I like a stool when I speak. I almost always want a stool. I like to have the option to sit and to occasionally get on my feet to walk around. Honestly, I think the only time I don’t want a stool is when the crowd is over 500 or so. And since I rarely speak in front of crowds that big, I usually use a stool.
I don’t know why. It feels more humble to me, more unassuming. More like a chat, and less like a lecture. Maybe it’s a security blanket for me, an anchor. Some people hide behind the pulpit, I am held up by a stool.
I haven’t made much of a study of stools. I tend to like one that allows movement, like The Stool That Spins at Solomon’s Porch. And I need a footrest. A stool without a footrest is worthless.
So, leave it to the Scandinavians to build my perfect stool. I used it only on my first day here, when I was speaking at a Pentecostal church in Copenhagen. It looked like something you might find in IKEA. It had a footrest, at just the right height. But, most importantly, it cradled me, held me securely.
I loved that stool, and I miss it.