The Rhythm That Heals the Soul

It was interesting to me how something so simple could suddenly change my perspective.

Music has always been part of my life. I grew up listening to The Beatles, U2, Queen, and so many of the great songs of the ‘70s and ‘80s. There was something about that music that brought people together. You could hear a song years later and instantly remember where you were, who you were with, and sometimes even how you felt.

Over time, music changed, or maybe I changed. Some of it seemed to move away from bringing us together and toward anger, division, and things that didn’t necessarily make us feel better about ourselves. Maybe that’s part of the reason Yacht Rock, country, Christian music, and other uplifting styles have found such loyal audiences. People are searching for something that makes them feel good again. Something that gives them hope.

I’ve always appreciated music in different ways. I once played classical music on the piano—ask me to play today and I probably couldn’t hit the right note. But I still love listening to a symphony and hearing all those different instruments somehow find their place together. Each musician is responsible for their own notes, yet they are also listening to everyone around them. Alone, each instrument creates a sound. Together, they create something much bigger.

And don’t even get me started on live musical theater. There’s something about hearing music performed right in front of you that you simply can’t recreate through a speaker.

But until recently, I don’t think I ever really understood what music was doing to us.

A couple of weeks ago, I started thinking about music differently. I learned how deeply it can affect our emotions, memories, thoughts, and even our bodies. A song can calm us. It can energize us. It can take us back twenty years in a matter of seconds. It can help us process something we don’t have the words to explain.

Music can even set our intentions for the day.

Then something happened that made the lesson even more personal.

I had Chris B. Writes on my podcast, and he talked about his son, Brayden. Every Saturday, their family goes to therapy, and music has become an important part of those sessions. Chris described the moments he, his wife, and Brayden share through music.

Listening to him, I realized this wasn’t simply about enjoying a song.

Music was creating connection.

It was creating a place where a family could communicate, experience something together, and simply be present with one another.

And now, sometimes when Saturday comes around, I find myself thinking about Chris and Brayden. I wonder what song they might hear that day, what small breakthrough might happen, or what simple moment they might share together as a family.

It’s funny how someone else’s story can stay with you like that.

Then today, I was sitting in church while the music was playing.

I looked around and noticed people singing. Some had their eyes closed. Others were raising their hands. Some weren’t doing anything at all—they were simply listening.

And for a moment, I stopped focusing on the religious meaning of what was happening and started watching the human experience.

That’s when something clicked.

Music reaches us in places ordinary conversation sometimes can’t.

Regardless of what you believe, there is something powerful about hundreds of people hearing the same rhythm, singing the same words, and experiencing the same moment together.

Maybe that’s why we sing at weddings.

Maybe that’s why music surrounds us at funerals.

Maybe that’s why athletes put on headphones before the biggest moments of their lives.

Maybe that’s why a parent sings to a baby who doesn’t even understand the words yet.

And maybe that’s why one old song can bring someone we miss back into the room, if only for three minutes.

Music doesn’t erase the difficult parts of life. It doesn’t solve every problem or make every painful memory disappear.

But it can change what happens inside us while we’re going through them.

It can shift our attention from fear toward hope, from regret toward gratitude, and from isolation toward connection.

And perhaps that’s what I had been missing all these years.

I thought music was something we listened to.

Now I’m beginning to understand that music is something we experience.

It becomes attached to our memories, our relationships, our celebrations, our losses, and the people we’ve loved along the way.

Sometimes we don’t even realize how much we need it until the right song finds us at exactly the right moment.

Music gives life a rhythm.

And sometimes, when life knocks us out of rhythm, music has a remarkable way of helping us find it again.

Maybe that’s why I’ve started thinking of it this way:

Music is a rhythm that heals the soul.

So I’ll leave you with this:

What song has carried you through a moment in your life—and when you hear it today, where does it take you?

Your Fellow Writer,
Rinaldo

Five Lessons I Learned About Music

Music is more than something we hear—it connects us, carries our memories, shifts our perspective, and sometimes gives our soul the rhythm it needs to keep moving forward.

1. Music reaches places words can’t. Sometimes a melody expresses what we’re unable to say.

2. Music connects us. A song can bring families, friends, and even strangers into the same moment.

3. Music changes our perspective. What we listen to can influence our mood, thoughts, and how we approach the day.

4. Music carries memories. A few notes can suddenly bring back a person, place, or moment from years ago.

5. Music can help us heal. It doesn’t remove life’s difficulties, but it can give us comfort, hope, and a rhythm to keep moving forward.

Thank you for reading. This work is reader-supported, and your presence here matters.

John Rinaldo writes Soul & Stories, a weekly publication centered on soul work, reflection, and the quiet process of becoming. He also hosts the live podcast Stories, Soul Work & Substack every Monday at 4 PM EST, where written ideas open into honest conversation.

He is currently working on The Hole: Forgotten in the Shadows, a documentary written and hosted by John Rinaldo and Hassan, telling the story of Italians who resisted and secretly helped smuggle Jews to safety during World War II.

Author’s Note: I have dyslexia and use assistive technologies, including AI-assisted editing, to improve grammar and readability. Every story reflects my lived experiences, voice, and final approval.

© 2026 John V. Rinaldo. All rights reserved.

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