I never had a hammock growing up. We had swings when we were little. Some of the swings were store bought, others were improvised from tires or planks and ropes. Still going decades later, my father turned a milk crate into a baby swing for my daughters.
I still remember the exhilaration of going “Higher! Higher!” on the swing at the park; how your body would be almost horizontal with the ground, and the chains that held you up buckled slightly as momentum and gravity waged their war. I still remember the strange dread as the swing was coming back down and you stared the ground in the face and prayed you wouldn’t fall forward, down and out. I don’t think I ever did, but still… the fear… the exhilaration… the wonder…
Many, many, years ago we took the kids on a holiday to a ‘tropical resort’. There were the ubiquitous palm trees swaying on the waving line where the grass meets the sand. And between some of those swaying palms were swaying hammocks. I still remember how ungainly it felt to get ‘onto’ or ‘into’ a hammock. There’s a strange moment when you sort of fall into place, and the brief terror that you might roll right over and out. But then you’re in. You shimmy-shake yourself from sitting to lying, and – eventually – you get yourself into a ‘relaxing’ position. Maybe someone hands you a cool drink or a small child to sit on your stomach, or you produce a book from a bag. Perhaps you just look up at the sky through the palm fronds and slowly rock from side to side. Something about ‘hammock’ has always (paradoxically) screamed ‘relaxation’ in my mind.
Much more recently I sat in a hammock again. It was quite low to the ground so I wasn’t so worried about how to get in, or the damage I would do if I fell out. This time around I was more worried that the swaying-motion might give me ‘sea sickness’ and make my nauseous. But it didn’t. There was something incredibly soothing about the slow movement from side to side, almost like rocking a baby in a cradle. If it wasn’t for the fact that you have to keep pushing yourself, I might have fallen asleep.
Even more recently we bought a rocking chair for our balcony. It was an ‘investment’ and whilst it looks perfect, it doesn’t rock the way we’d imagined. At first we thought we’d put the legs onto the seat back to front and asked the store for advice. They never replied. Now I think the design is too heavy to get going; you really have to push to go backwards and almost lean forward in your chair to swing it upright. It does work as well as I’d like. It’s just not as effortless as I’d hoped. Now I think about it, no moving chair really is ‘effortless’. The only fully automated chair would be one with a little motor attached to the back. Actually – I think they have them for nursing mothers and babies…
Swing – rock – sway – there is something very soothing about a mobile chair once you get in the groove.
Here’s hoping you can find yourself a ‘lulling-chair’… and the time to sit in it… because if I could give you my NUMBER ONE TOP TIP TO HEAL:
Slow the heck down.
Take care, Linda x
The Mindful Migraine 
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