About Samuel Hanser
Samuel Hanser, better known as Sam, was my son. He was born in Stockton, California, almost exactly two years after the birth and death of his newborn sister. He died just three weeks after the birth of his twin nephews to his older sister, Leora, and two weeks prior to what would have been his 28th birthday. Sam reminded me constantly of the precariously balanced universe of birth and death, and his life in between was perched on the edge.
He engaged passionately in living each moment fully. As Sam’s mother, I knew him as a sensitive boy who grew into a soulful young man. As he experienced the struggles and triumphs of his short life, his cries of pain and of glee irrigated his theories of living. In infancy, he was diagnosed with eczema and asthma, making every day uncomfortable to exist in his frail shell. His skin was itchy, cracked and peeling; his lungs never filled completely with a deep breath. He was short in stature, and withstood daily taunting by the neighborhood bullies.
He was an unusual child, always asking “Why?” – always listening intently, and always snuggling close to anyone who was in need of support. I remember coming home and talking with the children about an argument with a colleague. He listened in silence while I ranted on about the cycles of miscommunications and misunderstandings that transpired. He closed his eyes, and I assumed that he was bored. As I started to walk away, he said, “She was never loved. She doesn’t know how to love. You will have to show her your love before you can communicate with her.”
Being a spiritual little boy was never easy. He told me things that were hard to understand, things for which I had absolutely no response. He said that there was an angel on his right shoulder to advise him and a spirit guide on his left to protect him. And what could I say to my child when he told me that out of all of the mothers in the universe he chose me to be his mom?
Although quiet and contemplative at home and school, Sam was an ardent actor and singer who came alive on stage. His still, small voice reverberated with enthusiasm as Will Rogers’ son in “Will Rogers Follies.” He showed some talent, landing several roles in the Palo Alto Children’s Theatre, but the visual arts were not particularly his forte. He never sketched or doodled like budding artists do. So when he decided to attend Parson’s School of Design with a major in architecture and design, our family was very confused. We didn’t know that, even then, he was hatching a master plan to empower people to heal themselves, known as “The Healing Empowerment Center.” We had no idea that he was designing a building to house Eastern and Western healers to teach people how to heal their bodies, minds, and souls. We didn’t see that this wise soul was already helping others in simple, natural, almost childlike ways.
Years later, a friend of mine described Sam’s lasting lessons to her:
We sat in my living room together then, side by side, he held his hands over my body and said that I needed more light. He suggested that I go outside as much as possible and find a place to sit, raise my face to the sun, and let it fill my entire body. I began doing this in Boston, and carried on the practice wherever I went.
Although my friend was 51 years old at the time, and Sam only 20, she called him her healing light, to which she looked whenever she felt sad or fearful.
At Sam’s funeral, Rabbi Wesley Gardenswartz said that Sam was a teacher, a rabbi whose words were psalms to help us heal. But he was also a young man who lived every moment on earth with intensity and fervor. His conversations were about love and life, truth and death. He listened with two ears and a heart, and his advice came from a place of knowing. His sister Raviva, and stepsister/soul sister Shira, explain:
Sam’s passion for others was powerfully expressed through the profound connections he developed with his many, many close friends. People often express how it is our friends and not our family that we choose; however, Sam believed that his soul picked both, and that his closest friends were a type of family too – ‘soul family.’ Through the idea of a ‘soul family’, Sam explained the even deeper than blood connections that our souls find through the meaningful relationships we develop.
Sam challenged us to make peace within ourselves, with each other, and within our wide, wide world. He also gave us an instruction guide on life and love, and truth and death in this book. Our family published this book, Many Blessings: The Remembrance of One, posthumously. Written at age 20 for his sister Raviva, on the occasion of her Bat Mitzvah, it is a promise he made to her, as Sam says in the Preface, “long before we were born, to share the culmination of my wisdom in this life.”
SAM'S DREAM
