For years, we have been told the same story about success in dance: shining, standing out, arriving, being seen. Big stages, constant applause, external recognition. And while all of that can be beautiful and valid, with time —and with the body— one begins to understand that success is not always about brightness; welcome to success in dance, a post (I HOPE) to encourage.

Sometimes, true success is about staying.

Staying when the body doubts, when the path narrows, when inspiration doesn’t come as easily as before. Staying when the applause fades and only the truth of your dance remains — the one that doesn’t need to be explained or validated.

After more than twenty years of dancing, I can say this honestly: there are many highs and many lows. Making a living from dance is not easy. It never was. And perhaps this is one of the great challenges of our profession: the expectation that love for movement should be enough to sustain everything, even when the system, the market, or the body itself says otherwise.

As the years pass, something changes. The body settles and becomes wiser. It no longer asks for the same things, nor does it respond in the same way. Limits appear, yes, but so do nuances, depth, and listening. You begin to inhabit your style with more truth, to accept your timing, your silences, your tocs, your particularities. And that is okay. It is not a loss — it is a transformation.

We often believe that evolution means doing more, going further, constantly reinventing ourselves. But sometimes evolution means refining. Staying with what is essential. Allowing yourself not to prove anything. Understanding that your proposal can change and still be valid — even more authentic.

Success in dance… and inspiration

Another important topic is inspiration. We have been taught that an inspired dancer is a productive, visible, constantly creative dancer. But inspiration is neither linear nor permanent. It comes and goes. There are seasons of fire and seasons of ashes. And that is perfectly fine.

What matters is understanding that even when inspiration is absent, we are still here. Still connected, in one way or another, to the body. Sometimes through movement, sometimes through stillness, observation, breathing, or deep listening. That, too, is dance.

Perhaps one of the greatest acts of maturity is letting go of force. Letting go of chasing a past version of ourselves. Accepting that desire changes, priorities shift, and success may simply be the ability to keep doing what you love, under the conditions that are honest and possible for you today.

So if I could offer any advice —especially to new generations— it would be this: if you choose dance, do not chase only the outcome. Do not live solely to arrive somewhere that always seems further ahead.

Care for the roots. Listen to your body. Honour your pauses as much as your impulses. Allow yourself to rest without guilt and to create without pressure. Because those who remain, who adapt, who keep dancing even in silence, are already succeeding.

Perhaps true achievement is not sustaining a perfect career, but sustaining the bond with movement over time. Sustaining passion as it changes, discipline when it feels heavy, and love for dance when everything transforms.

May this new year find us dancing.
Not to arrive.
But to continue.