Find Your Path LLC

09/05/2026

My next presentation is coming up! Join me to learn more about what Find Your Path is all about!

Forest bathing, based on the Japanese practice of shinrin-yoku) is the mindful, sensory immersion in nature to improve mental and physical wellness. Jodi Heaney, certified forest bathing guide, will teach about the origins of Forest Bathing, the science-backed mental and physical health benefits, and simple, mindful exercises.

09/04/2026

First library presentation done. Great turnout, and it was so fun to share my excitement with curious people. There are a few more if you missed Richland. Come on out and see what Find Your Path offers!

09/04/2026

Birds are the best!

Awesome♥️

09/01/2026

TUESDAY TEACHINGS: Being Where Your Feet Are

“May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground. Carry on.”
This is one of my favorite song lyrics of all time, from Carry On by fun. For a long time, I understood those words literally. When I was a runner, training for half marathons, the long runs were therapeutic for me. I would head out onto the trail carrying whatever was weighing on me; stress, family issues, work, drama, worries, and somehow, with every step, it felt like I was leaving those things farther and farther behind.
The farther I ran, the better I felt.
I would choose routes I knew well. I liked knowing where I was going, what I would see, and how long it would take me to get there so I wouldn’t get distracted by new things to look at. Once I settled into my rhythm, I could let my mind go quiet. My feet kept moving, my body took over, and for a while I didn't have to think about everything waiting for me at home and work. I couldn't get far enough away from it all.
But something has changed. These days, I'm less interested in getting away from everything and more interested in being where my feet are. That doesn't mean I don't still have difficult days. I do. We all do. Instead, it means I've started to understand that I don't always have to outrun what I'm carrying.
This is part of the intention behind one of my forest bathing paths, Taking Time to Be Present. The invitation is simple: press pause. Don’t try and solve everything, don’t try and figure everything out, don’t make a plan for tomorrow.
Just...be.
Forest bathing has taught me that being present doesn't necessarily mean emptying your mind. Our thoughts will wander. We may find ourselves replaying yesterday's conversation or worrying about tomorrow's responsibilities. That's human.
Being present is noticing that we've wandered, and gently coming back. Back to the sound of the birds, to the breeze moving through the leaves, to the texture of bark beneath our fingertips.
We can come back to the feeling of our feet touching the ground, but slowly and gently instead of fast-paced. There is something powerful about letting nature become an anchor for our attention. Instead of trying to escape our thoughts, we can notice them without having to follow them. We can simply just exist for a bit.
I think that's one of the reasons forest bathing feels so different to me now than those long runs did. Running helped me create distance. Forest bathing helps me create presence. And perhaps both were exactly what I needed at different points in my life. There was a time when I needed my feet to carry me away. Now, I'm learning to let my feet remind me where I am.
Being where your feet are doesn't mean forgetting the past or ignoring the future. It means remembering that the only place we live is here.
So the next time you find yourself carrying too much, try something simple. Maybe you don't have to run away. Maybe you just need to arrive.

08/30/2026

Take a few moments to press pause...and just breathe.

08/25/2026

TUESDAY TEACHINGS: What to make of a diminished thing

The Oven Bird
By Robert Frost

There is a singer everyone has heard,
Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird,
Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again.
He says that leaves are old and that for flowers
Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.
He says the early petal-fall is past
When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers
On sunny days a moment overcast;
And comes that other fall we name the fall.
He says the highway dust is over all.
The bird would cease and be as other birds
But that he knows in singing not to sing.
The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing.

Ah…one of my favorite poems. The inevitable passing of the vibrant spring, to the exuberant summer, into the inevitable duller and “dustier” fall. Winter is coming.
Admittedly, this is the hardest time of year for me. For 35 years it has meant “back to school” and an end to the delicious freedom offered for a few weeks. It has ushered me back into a routine that, over the years, I was finding harder to get into and more eager to get out of.

Hardwired into my DNA is the “back to school” anxiety. Newly retired, I still feel those pangs even though I know I am not returning. What will I do now? What is my purpose? Have I lost worth and identity without my job as a teacher? My non-retired colleagues went back to work today or have been back since last week, and I am sitting at home with this sense of dread and anxiety.

The Oven Bird reminds us that every season must end and a new one must begin, even if it isn’t as beautiful as the previous. “What to make of a diminished thing” Frost asks us. Summer plants have already started to dull and brown, to yellow and wither. The air is thinning. The lovely evening hum of frogs has slowly changed into the drone of crickets and cicadas. The birdsong in the mornings is quieting, no longer a cacophony. Nature appears to be diminishing.

But it is ok. The oven bird accepts that summer is ending, but she keeps singing. She reminds us that with the passing of time, and entering new life stages, there is still beauty and purpose. Quiet wisdom has been gained, taking the place of the boisterous energy of youth. There is value in reflection, looking back over previous seasons and appreciating the journey.

Summer may be diminishing, little bird, but I am not. Nor are you, reader. Let us rise, let us glow!

*****
Fun fact, that makes me cry a little, the call of the oven bird sounds like TEACHER TEACHER TEACHER. How fitting. You can see and listen to the oven bird below.

Secretive warbler that lacks vibrant colors, but compensates with an enormous voice. Olive-brown above with black streaks on white breast and bold white eyering. Orange central crown stripe bordered by black on either side. Forages for insects by walking along branches and on the ground with exagger...

08/23/2026

Three little pond enthusiasts and their adults used their senses today to explore and learn more about what makes ponds special.
Lily, a pond friend, reminded them that when we slow down we notice so much more. Feathers, a dead crayfish, rocks, shells and aquatic plants were noticed and examined. Water drops revealed the microscopic secret lives that call the pond home.
And as I have always said in my 35 years of teaching...if you didn't get dirty, you didn't have fun! And we got dirty. And wet! ☺️
Won't you join us for the next Five Senses Pond Exploration?

08/18/2026

TUESDAY TEACHINGS: Touching Nature
A few weeks ago when we encountered the little mouse up north, Cooper (my grandson) wanted to touch it while Adalynn (my granddaughter) was screaming and trying to squirm away from it. When there is a bug or a spider, she recoils in horror. Cooper scoops little bluegills out of the nets off the dock, holds them in his hands, and swims around with them for a bit before releasing them again. Adalynn wants to touch them, but she is frightened.

Why do some children have an aversion to the textures of the natural world? Newborns and babies use tactile information to learn about the world around them, which helps to build vital brain connections and to process visual data. Babies put things in their mouths to test out textures, temperatures, and other data which creates pathways in the nervous system to later develop problem solving skills and coordinated motor skills. Babies bond with their parents and caregivers through touch - cuddling, hugs, and snuggling in laps.

A world of information is interpreted and understood through touch. Think about it. How tempted are you to touch a new book, tool, a shiny earring, or an adorable kitten? Touching an item, picking it up in our hands, helps us to assess its value or importance to us. If you pick up a new screwdriver and it doesn’t feel very weighty or hefty you might pass on it, thinking it is not hardy enough for the work you need to do. If you pick up a kitten at the shelter, and its skin is bumpy and its fur feels matted, you may not want to bring it home to live with your existing cats as it may have a contagious illness.

When I have taken kids on field trips to the Nature Center, I ALWAYS had to encourage the majority of them to touch trees, pick up rocks, and dip their fingers in the river. Sometime between the baby stage of EVERYTHING getting picked up and shoved in a mouth and middle school tween, a lot of kids stop touching things in nature. If I had a dollar for every time a kid loudly exclaimed, “THAT’S GROSS!” then I could have retired years ago. I have spent years crawling around on the ground dissecting coyote p**p, grabbing frogs, peeking into mats of moss, searching for the coolest rock in the stream and literally begging kids to join me. Now, don’t get me wrong. There were times when kids joined in gleefully, but the majority would hang back and watch. They don’t want to get dirty, or their moms would get mad if they came home muddy, or worms are gross, or maybe there is fish p**p in the water…so many excuses.

Since COVID, the germaphobia has increased for sure. But prior to that, over decades of teaching, I saw less and less kids spending time outside exploring the natural world. My friends tease me when we are hiking because it takes us twice as long to complete the trail because I am stopping every five feet to take a picture of a mushroom, or pick up a rock, or run my hand across a cool bunch of moss after I deeply inhale its earthy scent. Do I think some stuff is gross? Sure…and if there is a bee you can bet I will be running away screaming. But I wonder where the shift in childhood happened. I loved “playing house” in the woods down the street, building forts, making salads out of weeds, and coming home with grass-stained knees and wet socks.

Science proves that spending intentional time in nature is healing both physically and mentally. Physical contact with plants, trees, soil, and water lowers blood pressure, reduces stress hormones, and puts your body into rest and reset mode. Plants and trees give off immune boosting chemicals that help your body heal and fight off illness.

For my upcoming library presentations I am going to have a variety of natural objects on the tables for the participants to touch. Rocks, feathers, leaves, acorns…all piled up for them to explore. I can’t WAIT to hear the conversations that sparks! Many of us grew up outside, and brought a lot of nature home with us. Dirt on our clothes, worms in our pockets, feathers tucked into a braid, flowers behind our ears, fireflies in jars. So why do so many kids (and even some adults) feel that “ewwww” aversion to touching items found in nature?

That’s why I want everyone to try forest bathing! On a forest walk, you are encouraged to touch everything (except poison ivy), pick up small objects to inspect, and wrap your arms around a tree. Have you walked a path with me yet? Let’s go touch some moss!

I would also LOVE for you to share in the comments YOUR favorite thing to play with or do in the outdoors when you were growing up!! Let's share some nature memories!!

08/12/2026

I was kayaking the same little lake as a family of loons, and they were fishing near my boat. I floated for a bit and watched. The chick, obviously distressed being far away from his mother, begins calling to her and then dives to swim to her. She ignores his calls, and tries to swim away from him. She is trying to make him more independent, but he just doesn't seem ready yet. She and her mate will leave together in late September for their winter grounds (likely the Gulf of Mexico) and leave the juvenile behind. He will make his journey a week or two after them. I saw him as a tiny hatchling early this summer, and it is bittersweet to see him so close to being on his own.
You got this, little loon!
While his parents will return to this lake next spring, he will not. After 2-5 years living his best coastal life, he will eventually migrate inland and return. He will come home to his natal lake, or will often choose one within 12 miles.
Volume up!