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him had felt possible. Again and again, someone would begin by listing his achievements— the companies, the festivals, the awards—and then quickly move past them, as if the real legacy lived elsewhere. What they wanted to talk about was how he made them braver. How he made the work feel joyful. How he treated art not as some- thing precious to protect, but as something meant to be shared. Sitting there, I realized how dif- ferently he had measured life. Where I had once focused on urgency and output—the grants secured, the seasons saved, the budgets balanced—he had fo- cused on beginning. On inviting people into the process. On mak- ing room for imagination, even when the outcome wasn’t guar- anteed. His life wasn’t remem-
bered as a list of accomplish- ments, but as a series of moments that set other lives in motion. In that way, his death didn’t feel like a full stop. It felt like a con- tinuation. The stories kept un- folding, one after another, each person carrying a piece of what he had given them—a willing- ness to try, a comfort with uncer- tainty, a belief that making some- thing was always worth the risk. Surrounded by bright col- ors and shared food, I began to understand how narrowly I had once defined importance. I had measured it in urgen- cy and productivity, in fund- ing secured and seasons saved. He had measured it differently, and in doing so, had built a life that continued to gather people together even after it ended.•
they faced fear with grace, we allow their values to keep moving through the world. The celebration continued, and I noticed how rarely anyone spoke about the day he died. Instead, they spoke about the days he lived. About the first re - hearsal held in a borrowed stu- dio with no money and no clear plan. About performances that almost didn’t happen because he decided to try something new at the last minute. About the way he welcomed dancers who were inexperienced but eager, convinced that curiosity mattered more than credentials. People laughed as they told these stories—not out of disrespect, but because being around him had felt light. Creating with
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