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The blinds in my room struggle to filter the full sun streaming in my window. Clasping my hands over my head, I stretch, feeling the sun warm my back. I am full of that specific kind of headiness that comes from a surprisingly hot day in winter. My desk in front of me is littered with books and papers. I've drawn lines under and around the words in the topmost article, and added numerous comments of my own. Reading Kristine Kellor's (1999) words of resistance in this article, I recognise my own experiences. I too had "soul wrenching struggles to synthesise and theorise" in the flesh (Kellor, 1999, p. 25). This is how Kristine had described her experiences of attempting to reconcile her 'storied' body with the academic 'knowledges' she gained at university. I can relate to these comments myself, returning to university as a doctoral student with a body of experience a 'storied' body. However, as I sit at my desk this morning, my thoughts drift back to my other student experiences. I trained as a dancer five years ago, bolstered with academic 'knowledges' knowledges of philosophy and psychology. So I brought these knowledges to my dance training, expecting them to inform my dance education. Pondering my experiences as a dance student, I dig my creative journal out from under papers and books and flick through some of my stories. I've been writing stories about my life for a while now, in some attempt it seems, to write, myself into the here and now, to hold a moment for some undetermined future. I remember a particular story, find it and read:

Reflections: An education of my own, or learning to be resistant