The Soundtrack of Your Life: How Music Connects Us to Memory, Identity, and Healing

🎧 I've had music on my mind a lot lately. Every time I hear a song that holds memories for me I am transported right back to the place and time I first heard that song. Maybe it’s the raw emotion of a song that played during a pivotal chapter in my life, or maybe it's the joy of a track that lit up my serotonin that made me have a perfect day. To me, music is more than just background noise, it’s a living entity that holds our memories, our struggles, our transformations. Have you ever felt that feeling inside when a song you like starts playing and your body starts moving? That's it! Music makes us come alive. 

Today's world moves so fast and asks so much of us, and music gently invites us to take a pause. I love music because it helps us to remember and also to feel. 

Music as Memory

It’s no coincidence that a single chord can bring us to tears or laughter. Our brains store music differently than words, embedding it deep into the emotional center of our memory. The song playing when you lost a loved one, the mixtape from your first love, the lullaby you sang to your kids or your niece or nephew. All of this lives on, long after the music has stopped and there'll be more music to come to store even more memories. Sometimes our own thoughts and ideas get buried beneath our memories. Revisiting music from our past can be a gentle way to reconnect with who we were and what we've survived. I know it does for me.  

Music as Identity

Our playlists say more about u than we realize. The angst of our teen years. The empowerment of our survival or the self-care we are needing right in this moment. Maybe we need quiet, acoustic tracks for a bit of rest. Maybe we need pumped up jams to get us going. Maybe we're feeling sad or melancholy and we need to commiserate with our old friend music. For me, there are many songs that take me back. James Blunt You're Beautiful was playing when I had my last visit with my amazing grandmother. I'll never forget that song and it always reminds me of her and how we'll never be together again. 

A few years ago, I lost my step-father, a truly one of a kind father to me and beloved grandfather to my kids. It broke my heart that he and my mom had to face the harsh reality that his cancer was not going to go away and they weren't going to be together. As I wallowed in this reality as well, I kept hearing the song A Thousand Years by Christina Perry o the radio. Even today, I can't listen to this song without feeling the pain of losing him. The pain for our family, my mom, and because the world lost one of its kindest humans. 

As we grow and experience milestones in our lives, our personal soundtrack continues to grow as well. Sometimes, it hurts and sometimes it brings joy to rediscover the songs we once loved. This reminds me of a dark time in my life and for real, my soundtrack was extremely dismal at that time. A few years later I listened to that playlist and I realized that it was a dark time and I was struggling, but these songs got me through that tough time and through that transition in my life. I evolved over time and music helped me to pave that way to a renewed sense of being. I think I mentioned in a previous post that I listened to TheFatRat on repeat while I was writing my book. That soundtrack had so much energy and power and it really kept me going. I love that I can always go back and tap into that energy at any time. 

Music gives us permission to show up exactly as we are: fierce, uncertain, joyful, messy, resilient.

What songs are you feeling right now? I've got a few. Otis Redding's Dreams to Remember is playing right now as I write this. Earlier this morning listened to Djo's End of Beginning on repeat for a while. I've been seeing signs in my life everywhere that I need to slow down, stop and take a breather, and rejuvenate and I really need to listen to these messages from the universe. And just like that, the song Turn, Turn, Turn pops up on my player. Well, isn't that a great message in real-time!

Music as Self-Care

When the world feels loud and overwhelming, music can offer us a safety net. It lets us scream without making a sound (unless we want to scream out loud to Alanis's You Oughta Know). Music lifts us when we need courage, and holds us when we need comfort. For me, music has been a companion during hard days in the library (I have a playlist just for my library and it starts out with Devil Town by Tony Lucca). I am no stranger to making playlists. I made multiple song lists during my battle with cancer. And after, continuous soundtracks for the healing process and going forward. Looking back at my Youtube channel, I have made at least one playlist every year for the last ten years. These playlists filled with songs that speak to me in many different ways have helped me to cry, breathe, celebrate, and find hope again. 

Whether it’s a morning coffee track or a work out playlist or a calming bedtime list of songs that soothe your soul, your playlist can be a powerful self-care ritual. I would highly recommend using the app Shazam to capture song artists and titles when you hear a new song you like. 

If you could make a playlist of five songs that calm or encourage you, what would they be? If you make the list, all you need to do is press play when you need a little balance or a calming session. When I'm feeling nostalgic I look for hidden gems in my life's soundtrack. The songs that live in our minds and hearts aren’t just echoes from the past, they’re signposts. We can look at them as reminders, anchors, and many times they are lifelines.

So, what’s on your soundtrack? What songs tell the story of who you’ve been - and - who are you becoming?

Whether you need to cry, celebrate, heal, or just breathe, there is music out there waiting just for you. Go find it. Or, let it find you 😊 

I'm going to share my favorite morning playlist that I just happened to stumble across one day about a year ago. It changed my life! 

Morning Coffee ☕ Happy Music to Start Your Day

Wishing you rest, resilience, and rhythm,

🎶 the Compassionate Librarian 🎶

Radical Love in the Library: Seeing the Humanity in Everyone

 Getting to the Heart of Library Work

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

— Rumi

When I think of the library, I think about how much I love being surrounded by books and people all day long. I learned about the concept of radical love a very long time ago and I have always been fascinated by the work of the poet Rumi. Radical love is at the very heart of what we library workers do, especially when we serve those the world has overlooked.

Radical love is not cutesy hearts, flowers or hugs and kisses. It’s not warm and fuzzy. It’s not passive. It’s absolutely fierce. It’s uncomfortable and pushes you out of your comfort zone more times than you will know. It requires presence, humility, and the willingness to sit beside someone dealing with internal pain. The key here is that you can't try to erase their pain, but instead, you must embrace it. 

Let's Talk More About Radical Love

Radical love is the kind of love that reaches past convenience and Rumi well-known for writing about this in his poems. Radical love is a love that sees the humanity in everyone and everything. It is not bound by titles, appearances, or how you feel. It is the kind of love that walks straight into the places others turn away from very much like the things we see on the daily at the library. poverty, addiction, grief, fear. Radical love speaks to our vulnerable neighbors, “You belong here too.”

In library work, we are invited on the daily into opportunities to practice this love.

When we speak kindly to someone who’s unhoused.
When we offer warmth to someone who’s angry.
When we are welcoming to someone who’s afraid to ask for our help.

Radical love is not about being perfect or endlessly self-sacrificing. It’s about recognizing our shared humanity and responding with empathy, not ego.

Love as a Path

Rumi’s version of love isn’t something you fall into. It is a path. A discipline. A practice. A way of returning to the heart again and again. When you think about library work, isn’t that what our calling is after all?

Library work challenges us to let go of our assumptions, check our reactions, and show up with compassion, even when we’re tired, even when we don’t get recognition, even when we ourselves are hurting.

There have been many moments in my own journey over the last twenty years in libraries when I realized:

I’m not here to fix people. I’m here to listen to them. Walk beside them. Hold space for their light, even if they can’t see it yet.

Radical love in the library is about choosing compassion, not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. It reminds us that our patrons are not problems to be managed, they are people to be seen.

The Poetry of Service and Connection

“Be like a tree and let the dead leaves drop."

— Rumi

There’s something sacred about serving those who are in need and there’s something poetic about connection that blooms in unexpected places. When someone walks through our doors and feels unseen, ignored, or written off by the world, we have the power to "drop our dead leaves" and help them. With one smile, with one hello, we can transform lives.

These are the moments that stay with us 🦋
The teen who finally feels safe enough to open up.
The elderly patron who finds comfort in friendly conversations.
The person experiencing homelessness who smiles when you say hello or welcome.

Radical love is poetry in motion. It is the line between silence and kindness. The rhythm of showing kindness and compassion again and again. This kind of service allows the dead leaves to drop and new foliage to bloom.

Libraries as Sacred Ground

When we root our work in radical love, the library becomes more than a resource hub, it becomes sacred ground. A place where equity lives, where hope can breathe, where transformation quietly takes root. We don't have to call it spiritual. We don't have to name it anything at all. We know it when we feel it. That still, quiet moment when someone realizes they are welcome in the library makes all the difference in the world.

Reflect With Me

Here are a few reflection questions to consider as you think about radical love in your own library work, especially if you're navigating burnout, compassion fatigue, or disconnection:

• When was the last time you offered a welcoming smile to someone who didn’t expect it and how did it make you feel?

• What barriers have you had to release in order to serve with your heart?
  
  

• Can you remember a time when someone offered you radical love in your work or life?

Final Thoughts

Radical love doesn’t ask us to fix everything. It asks us to show up. To listen and to remember that the library is more than just a building. It’s a place where everyone should be met with warmth. Where the overlooked are welcomed. Where the work of transformation is happening, but very quietly, on most days.

If you’re doing even just a little right now, you’re already walking that path, so kudos to you!

Here’s to the poetry of your service. Here’s to radical love, even when it’s hard. Here’s to seeing the humanity in every person who walks through our doors.

With fierce love,
the Compassionate Librarian