A fire dying down, when the house is busy — for a restless night

The window is black, and the glass is cold if you touch it. Every few minutes a piece of wood falls in on itself with a small collapse of sparks. The fire has stopped being flames and is now mostly red shapes that shift and settle.

The dog is asleep on the rug, on the side nearest the heat. The room has gone darker than you noticed, and the light is all low and orange. Somewhere in the house, a door closes and everything goes quiet again.

Notice how much of you has already stopped moving. Notice the places where your body touches the bed, and let them be heavy.

Feel the weight of the blanket on your legs. Let your breathing get slower without deciding to slow it.

There is a smell of woodsmoke in the room that will still be there tomorrow. The ash in the grate is deep and soft and grey at the edges.

Let your upper arms fall wherever gravity puts them. Let your hands be completely still.

Now feel your whole body at once, lying here, being held up. Your elbows can stop being hinges for now.

The heat reaches about a metre from the fire and stops. There is a blanket over your legs that you did not consciously arrange.

Notice how you're sitting. Adjust if you need to. Then settle again. If a worry shows up, name it quietly and let it sit beside you.

Let everything you were holding today stay on the floor beside the bed. Feel your cheeks let go.

Let your breathing do the rest. Nothing here needs following closely.

Just the breath. You can stop listening properly. Sleep.

It works with other people in the house. You do not need silence.

Let this be the last thing you listen to.