The Bold Choice to Live AND Thrive

Tyka said I could, so I did. -Prince (Tyka Nelson was Prince’s sister who recently passed away)

Dancers understand this almost instinctively.

Anyone who danced the way Prince danced—
with that level of athleticism, speed, torque, elevation, repetition,
and especially in heels—
understood early on that this was not a path designed for extreme longevity of the body.

Not because of ignorance.
But because of honesty.

Dancers learn quickly that the body keeps score.
It speaks through ankles and knees.
Through hips and spine.
Through feet that ache long after the lights go out.

And still—there is choice.

Prince chose thriving over postponing life.
He chose expression over rationing joy.
He chose to pour himself fully into the years he had,
rather than live cautiously for a future that was never promised.

That choice was not denial.
It was clarity, especially as a Black creative who lived through many of his peers leaving this world too soon with earth shattering gifts still unwrapped.

Most elite dancers know they are not training for deep old age onstage.
They are training for now—
for presence, excellence, impact, and truth in motion.

This is where agency matters.

Some people choose a long life defined by calm, soothing, and physical preservation.
That is a valid choice.
It is not, however, every artist’s choice.

Others choose to use the body fully—
lovingly, fiercely, and with intention—
knowing that devotion leaves marks.

Neither path is foolish.
They are simply different lives.

Prince did not dance because it was safe.
He danced because it was who he was.

Dancers recognize this immediately,
because many of them have made the same quiet agreement with their bodies:

They will listen.
They will care.
And they will also live through them.

Thriving is not the same as lasting forever.
Sometimes thriving means burning bright—
skillfully, deliberately—
and leaving a legacy that outlives the body itself.

That, too, is wisdom.