Excerpt from

Letters to Sam: A Grandfather's Lessons on

Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life

”The Journey Inside”

by Dr. Daniel Gottlieb

In 2006, Dr. Daniel Gottlieb, Philadelphia psychotherapist, columnist, radio personality, and author, published Letters to Sam: A Grandfather’s Lessons of Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life. Dr. Gottlieb and Sterling Publishing have graciously granted Empty Nest permission to reprint a chapter from the book. In “The Journey Inside,” Dr. Dan shares how “going forth” as a young adult can sometimes only be successful by “going within.” The truth of one’s parents is not necessarily one’s own truth, and young people begin their journey when they leave the nest. It is then they learn to rely on themselves and build the strength they need to face whatever life dishes out to them. Gottlieb (a quadriplegic due to a freak accident years ago) wrote the book for his autistic grandson—thus passing wisdom from one generation to the next—but the lessons he imparts can benefit readers of all ages.

Reprinted with permission of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc., from LETTERS TO SAM by Daniel Gottlieb. Copyright © 2006 by Daniel Gottlieb.

Dear Sam,

The Bible says that God told Abraham to leave his father’s home—to depart from the land that he knew and “go forth.” And as he went forward, he should have faith that he would be cared for.

In “going forth,” I think Abraham was really setting out to find the missing part of his soul. And a rabbi friend of mine tells me that the literal translation of the words in the Bible lech le’cha is “to go inside.” So his journey was not just external. It was also a journey into himself.

One day, Sam, you will go forward on your journey. And when you do, you will face great fear and great hope. The journey inside could be the most courageous journey of all.

***

With all of these burdens, I failed most of my courses. I wasn’t allowed to register for the second semester. This was in the middle of the Vietnam War, a war that frightened me, as well a war I didn’t believe in—and I knew if I couldn’t stay in college, I would probably be drafted. If I couldn’t make the grades to keep me in college, I would end up over in Vietnam fighting that war.

I did what I had always done when I felt scared and alone. I called my mother.

For the first time, she said, “I can’t help you from here. You have to do it on your own.”

That’s the moment I identify as the preface to my journey.

I insisted on meeting with the president of the university, and with a lot of persistence, I finally got to see him. I told him my story and asked him for another chance. He agreed to let me stay one more semester. Something about that moment changed me too.

As it turned out, though, the expectations of the school were beyond me. I wound up going, the next year, to the only full-time night school in the region, which happened to be at a Catholic university. It turned out to be one of the most important years of my life. I lived alone. I made no friends. But I developed some academic skills, surprised myself with my resilience, and discovered my ability to tolerate solitude. My real journey began there—in solitude.

***

I have prominently displayed in my office a poem by an anonymous author. It’s called “Come to the Edge”:

“COME TO THE EDGE!”
“No, we cannot . . . we are afraid.”
“COME TO THE EDGE!”
“No, we cannot . . . we will fall.”
“COME TO THE EDGE!”
And they came and he pushed them,
and they flew!

***

When you hit late adolescence, you will leave your parents’ home—if not literally, certainly metaphorically. You will have to go forth—and go within—to create your own life.

Take with you the wisdom you have acquired from your parents, your grandparents, and your teachers. But remember, their wisdom is not necessarily your truth. Like Abraham, you must go forward in faith, and you must always be attentive to the quiet voice of your heart.

Love,
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