Alex: Hey everyone, and welcome! Today we're tackling something we all face eventually: aging. Now, before you roll your eyes and think about aching joints, what if getting older wasn't just about slowing down, but actually a chance to pick up speed, to grow, and “really” thrive? Michelle: “Thrive,” huh? That’s a pretty high bar, Alex. For some, just getting through the day feels like a win. But that's why this topic is so compelling, right? We’re talking about Keep It Moving by Twyla Tharp, which, in a nutshell, argues that as long as you’re breathing, you need to be moving – not just your body, but your mind and your creativity too. Alex: Precisely! Tharp – and she's a seriously legendary choreographer, by the way – shares her wisdom on how to age with energy, purpose, and a sense of wonder. She blends her own life stories, cultural touchstones, and a toolbox full of tips to help us see getting older as an opportunity for growth and self-discovery, instead of just a downhill slide. Michelle: Okay, that sounds interesting. It’s not just about physical activity, but keeping your mind engaged and, if I dare say, finding your purpose. Alex: Exactly! In this episode, we're tackling three key takeaways from the book. First up: how movement – whether it’s a daily walk or something more ambitious – is vital for a fulfilling life. Michelle: Then, we'll dig into some of the practical tips Tharp offers up. Think exercises and routines designed to keep you motivated and your body moving, without making you feel bad about yourself. Alex: And finally, we’re going to explore the power of mentorship – how sharing your wisdom can cement your legacy while fostering connection and community. Michelle: So, whether you're a seasoned dancer or consider reaching for the TV remote exercise, there’s something in this for you. Let's jump in!

Alex: So, picking up where we left off, let’s dive into what Twyla Tharp means by “movement is life.” It’s not just about exercise, you know? It’s about embodying vitality, creativity, and connection. It’s a mindset, “really”—a declaration that we’re here, engaged, contributing. Michelle: Right, but I'm a bit skeptical of her strong emphasis on movement as this grand metaphor for thriving. It makes me think of her "wake up and dance" mantra. How realistic is that for the average person whose relationship with movement involves merely getting to the coffee pot in the morning? Alex: I hear you, Michelle. It might sound lofty, but think of movement, in Tharp's view, as more than just dance or big gestures. It’s about finding rhythm in life, even in small things. Take Eliud Kipchoge, the marathon runner she talks about. His record wasn’t just about speed, but also about embracing movement as a challenge and a group effort. Remember his team ran in a wedge to cut the wind for him? That's movement rooted in collaboration, right there. Michelle: It is fascinating in theory. But, sticking with Kipchoge for a moment, my counter is that that level of dedication seems unattainable. I mean, who has a "wedge formation" of friends clearing their path, literally or figuratively? Alex: Good point. But Kipchoge's story isn't about replicating his conditions. It's about what we can achieve when movement is powered by intention and support. Tharp emphasizes this connection: our movements, whether with others or solo, mirror our engagement with life. Even a simple stretch or walk injects vitality and connection into our day. Michelle: Okay, Kipchoge embodies the power of collaboration. But I find John Curry, the figure skater, even more compelling. He connects movement to art, using it for self-expression. Not just "How fast can I skate?" but "What story can I tell while skating?" Alex: Exactly! Curry’s artistry is a perfect example of movement as creativity, isn’t it? Tharp points out that he wasn’t limited by the technicalities of skating, but used it to express his unique voice. Movement was his way of telling stories, conveying emotions. It shows us that movement isn’t about following rules, but about personal exploration, even reinvention. Michelle: It does make me wonder, though, do you think people find that idea too intimidating? Like, is movement for art's sake just... scary for someone who doesn't see themself as a Monet or Curry? Alex: Not if we drop the idea that creativity has to meet certain standards. Tharp asks us to shift our perspective—like Curry did. Instead of focusing on limitations, we can explore what’s possible with what we do have. Think of Monet's failing eyesight later in life. He didn’t give up. He adapted, and that constraint led to a whole new fluid style. See? That's the essence of Tharp's message. Michelle: So, it’s about reframing—focusing on what can still be created, instead of what’s been lost. Alex: Absolutely. And that reframing carries over into Tharp's methods. Simple actions become powerful when done with intention. She talks about recognizing life's rhythms through movement, creating a give-and-take. Stretching when you're still, swaying to music... these small commitments anchor us in the present and remind us of our agency. Michelle: I can see that, especially for someone hesitant to jump into a rigid workout. A friend of mine swears by a "morning wiggle"—just a few minutes to move however they feel. Something that simple. Alex: Exactly! And so effective. Tharp also says that movement is spiritual, not in a practical sense, but as a reflection of how we live. She describes a widow processing grief through gentle motions. Those small gestures of reaching, swaying, breathing... they're a physical meditation, a path to finding joy, even in sorrow. Michelle: It makes you wonder why we've compartmentalized movement into "exercise" or "chores." Tharp seems to say it deserves more respect—it's a language of vitality we don't often speak. Alex: That's a great way to put it. And then there’s the community aspect, which I think we underestimate. Moving together—dance class, a walk with neighbors, an online group—deepens our sense of belonging. Tharp talks about how collective experiences strengthen the spirit. Like when an audience connects with John Curry’s performance, right? Michelle: Or taking it out of the arena— just look at how participating in something communal lifts the mood. A game-night charade, where everyone's movements turn into laughter. That’s connection through movement, too. Alex: And it's an antidote to isolation, especially as we age. Tharp reframes aging and movement as an act of defiance—saying, "I’m here, capable, relevant." We get to write a new story of adaptability and lifelong creativity. Michelle: It’s that tricky balance, isn’t it? Acknowledging the changes of age, but not surrendering to them. Movement, in all its forms, becomes both the action and the metaphor for staying engaged.

Alex: So, this core idea naturally leads us to how we can actually “do” this in our lives. We’re diving into Twyla Tharp’s specific advice for staying active as we age. And these aren't just theories; they’re real strategies to change how we deal with our physical and mental well-being. Michelle: Actionable advice, got it. Because, let’s be real, Tharp's on another level with her career and discipline. What’s the starting point for those of us who are, shall we say, a little less… ballet-inclined? Alex: Good point. One of the first things she says is to break those old, stuck habits. She boils it down to "Shut up and dance." It's a direct command: stop thinking so much and just move. She believes that deliberately moving can actually boost us mentally and emotionally, not just physically. Michelle: "Shut up and dance," huh? I mean, I don't know about everyone suddenly doing Swan Lake in their living rooms. What’s the thinking behind that? Alex: It's all about getting some momentum. She knows that we often get stuck in our heads, worrying about failing or thinking we're "too old" for something. This is the cure: act first, then think. The movement doesn’t have to be perfect; it just has to happen. Even a quick walk or just fixing your posture can remind you that progress is step-by-step. Michelle: It’s like those times you spend ages psyching yourself up to do something, and once you actually start, it’s like, “Why did I make such a big deal out of this?” We really are our own worst enemies sometimes. Alex: Exactly. Tharp uses the example of joining a dance class. Someone might hold back, worried about looking silly. But if they “shut up and dance,” they skip that self-consciousness and rediscover the joy of moving with others. It's not about being good; it’s about how that movement feels in your body and how it lifts your spirits. Michelle: Right, because it’s not just a saying, is it? Movement literally changes your body. Endorphins, better blood flow—there’s solid science behind the idea that doing leads to feeling better, not the other way around. Still, I bet some people are thinking, "Easier said than done." What if you just can’t seem to get going? Alex: That's where keeping it simple comes in. Tharp tells people to break things down into small wins—like just standing up and stretching your arms or swaying to a song you love. These little movements fight that inertia and start building a habit. Even something this tiny can nudge your body into remembering how good it feels to move. Michelle: Basically, baby steps. But then she also talks about “Taking Up Space,” which sounds like the opposite – big, bold moves, physically and emotionally. Tell me about that. Alex: "Taking Up Space" is really about how we exist in the world. Physically, that means good posture, moving with confidence. Think of a dancer owning the stage with every step. Tharp wants us all to move through life like that, not just dancers. She argues that how we stand, how big our movements are, and how deliberate we are all show self-confidence. Michelle: So, chest out, head up—not shrinking into the background, right? But posture is just the beginning. What does it mean to "take up space" emotionally? Alex: It means being assertive, recognizing your own worth, especially since society tends to push older people into the background. Projecting your voice, looking people in the eye, and sharing your thoughts in conversations. Tharp says these little things are ways of saying, "I'm here, I matter." It's empowering, and it fights a common fear of aging: feeling invisible. Michelle: It makes me think of those people—no matter their age—who just walk into a room and, you know, they’re there. It's not about age or looks or power, just this energy of someone who knows they’re worth paying attention to. Alex: Tharp believes we can all have that. But, like you said, it’s about changing your mindset. She talks about how older people sometimes unconsciously shrink and fade as they age—whether it's from discomfort, lack of confidence, or what society expects. She wants us to fight that by really stepping into our spaces: standing tall, moving with purpose, showing that we have something to offer. Michelle: That’s a powerful message, especially when youth gets all the attention. She’s basically saying, "Demand your place in the story." Alex: Exactly. And this goes hand-in-hand with letting go of old identities, another key thing Tharp talks about. She wants us to rethink the roles and labels we've held onto—whether it's about our careers or our physical abilities—especially when those identities are holding us back. Michelle: That's got to be tough for some people, though. If someone’s been a nurse or an athlete for decades, losing those identities must feel like losing a part of themselves. Alex: For sure, but Tharp sees it as opening up space for new versions of ourselves to appear. Like Monet later in life. His eyesight was failing—it could've ended his career. But instead of dwelling on what he’d lost, he explored what he could create despite his new limitations. His water lilies, painted with blurred vision, are some of his most famous works. He transformed himself. Michelle: It’s art born from resilience—and it's relatable even if you're not an artist. It's about redefining your purpose after retiring or after some big life change. It’s not about just giving up the old stuff, it’s about trading it for something new. What can you release in exchange for what’s coming next? Alex: Exactly! Tharp says to let go of nostalgia or sentimentality that keeps us stuck. It’s not about ignoring the past, but knowing when it’s limiting us. For anyone at a turning point, letting go like this can open doors to possibilities they never even thought of.

Alex: So, with these strategies in place, our focus shifts to the societal and interpersonal impact of this mindset. Which brings us to today's next big idea: community and legacy through mentorship. It really zooms out from individual practices to the collective experience, showing how our actions contribute to the bigger picture of human connection. Michelle: Right, so we're zooming out. Moving beyond the “what can I do to improve myself” to, "how do my experiences and insights affect the world around me?" It kind of flips the script, doesn’t it? Our lives, even as we get older, aren't meant to be lived in isolation. They're part of something larger. Alex: Exactly. Tharp emphasizes the importance of mentorship, not just as passing down knowledge, but as a two-way exchange that builds creativity, supports communities, and creates a lasting legacy. She sees mentorship as a collaborative, a creative dialogue between generations. Michelle: Okay, I like the sound of that, but let's dig into what mentorship looks like in practice. I'm guessing it's not just someone standing on a stage, sharing "The Secrets of My Success" using PowerPoint. Alex: Definitely not. A great example she gives is how she interacts with her regisseurs, these seasoned dancers in their sixties who are responsible for preserving her choreography. But they don't just copy her original vision. They revisit old performances, think about what still resonates, and adapt it for younger dancers. It’s about respecting the past while still letting modern voices shape it. Michelle: Got it, so it’s not worshiping the past, but reinterpreting it. That's interesting and kind of rare, isn’t it? The idea of legacy, be it in art or anything else, often feels rigid, like, "This is how it's always been done, so don't you dare change it." Alex: Exactly! That’s why Tharp’s approach feels so fresh, right? For her, legacy isn’t freezing a moment in time, it’s keeping it alive by letting it evolve. The great thing is that it benefits everyone involved. Younger dancers bring fresh energy, and the regisseurs grow by engaging with the art in a deeper way. It’s this give-and-take that keeps the work alive and relevant. Michelle: So, Alex, what do you think stops people from embracing that kind of mentorship? This idea of “let's reinterpret this together” sounds great, but I'm sure there's some resistance – ego, maybe even fear of losing control? Alex: Definitely. Tharp does say it takes humility. As a mentor, you have to be willing to listen and adapt, to ditch the idea that your way is the only way. And as a mentee, you need to honor the old knowledge while bringing your own flavor to the table. It’s tricky, but when it works, it’s transformative. Michelle: Which brings me to Tharp and Maurice Sendak. Their collaboration feels like a masterclass in redefining mentorship. Even with their age difference and different art forms – her choreography, him illustration – it wasn’t a one-way street, right? Alex: Not at all. Their relationship was all about mutual respect and curiosity. Sendak, even later in life, was open to exploration, which is very similar to how Tharp herself faces aging creatively. She might have gotten inspiration from his ideas, and he found new energy through their conversations. It's mentorship as a shared creative journey, not just a transfer of knowledge. Michelle: That’s what I find so appealing: mentorship that benefits everyone. It doesn't matter if you’re choreographing dances or teaching someone how to garden – when both sides are invested, it shifts from just sharing information to mutual growth. Alex: Exactly! Tharp even argues that mentorship is more valuable when there's diversity in experience and age. She works with young dancers who push her work while still learning from the amazing regisseurs, bridging that gap between generations. Michelle: It’s also really practical. She offers actionable steps for effective mentorship. The one that really stood out to me was redefining our roles as we age. Her regisseurs weren't always mentors, were they? Alex: Nope. Many started as dancers, performing on stage earlier in their careers. Eventually, they took on mentorship roles, building on their contributions while adapting to new ones. It shows us that even as our abilities change, it doesn’t mean we have to stop contributing. We can reinvent ourselves to keep being part of the creative or societal landscape. Michelle: It's a hopeful message, especially in a world where people close to retirement or facing physical limitations often feel like they’re being pushed out. Tharp basically says, "You're not being pushed aside. You're being invited to contribute in new ways." Alex: Exactly! Mentorship, as she sees it, is a really powerful way to stay active and involved. And it doesn’t have to be some formal, structured thing. Even just sharing experiences with a friend, volunteering, or giving advice can be mentorship. It’s about creating a conversation and building connections. Michelle: Which brings us back to one of the most touching examples: Eliud Kipchoge's marathon team. The way his pacemakers embodied mentorship is amazing. They weren’t just setting the pace to help him reach his goal—they were showing how teamwork lifts everyone up. Alex: Exactly. Kipchoge’s team worked flawlessly, shielding him from resistance while staying perfectly in sync with the rhythm of his run. Each person’s contribution was essential to the larger goal. And even though Kipchoge broke the two-hour barrier, his success was deeply connected to the community around him. Michelle: So, the community, in its purest form, is basically a stunning metaphor for mentorship. It demonstrates that we produce something far bigger, more meaningful, and more beautiful when we help each other than anything we could create alone. Alex: That’s exactly Thrive’s main message: mentorship enriches not only our personal legacies but also our shared purpose. It’s about weaving a tapestry of connection and creativity that transcends time and spans generations.

Alex: Alright so, bringing it all together, we've really dug into Twyla Tharp's idea that movement, in every sense of the word, is essential for a lively life. It’s not just hitting the gym, but seeing movement as a way to be resilient, creative, and connected. Whether it's, you know, “shutting up and dancing”, owning your space with confidence, or ditching old versions of ourselves, Tharp gives us real ways to live intentionally, no matter our age. Michelle: Right, and let's not forget how she frames mentorship. It's not just about handing down knowledge from on high; it’s this living, breathing, collaborative thing that connects generations, and makes sure what we contribute keeps going and growing. Whether you're mentoring or being mentored, it’s about staying linked to a shared energy. Alex: Precisely. So, here’s the thought for everyone today: think about one small move – whether it's physical, emotional, or creative – that could bring a little more life to your day. You know, it might be as easy as improving your posture, reaching for the sky, or even starting a really meaningful conversation to share what you’ve learned. Just start small, but do it with purpose. Michelle: And maybe ask yourself: what are you clinging to that you need to release? Because if you can trade that weight for something new—a fresh idea, maybe a new sense of purpose, or even space to grow—you might just unlock a whole new way of thriving. Have you applied these lessons to your life? Alex: Exactly! Because, after all, keeping it moving is about more than just physical motion – it’s about staying fully present and engaged with life, right? So, until our next podcast, let’s keep moving onward, one step at a time.