The Body as Knowledge Receptacle

Half an hour to go before my turn. I’m not well. Can feel the nausea coming in waves. Why did I accept? Why subject myself to this? What am I actually doing in Seville? And what kind of insane idiots fly me across Europe to hold a talk? Don't they see that I have nothing to offer?

I thumb through my lecture notes. So flat. Boring. Impossible to get anyone engaged in. I’m not even interested myself. And so tired. My mouth feels full of gravel, or cotton. My Dutch colleague Harry comes walking towards me. He smiles cheerfully when he catches sight of me. We exchange a few words. To my surprise I sound happy, calm, modest and self- assured. I feel dizzy. As if I’m standing beside myself talking.

Up on the podium my body is still in protest mode. But it does actually start to relax. I run my gaze over the audience and the hall we are in. Search out some pleasant looking faces to fix my eyes on when I talk. Should one of them look uninterested when I start, I’ll just move on to another. Someone who’s keeping up, nodding encouragingly. Someone to steal energy from.

It's starting. I’m introduced in Spanish before we switch to English. I start to talk. I’ve got their attention. I’m calm, my body feels warm. I find a woman down to the left who keeps nodding; far to the right, the guy from Barcelona is looking genuinely interested. In the middle an alert- looking student. I avoid Harry; he always looks so sceptical.