Berlin, 1915. Albert Einstein was 36 years old, worn thin by war and nearly a decade of relentless work. For years, he had chased an idea that consumed him, scribbling equations, revising drafts, and starting over more times than he could count. That fall, the breakthrough finally came. He distilled his theory of general relativity into just two pages, two pages that would change humanity’s understanding of the universe.

But Einstein wasn’t only a scientist working in isolation. He was also a father, separated from his family, with two young sons living in Zurich alongside his estranged wife. The distance weighed on him. He longed to be present, to remind them he wasn’t just a name in a textbook or a figure at the blackboard, but their father. Days after completing what he would call one of the most beautiful works of his life, Einstein turned from equations to something far more personal. He penned a letter to his son Hans Albert. The letter was not written about physics but about love, learning, and following curiosity wherever it leads.

The part of the letter that resonated with me the most was this line: “That is the way to learn the most, that when you are doing something with such enjoyment that you don’t notice that the time passes.”

That’s not a scientist talking. That’s a father, a teacher, a human being who knew what it felt like to be so caught up in something that hours disappeared.

Einstein starts the letter by admitting to his son that it’s “awkward” when he visits, since Hans was living with his mother and younger brother in Zurich after Einstein’s marriage had unraveled. He promises to make more time together, an entire month each year, so Hans will know he has a father who loves him.

I don’t know about you, but I find that incredibly moving. We tend to picture Einstein as this wild-haired genius with chalk dust on his hands, but here he is, just a dad trying to bridge the gap with his kid.

And then, like any parent who notices a spark in their child, he encourages Hans’s new love of the piano. Not just any piano lesson, though. He tells him to play what he enjoys, even if it isn’t what the teacher assigns, because joy is the secret to real learning.

It’s such a simple idea, but one that often gets buried under all the complexities of education and growth. Sometimes we make things more complicated than they need to be.

As a journalist, I spend my life chasing stories, deadlines, and sometimes the elusive perfect sentence. As a mom, I’ve watched my own kids grow up under the weight of expectations: grades, teams, college applications. The message is often: perform, check the boxes, succeed.

But when I think about what Einstein told Hans, I can’t help but nod because I’ve seen it. The most powerful kind of learning doesn’t happen when we’re grinding through something just to get it done. It happens when we fall into a state of flow, where time seems to disappear.

For my daughter, it was when she lost herself in writing, long before she called herself a journalist. For my son, it was hours on the ice, practicing slap shots, because hockey wasn’t homework – it was love. For my middle son, it was the hours of practice and dedication, fighting through injuries to earn his black belt in Taekwondo. Those were the things they carried with them, long after the worksheets and exams faded.

Einstein was right. Joy is the teacher. Passion is the fuel. And the lessons that stick are the ones that light us up inside.

Einstein didn’t just stop at advice for his son. Over the years, he dropped other little gems about life. When a college student once asked him, “Why are we alive?” he answered simply: “To create satisfaction for ourselves and for other people.”

In 1922, scribbled on hotel stationery, he offered what he called his “theory of happiness”: “A calm and modest life brings more happiness than the pursuit of success combined with constant restlessness.”

That last one feels like it was written for our time. We live in a culture obsessed with chasing more, more achievement, more status, more noise. But Einstein, the man who literally rewrote the universe, reminds us that peace and contentment are worth more than constant striving.

What I Take Away

For me, Einstein’s letter is more than a father talking to his son. It’s a reminder to all of us to slow down, to remember why we learn, why we work, why we create. It isn’t about ticking off requirements or impressing strangers. It’s about finding those pursuits that make us forget the clock, the ones that keep calling us back even when no one is watching.

As a writer, I know that feeling when the words start to pour out and suddenly the sun begins its ascent. That’s my sweet spot. It’s not always pretty, and it certainly doesn’t always happen on command, but when it does, it’s precisely what Einstein meant.

As a parent, I hold onto the hope that my kids will always find something that brings them joy. Not because it’ll land them a job or look good on a résumé, but because joy itself is the point.

Einstein could have kept his head buried in equations, and maybe no one would’ve blamed him. Instead, he gave his son, and by extension, us, a piece of advice that will never expire: follow the things that make you forget the hours.

In the end, the genius wasn’t just in his theory of relativity. It was in his relatability. He understood that the heart of learning isn’t pressure or perfection, it’s passion. And that’s a truth that matters just as much in a music room, a newsroom, or a kitchen table covered in homework as it does in a physics lab.

The Letter:

My dear Albert,

Yesterday I received your dear letter and was very happy with it. I was already afraid you wouldn’t write to me at all any more. You told me when I was in Zurich, that it is awkward for you when I come to Zurich. Therefore I think it is better if we get together in a different place, where nobody will interfere with our comfort. I will in any case urge that each year we spend a whole month together, so that you see that you have a father who is fond of you and who loves you. You can also learn many good and beautiful things from me, something another cannot as easily offer you. What I have achieved through such a lot of strenuous work shall not only be there for strangers but especially for my own boys. These days I have completed one of the most beautiful works of my life, when you are bigger, I will tell you about it.

I am very pleased that you find joy with the piano. This and carpentry are in my opinion for your age the best pursuits, better even than school. Because those are things which fit a young person such as you very well. Mainly play the things on the piano which please you, even if the teacher does not assign those. That is the way to learn the most, that when you are doing something with such enjoyment that you don’t notice that the time passes. I am sometimes so wrapped up in my work that I forget about the noon meal. . . .

Be with Tete kissed by your

Papa.Regards to Mama.