you want to give yoga another try?" Kirk leaned
forward
casually, his chest muscles rippiling beneath his tight black t-shirt.
"I am uncertain," Spock said. "It is unnatural for a Vulcan to attempt
to
touch the back of his head to his heel."
"But it opens the chest! It allows air to flow through your body," Kirk
said
enthusiastically. His cheeks were now as red and vibrant as any sunset
Spock
had seen on the Klingon homeworld. Suddenly, he was seized with the
insatiable desire to take Kirk to the Klingon homeworld, and lie with
the
Captain on the --
"Plus it calms you and helps you perceive your relationships with your
surroundings and the people around you, which is why the Admiral
implemented
the regime in the first place," Bones said. Spock fought to keep his
irration with the doctor from overtaking his rational side. Couldn't
the
Doctor *see* that he and Kirk were talking? Where
was the respect anyway?
"I understand completely the benefits of yoga," Spock said as calmly as
he
could. "However, I was thinking perhaps a vacation, maybe even to the
Klingon homeworld--"
Kirk started laughing. "You'd prefer cement beds and wriggling foods to
YOGA?" He shook his head. "And then there's that little detail of us
not
getting along with the Klingons." Then Kirk brightened. His eyes were
round
like bright saucers, and his mouth was very wide, giving an even more
excellent view of his teeth. Gumdrops, Spock
thought. Definitely gumdrops. "You know, Spock, that's a *great*
idea--"
"Vacation?" Spock thought about walking hand in hand with Kirk along
the
beaches of Qo'nos, the hot sands squishing through their toes, and then
they
would roll around in it, and Kirk's sweaty, peach-scented body would be
covered in sand. And then Spock would--
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Bones asked.
Kirk nodded. "We should teach the Klingons yoga."
****
I was so totally busy reading all the feedback all weekend! Sorry this
took
so long to post! But I just had to look up some stuff, cause athencity
matters, yo. Thanks you guys for all the great sugestions and ideas! I
totally think the Klingons would so get into those warrior stances too!
****
Captain's Log, stardate (sorry I don't know how to figure out stardates
I'll
make something up to put here later) - We've arrived at the Klingon
Homeworld and set up our first yoga studio. Because it's a diplomatic
opportunity Starfleet has got on board with the idea, and the admiral
is
doing his best to determine how best to market our chain. We're sure
that
once enough Klingons have started yoga, they'll tell all their friends
and
we'll need to have many studios available. Dr. McCoy has been arguing
with
the admiral over what we'll name our franchise -- the admiral likes
"It's a
Good Day to Lay in Corpse Pose" and Bones insists that "Qapla
Kundalini"
would
be more appealing. Of course, there's a more critical question to
answer at
this early stage. . . .
The tearing noises continued, as did the swearing. A burly warrior
stormed
out of the dressing room with shreds of the yoga pants he had just
purchased
between his fingers. Spock faced him down in silence.
"I demand a refund," the Klingon howled in Spock's face. "You said it
was
the right size!"
"I suggested that you try that size. I did not count on your attempt to
pull
them on over your footwear." Spock pointed at the prominent spike on
the toe
of the nearest Klingon boot. "You tear it, you buy it."
"Is there a problem here?" Kirk came through the bead curtain, glowing
and
sweating and smelling delicious as peach pie a la mode. Spock hoped
that the
Klingon would leave without a fight, so he wouldn't have to go all ponn
farr
on his ass.
Indeed, the Klingon spat a nasty untranslatable word at them and
stomped out
the door, which slammed shut with a furious jingling of the bells
dangling
from the handle. Kirk smiled at Spock. "Well, come on, class just
started."
Spock followed his friend through the bead curtain and was confronted
with a
row of four Klingons in downward dog, sweating and trembling and
whimpering,
all the muscles in their legs twitching. One poor fellow struggled to
get
his heel all the way to the floor, swearing as his foot flattened. And
at
the front McCoy serenely led the class, soft drum music playing in the
background.
Spock followed along. This was his ninety-fourth class since that
fateful
day when he'd gone to yoga for the first time. Now he could execute the
poses with finesse, and even do headstands without falling over. He
thought
that perhaps this might work, doing yoga on the homeworld -- perhaps
they
would even pull a profit once they'd
started another basic flow class.
The class was in fish pose when the first tearing sound occurred. The
Klingon on the far right leaped to his feet, turned about trying to
look at
his own behind, and shrieked. The mood shattered, McCoy turned off the
music
and hurried over to comfort the burly Klingon attempting to cover his
naked
buttocks with his hands. As far as
Spock could tell, he kept screaming because his attempts at modesty
resulted
in his jabbing himself repeatedly with his own hangnails.
It was downhill from there -- a second Klingon leaped up and tried to
keep
the front of his pants closed. Another groped for a sleeve that tore at
the
seam and flapped back and forth across a huge bicep. The third Klingon
remained in fish pose and seemed unable to move, or so he hollered. The
fourth sat up, which was enough to make the back of his pants to pop
open
like a balloon stuck with a pin.
The place emptied as quickly as the Klingons could find their street
clothes
-- armor, whatever -- and that left Spock and Kirk and McCoy to finish
their
asanas alone. When they rose from the final corpse pose McCoy went out
front
and flipped the sign to closed.
"What are you doing? We have another class in fifteen minutes." Kirk
walked
around spritzing the air with peach scented water.
"Jim, this ain't gonna work. We're gonna run out of yoga pants before
we're
in business a week! Maybe we should try again on Andoria."
Andoria. Just the very thought of it made Spock want to get really
angry and
primitive on Kirk, because didn't they have more important things to do
than
set up yoga studios across the galaxy? Warfare, Spock thought
indignantly,
would be less embarassing, humiliating and painful than this yoga
venture,
not to mention more logical. Nothing said "get along people!" quite
like a
neutron bomb. However, Kirk was so enthusiastic, that it was only a
matter
of time before they went to Andoria and opened a Starfleet Yoga Studio
there.
"Andoria," Kirk said thoughtfully. "Do we get along with the
Andorians?"
McCoy considered. "This week?"
"Well, this week doesn't matter. It only matters if we're getting along
with
them when we get to Andoria. Come on, let's go talk about it in my
ready
room," Kirk smacked his lips, and placed his hand on the small of
McCoy's
back. THey left the room, leaving Spock all alone.
Spock rolled over, clutched his thighs and moaned. Everything hurt--his
abdomen, his hamstrings, his gluteus maximus...if he was going to ache
so
much in his nether regions, he mused in a haze of pain, it might as
well be
for something a little more pleasurable than yoga.
"It is not logical for the humanoid body to be distorted and mangled
like a
piece of origami," he mumbled to himself. "I am not, nor will I ever
be, a
yoga master. It is time to face reality."
But of course, being a yoga master wasn't exactly the reason he'd
gotten
himself into this in the first place. Stupid humans--*why* couldn't
they
just play frisbee with him instead?
As he lay doubled over in extreme discomfort, concentrating on
breathing,
Spock slowly became aware that he was no longer alone. A small alien,
barely
a meter high with a greenish-gray complexion, stood near his elbow,
observing him quietly. The creature had a long face and even longer,
pointy
ears. What looked like a tic-tac-toe board adorned the top of his
mostly
hairless head, and in his hand he carried a staff with a bright
phosphorescent top.
"Who are you?" Spock gasped hoarsely.
"Eh?" said the little alien, leaning forward a bit. "Master Yoda am I,
called for me you did."
Spock shook his head, wondering if he was going crazy or if it was
simply
his universal translator acting up again. Either that, or there was
something seriously wrong with the alien's syntax. He tried again."What
did
you say?"
The alien shuffled a few feet to the right, then back again, his brown
burlap robe swaying as he did so. "Master Yoda am I, called for me--"
"I did no such thing," Spock said, breathing a little easier as he
discovered that grabbing his ankles eased the pain a bit. "I mentioned
a
'yoga master', not 'Master Yoda.""
Yoda was unperturbed. "Enunciate more clearly you should, next time. Am
I
here, either way."
It took Spock a second to realize the last thing Yoda said was not a
question. "I am not in need of your services."
Yoda snorted. "Hoo boy. Another one tell me, you should. Buddy, in need
of
much help, you are."
"And I suppose you're just the one to do it," Spock said sarcastically,
figuring this Yoda character, whoever he was, had no intimate knowledge
of
Vulcans and thus he was in no danger of ruining his own or his species'
reputation. (His father would probably challenge him to ritual
self-immolation if he did.)
Instead of answering (for which Spock was grateful as it was taxing his
powers of analysis to figure out Yoda's speech), Yoda leaned over Spock
(Spock flinched at the almost-contact and was mildly surprised when he
caught a whiff of Irish Spring soap emanating from Yoda's robe) and
waved
his hand back and forth. "There, better feeling you should be."
"I fail to see what--" Spock began, then stopped. He *did* feel better.
He
experimentally flexed and then extended his legs, then sat upright. The
pain
was gone. "How did you do that?" he asked, his natural scientific
curiosity
aroused.
"Jedi mind tricks," Yoda answered. "Or is this not the cure looking for
you
were?"
Grateful as he was for the healing, Spock had no intention of sharing
his
woes of lovelornity with this odd little alien. But Yoda was not to be
deterred. He grasped Spock's ear, frowned more deeply than before, and
then
released him. "You will never a yoga master be," he admonished him
sternly.
"But other ways to skin a cat there are."
"I have no wish to remove the epidermis of a feline," Spock said,
shuddering
with distaste.
"This one dumber than looks he is," Yoda muttered. "Never of metaphor
you
heard as exploring in the galaxy you go?" Yoda sighed deeply. "But
lonely
forever you will not be. The Force, always with you be." The tip of his
staff began to glow, brighter and brighter, until even Spock with his
special Vulcan-issue inner eyelid had to look away. When he could open
his
eyes once more, Yoda was gone.
Spock scrambled to his feet.
"Hey, Spock!"
Spock turned to see McCoy hurrying toward him. "Doctor, did you happen
to
see a small green--no, never mind."
"Good to see you up and around," McCoy said, draping his arm familiarly
around Spock's shoulders. "I was a little worried when you took that
last
spill on the mat. We were on our way out and suddenly, we heard this
loud
thud and there you were, doing the best corpse pose you've ever done. I
gotta say, Spock boy, I was worried."
"And I was *very* worried," chimed in Kirk, placing a possesive arm
around
Spock from the other side. "I could be wrong, but somehow I get the
impression that yoga is just not your thing."
"You could say that again," McCoy said, with a hearty laugh. But Spock
knew
they were laughing with him, not at him, so that was all right.
"Actually, I was wondering if maybe another sport would be suitable
instead," Kirk said. "Like, maybe, frisbee?" And he held up the most
perfect, silver frisbee that Spock had ever seen. He flipped it over
proudly
to show that it was embossed in gold with the initials JTK.
"That would be most acceptable," Spock managed to say around the lump
of
happiness in his throat. "But is it a game for three?"
"Let me introduce you to the concept of 'monkey in the middle'," Kirk
said
with a glint in his eye.
Spock had just enough time to send a silent thank you to his surprising
'fairy godmother' and soon, all conversation regrding a new yoga studio
on
Andoria was gone, replaced with Starfleet's latest credo: Make love,
not
war.
~ the end
Ventura33
falling down laughing! Good one.
Ventura33
yoga...@gmail.com
Hey, thanks for the feedback! I suggest a sun salutation -- you'll
finish in mountain pose. :)
Very happy someone enjoyed my little story.
Namaste,
C.D.