Starting Out

When I was in fifth grade, my mom put me in my first dance class. I was unsure of what to expect and mildly suspicious of the whole thing. But as we Lindy hopped and pas de bourrée’d our little hearts out, with Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson fully supporting the vibe, I was hooked.

I always loved music. I knew every lyric to every song on the radio, impressing my friends mothers as they drove us to school. I stuck with dance all the way through high school, giving up all other activities to pursue it fully.

After graduating, I found myself surprisingly lost. Dance had been the one thing I poured my time and attention into, yet I couldn’t imagine pursuing it professionally. I didn’t love being the center of attention and I didn’t want to move to New York City. So I stayed close without fully committing to anything. A former dance teacher had reached out and said she needed a teacher for her dance school. I was hesitant, never having taught or choreographed before. I wasn’t sure if dance was in my future. I took the job anyway, knowing that I needed to make money and unexpectedly fell in love. Witnessing others discover themselves through movement felt meaningful in a way I hadn’t anticipated. So I dove in head first.

After a few gap years, I decided to pursue an undergraduate degree in dance, after all, that was the only job I seemed to enjoy and apparently was good at it. While still uncertain where this path would lead, I trusted that clarity would come through doing rather than deciding.

Entrepreneurship and Grad School

After a decade of teaching in private studios and graduating with a Bachelor’s degree in dance, I wanted to take my work to the next level. I founded Jodie Randolph Dance as a home for research-driven, collaborative contemporary work. It was a “build it as you fly it” experiment that took off before I could really catch my breath.

A year later, I created Young Dancers Initiative to expand access and opportunity for youth in the arts. This work grew out of my own experience as a student staring into the abyss of post–high school life, longing for space to explore, question, and belong. I wanted to help create that space for others.

In 2016, I chose to pursue my MFA in Choreography as a way to deepen my creative practice, which was expanding alongside my work as a teacher. That’s when everything went full throttle.

Two dance companies. A master’s degree. Teaching and presenting work all over the country. I hadn’t seen any of it coming.

Overdrive

With a busy schedule, full plate, and lots of travel, I was on autopilot. Learning how to push through fatigue, fear, and doubt. I was productive, capable, driven… and constantly overwhelmed. My nervous system lived in overdrive. I held everything tightly, believing it was all up to me. My identity slowly became entangled with my reputation and what I produced. Along the way, I sacrificed rest, strained relationships, and carried a constant undercurrent of worry. Anxiety and insecurity became background noises so familiar I stopped questioning them.

What I didn’t recognize at the time was how much striving had become my default way of being. More, faster, produce, keep up, more…

Downshift

I’m fairly certain that if the pandemic hadn’t forced a global slowdown, I might not have recognized the depth of my need for one. Having my life put on pause became the unexpected blessing that allowed me to begin healing an overwhelmed body, soul, and spirit.

Since then, I’ve been slowly learning how to downshift. How to regulate. How to release control and practice surrender. Do less. Healing doesn’t come from pushing harder, but from creating enough safety to soften.

I started saying no to what didn’t feel right and started saying yes to what tugged on my heart.

Coming Home

That same longing for safety, rhythm, and restoration began showing up everywhere.

I always had an affinity toward the earth and longed for a lifestyle where I could intentionally steward my home and land.

I got married. Started a garden. Learned to cook from scratch. Went to Farmer’s Markets instead of the grocery store. Paid attention to seasons and cyclical living. Slowly learned how to live with more intention.

What began as personal healing eventually led me back to teaching. I started Green Tree Homestead as a place to help others come back into relationship with the land, their bodies, and their limits.

What I Do Now

Everything I offer now flows from one central desire:
to create spaces where people can slow down, breathe, reconnect, and remember who they are beneath the pressure to perform.

As a Teacher

I lead flow-based classes for my local community, creating spaces where we let go of technique and lean into sensation, curiosity, and presence. Teaching is where my work first took shape, and it remains the heartbeat of everything I do. It’s taken on many forms since the ripe age of 18.

I also teach through my blog Green Tree Homestead. It’s a space for curious minds who want to learn old-fashioned modes of doing. I love to teach, so as I dove deeper into this lifestyle, it was an obvious next step to teach others how to live in alignment with the earth through home-based practices.

As a Coach

I’m an Associate Certified Coach (ICF, 2025), and I specialize in working with women who are done striving and want to return home to themselves.

My coaching is grounded in the belief that you were designed on purpose, and your unique gift is something worth stewarding.

As a Writer

You’ll find my personal reflections on capacity, slowing down, faith, creativity, and more on Substack.

My Hope

My mission is to create spaces where women can breathe, belong, and become.

By letting go of the grind, returning to a natural rhythm, and moving with ease, I cultivate a restorative environment to feel seen, supported, and at home.

If this sounds like you, let’s be friends!