New Fall 2026 adult ballet schedule in North & West Vancouver

Age 7 in my very first tutu. L for Love.

It was Friedrich Nietzsche who said, “I would believe only in a God that knows how to dance.” 

My first ballet class took place in a church hall in South Africa. I was seven. In my frilly pink ankle socks, I was convinced that God Himself was there, dancing alongside me in the sun streaming through the windows high above my head. (At seven, I did not yet know about Nietzsche’s most famous quote: “God is dead.”)

Over the years, ballet retained its sense of sacredness. Socially awkward in real life, the studio was my safe place. Predictable. The barre, piano music, trembling muscles and the unchanging order of the exercises. No speaking allowed. It was such a relief. 

At 17, I started teaching. My ballet teacher at the time was pregnant, and her patience with the five-year-old ballerinas was wearing dangerously thin. I inherited them just in time for the year-end recital. It was from these preschoolers that I learned the delicate art of soliciting cooperation from those with zero – and I mean zero – interest in cooperating. It remains the single most useful lesson I have ever learned. (It involved a lot of bodily fluids, and is a story best left for another time.) 

But it was this experience that lit the teaching flame in me. There is nothing quite as rewarding as seeing little faces light up onstage when they hear the audience applauding for the first time. For them. The understanding that their efforts – their dancing – has brought joy to others. That we can create magic with our very own bodies. 

And so, for the next 35 years, I taught: preschoolers, teenagers, children and adults. For a while, I had my own little studio, in a church hall where dust motes drifted softly through the sunlight.

Ballerina circle

And then, for a variety of reasons, all of which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, I stopped teaching ballet. Part midlife crisis, part empty-nest syndrome, part saviour complex, I threw myself into other stuff. Stuff I thought was important. Stuff I hoped might change something for the better in my tiny part of the world.

So busy doing this stuff was I, that for the longest time I didn’t miss the tights or the tulle. We are such clever creatures, aren’t we? We busy ourselves so thoroughly, that we don’t even notice the absence of magic. Or grace. 

In 2021, my mother’s heart attack took me back to South Africa, to the city of my first ballet class. 

I was struck by how she had aged. Hunched shoulders, shrinking spine, heart hidden from the world. How had this happened? And how could I prevent the same from happening to me? My mother was only 23 years older than me. That’s not a lot of time. 

I went Googling. I searched in every cyber nook for ways to slow down my impending aging. I examined intermittent fasting and read about how different physical and mental activities impact our brains. I dove into dementia studies, neuroplasticity, depression, anxiety, stress, cardiovascular health, Parkinson’s Disease. I researched PhDs in gerontology. And magic spells for eternal youth.

And finally, I found Silver Swans®.

Developed by the Royal Academy of Dance, one of the largest dance organisations in the world (founded in London, England in 1920), Silver Swans® ballet classes are designed specifically for older learners.

Years of research have gone into creating this licensing programme – research that puts dance ahead of other physical activities in the variety of health benefits that it brings. The classes improve mobility, posture, co-ordination and energy levels. 

I was fascinated by the research. I was also housebound, caring for my mother, and just a little desperate to move again. I found an online Silver Swans class, placed my fingers on the makeshift barre (a dining-room chair), turned out my feet, exhaled my shoulder blades away from my ears and smiled. I was seven again. 

And as I pliéd and pirouetted, I felt Himself twirling through my veins in the southern hemisphere winter sunshine. And it hit me: how incredible it is to have this body, this unfurling spine, that can sway and waltz, and feel the pulse of the universe.

I decided, right then and there – with my medicated mother sleeping in the next room, a global pandemic still raging, sadness seeping across the planet – that a return to music and magic was in order.

I’m not afraid of dying. I’d prefer not to do it quite yet, but death is not something that keeps me up at night. Being unable to fully live, however, terrifies me to the tips of my toes. According to the research, dancing could be my best defense. But ballet is also one of the things that brings the most joy and beauty into my life. And I figure we can all do with a little more of that.

As a proud Silver Swans® licensee, I invite you to dance with me this fall. Classes are suitable for any age, whether you have danced for many years, or have never set foot in a studio before. No special attire is required. Come in tutus or track pants, bare feet or ballet slippers.

Don’t come because it’s good for your flexibility. Or your brain. Or your heart. It is, of course, good for all those things.

Dance simply because you can. Because how incredible is that?

NEW CLASSES start in SEPTEMBER 2026 at Ballet Bloch, Hollyburn Country Club, and the West Vancouver Seniors Centre. For more information or enquiries please email me.

(A version of this story was first published in The Beacon newspaper.)