“What does your life sound like?” It’s a question I’ve asked myself on long treks through Arches National Park and in my quietest moments of reflection. My soundtrack—like my life—has been a mix of tradition, inspiration, and a few surprising remixes. Whether I was navigating the steep cultural slopes of growing up in a devout LDS household or learning to let loose on a road trip with college friends shouting early Fleetwood Mac lyrics into the Utah wind, music has been the backbeat to it all. Let me take you through the tracks that have defined my existence—and maybe inspire you to think about your own anthology of sound.

Act 1: Hymns and Harmonies
“Come, Come, Ye Saints” or the Art of Singing in Unison

Growing up in a Latter-day Saint family, Sunday mornings meant hymns filling the house. Some families flip eggs and bacon to Top 40 radio hits. We ran on reverence, harmonizing to “The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning.” At a young age, I became fluent in four-part harmonies, folding melody and bass into the same mental jukebox as John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High,” which felt a little rebellious even if it was just... John Denver.

Looking back, I see how these early influences shaped my understanding of connection and tradition. To this day, I can hum “Come, Come, Ye Saints” in my sleep. Its message of resilience follows me, whether I’m doubting myself mid-essay draft or standing at the start of an unfamiliar trailhead.

If your soundtrack starts with family roots, let it ground you. But don’t be afraid to mix in a little discord. In music—and in life—a major chord feels richer against the tension of a minor one.

Act 2: The College Years—Indie Folk Meets Existential Dread
“Skinny Love” and Spaghetti Tuesdays

Fast forward to college. The iPod era was in full swing, and every introspective Religious Studies major worth their weight in underlined bookstore copies of The Brothers Karamazov had a Bon Iver album on loop. Mine was no different. I’d queue up “Skinny Love” while microwaving a bowl of leftover spaghetti, wondering if I’d ever figure out if faith was something I could hold onto or something meant to evolve with me.

In my dorm, music like Sufjan Stevens’ “Casimir Pulaski Day” quickly became the soundtrack to late-night conversations about meaning and mortality. It resonated because it named the sacred in the ordinary—a friendship, a heartbreak, or the soft light of sunset filtering through the dorm curtains. That mix of melancholy and hope kept me company, echoing the ups and downs of that time.

Lesson learned: Soundtracks don’t have to be perfectly curated or endlessly upbeat. Sometimes, the best playlists lean into the dissonance, giving you room to feel messy emotions.

Act 3: Love and Road Trips
Fleetwood Mac and the Art of Agreeing to Disagree

Somewhere in my early twenties, I discovered one irrefutable truth about relationships: there’s always an argument waiting to happen over the road trip playlist. My then-girlfriend (now wife) and I learned this during an impromptu “let’s-get-out-of-town” drive to Moab. She leaned toward early-2000s emo—Dashboard Confessional, Paramore—and I was deep into my 70s classic rock phase.

Naturally, Fleetwood Mac became our middle ground. Put on “Go Your Own Way,” and it’s impossible not to belt out the chorus, even if you’re mid-disagreement on the quickest route to Grand Junction. Stevie Nicks has that power. On one particularly heated leg of the drive, I yelled, “If we can’t agree on the playlist, we’re turning around!” She laughed, and “Dreams” came on. Balance restored.

In relationships, it’s like that sometimes—it’s not about controlling the stereo. You’ve got to compromise, find the rhythm that works, and maybe even laugh about it when the first track sparks a debate.

Act 4: Solitude in the Silence
Nature’s Playlist—When Words Fail, Let the Canyon Speak

Lately, my playlists often take the form of the natural world—no lyrics necessary. There’s a moment of quiet, halfway up Zion’s Angels Landing hike, when the only sounds are your breath and the wind slicing through the canyon walls. For me, that’s a track that’s always on repeat.

When words leave your tongue heavy, when playlists feel too curated or overwhelming, it’s okay to strip it all back. Turn the volume button all the way down and see what rises up in the silence. There’s wisdom in that, too.

Wrap Up: Make Your Life Playlist

So, what’s your soundtrack? Is it a mix of family-car classics, post-breakup Adele deep-dives, or power anthems for the next chapter of your journey? Whatever it is—let it be yours.

Sometimes life will ask you to pause. Other times, it’ll demand you hit repeat until you’ve wrung every lyric dry. And occasionally, life just needs you to hum a few bars under your breath as you quietly work through your next revelation.

Here’s my advice: curate with intention but leave room for surprises. Not every song will be a hit, not every album will resonate, but every note will—eventually—fit.