Yoga in the Firelight: A Cozy At-Home Evening Routine

Have you ever noticed how different movement feels when you do it at home?

Not in a mirrored studio.

Not beneath bright lights.

Not keeping pace with a clock or a screen.

Just you, your own body, and the quiet of your living room.

There is something deeply comforting about choosing to move without leaving the house. The gym has its place, of course. Community, equipment, structure — all of it can be energizing and supportive. But there are days or evenings when what we need isn’t intensity or instruction. It’s intimacy. With ourselves. Space to feel the full weight and expanse of our own limbs. Space to stretch without comparison. Space to move because it feels good right now, not because it’s scheduled.

At home, there’s no risk of exercise becoming about performance.

You notice the way your feet press into the floor.

The way your spine lengthens when you lift your arms.

The way your breath naturally deepens when you slow down.

There are no machines humming in the background. No music you didn’t choose. Just the subtle sounds of the room around you — the settling of wood, the rhythm of your own breathing, perhaps the quiet curiosity of a pet who wanders over to investigate what you’re doing.

Animals, especially, seem to understand this kind of movement. Stretching without self-consciousness. Resting when rest is needed. Joining in simply because you are there on the floor. Their presence has a way of softening the effort. A reminder that movement can be playful. Natural. Unforced.

And then there is warmth.

I imagine the steady, golden warmth of a fire glowing nearby. The light that flickers across the ceiling and casts everything in softness. It creates an atmosphere that makes you want to hang out a little longer in a stretch, to lie back at the end of your practice and let your body fully release.

When we move at home, we are using our own breath as rhythm. Using our own space as sanctuary. Hopefully, the gym or studio feels like a sanctuary for you in its own way.

In The Slow Life village, movement often looks like this — gentle, unhurried, woven into an ordinary evening.

This story is about one of those nights.

A glowing fire.

A quiet yoga practice.

Two small kittens who believe the mat belongs to them, too.

Settle in.

Let your body soften.

And step into a warm room where movement and stillness meet.

🎧 💜 If you'd like to listen, instead of read - the narrated podcast version of “Yoga in the Firelight” is available HERE🎧

🕯 💜 SHOP The Slow Life HERE 💌

This story is called Yoga in the Firelight, and it’s about a time for movement, relaxation partners, and a mind free of clutter.

I kneel down in front of my fireplace in the living room and begin to arrange the kindling, stacking the small pieces in a neat pyramid around the paper.

Striking a long match, I watch the flame flicker to life, its glow tiny for now. I touch it to the dry paper beneath the wood, and the fire catches easily. A soft crackling sound fills the room, and a golden colour begins to spread across the walls.

I’ve just gotten home, and the house was warm to begin with, but I want the beauty of the fire to look at and the wood heat to take away the last of the chill from being outside.

I sit back on my heels, watching as the flames grow stronger. Heat radiates outward, and I rub my hands together, already feeling the warmth seep into my skin. Behind me, I hear the soft padding of tiny paws against the wooden floor and onto the soft rug. A small, curious meow follows.

I turn to find my two kittens, sitting side by side near the fireplace. Their fur gleams in the light—Crumble, a short-haired brown tabby, and Rucifee, his long-haired twin. They watch the fire with wide, fascinated eyes, their tiny bodies still except for the occasional flick of a tail.

I know what else will bring warmth back into my body. I smile at them and push myself up. “Alright, little ones. It’s time for some movement,” I say softly, rolling my shoulders back.

Unrolling my yoga mat in front of the fire, I breathe in deeply, the warmth already loosening my muscles. My living room is a space that feels cozy, but is open and spacious at the same time. The mat is thick and soft beneath my feet. The kittens approach cautiously, sniffing at the edges of it, but they’re starting to understand that this is my space. They settle down just beside the mat, curling their tails around their tiny paws.

I begin with Mountain Pose, standing tall with my feet sturdy underneath me, grounding myself as I inhale deeply. I hear my kittens do the same in their sleeping spots beside me. The fire crackles in the background, and I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the growing heat against my skin.

I lift my arms overhead, stretching upward, feeling the space in my body expand. Then, I slowly reach down, my back straight, and start into the flow of my version of Sun Salutations. As I fold forward, my hands reach towards the floor, and my back feels a release with the gentle pull of my weight. I keep my breathing fluid, which helps my body melt into the poses. I step back into a plank position, not holding it for long on this day. Lowering myself a little bit at a time, I like to feel the control in my body.

As I push my chest up into Upward-Facing Dog, my heart opens, and I tilt my chin slightly towards the ceiling, breathing in even more deeply. The firelight moves across the ceiling, so I take a few breaths to watch it dance.

Moving into Downward-Facing Dog, I glance sideways and catch sight of Crumble stretching in almost the same shape—his tiny body arching as he pushes his front paws forward, tail high in the air, before settling back in beside his brother.

I smile at his perfect form and watch as Rucifee takes his turn, stretching his body into Cat Pose. Inspired, I transition into the same shape, coming onto my hands and knees, rounding my spine and pressing my hands firmly into the mat. My breath moves naturally out of me with the motion, before slowly expanding my lungs with an inhale again.

I follow their movements for a while, copying their effortless grace. When one of them stretches one leg behind himself, I shift into a modified Tiger Pose, lifting one leg and extending my opposite arm forward. The kittens, in turn, begin to watch me with calming interest, their heads tilting as they observe me. They seem content with these shared moments of steady breathing and flow.

As I continue moving through gentle twists and mindful movements, the fire seems to do the same. Both my mind and body are quiet, leaving space for the sounds of the subtle shifts of the wood and the quietest breaths of my two relaxation partners nearby.

Ready to bring my practice to a close, I ease myself down onto my back, pulling a soft blanket over me. The fabric is warm from sitting near the fire, and I sink into the mat under its comfort. I straighten my legs, resting them close to the outer edge of my mat, letting my feet drop open in full release. My arms mirror my legs and I open my palms to the sky, leaving my fingers loose and relaxed. 

As if on cue, knowing that they’ve been welcomed to join me at this point in this restful position in the past, I feel tiny paws pressing gently into me as one circles once before settling down on my tummy. The other curls up beside me, tucking himself into the space between my arm and my body. They’re warm and soft, and their breathing is slow and steady, like mine.

I stare up at the firelight on the ceiling for a few rounds of breathing. My thoughts are only in this moment, just focusing on what I see above me. The colours and the way they move. Just focusing on what I hear around me. Crackling from the fireplace, and breathing from my own chest and the beings who snuggle against me.

Even with the small one on top of me, my body feels weightless, my mind free of clutter.

I close my eyes and savour the stillness of this time that I have. This time to relax. This time to breathe. This time to let go.

I wish you sweet dreams.