There is a type of poem, the Found Poem, that records an author’s discovery of the beauty that occasionally occurs in the everyday discourse of others. Such a poem might be words scrawled on a wadded scrap of paper, or buried in the classified ads, or on a billboard by the road. The poet makes it his or her poem by holding it up for us to look at. Here the Washington, D.C., poet Joshua Weiner directs us to the poetry in a letter written not by him but to him. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Found Letter

What makes for a happier life, Josh, comes to this:   

Gifts freely given, that you never earned;   

Open affection with your wife and kids;   

Clear pipes in winter, in summer screens that fit;   

Few days in court, with little consequence;   

A quiet mind, a strong body, short hours   

In the office; close friends who speak the truth;   

Good food, cooked simply; a memory that’s rich   

Enough to build the future with; a bed   

In which to love, read, dream, and re-imagine love;   

A warm, dry field for laying down in sleep,   

And sleep to trim the long night coming;   

Knowledge of who you are, the wish to be   

None other; freedom to forget the time;   

To know the soul exceeds where it’s confined   

Yet does not seek the terms of its release,   

Like a child’s kite catching at the wind   

That flies because the hand holds tight the line.

Life’s so busy, isn’t it? Our days are full of work, play, family, friends—and it’s good to have a full life. But it’s also good to slow down once in a while to notice the beautiful moments. Summer is perfect for this, because generally life’s fast pace slows down somewhat, and you might have a little more time to look for and appreciate those moments.

I’d like to share two beautiful moments I’ve had recently with my horse, Tank. He now shares a paddock with a small group of horses during the day (he still eats and spends the night in his smaller “private” paddock). I think likes being with his new friends, all mares except for a two-year old colt. At first, I wondered how this would affect how he feels about my coming to get him. When he lived alone, he was eager to see me. Would he still whinny, come to meet me at the gate, be happy to see me? Happily, the answer to these questions is yes. One of those moments I was talking about occurred last week as I stood at the gate of the large paddock, lead rope and halter in hand. Tank left his buddies and came to me, ears pricked, expression asking, “What are we doing today?” I stood there, melting into my boots (and not just because it was 92 degrees), marveling that this lovely, powerful creature belongs to me, knows me, looks to me for attention and guidance. After owning him for eight years, I sometimes take him for granted. Every now and then, I wake up the miracle of his presence in my life.

The second moment with Tank happened on Saturday. After we tacked up, I had a few minutes to wait until the riding lesson started, so I sat down in one of the green plastic outdoor chairs clustered under the trees. Tank stood next to me, relaxed, so I began to stroke and massage his ears and poll (the top of his head). He seemed to like it, slowly blinking his eyes and lowering his head. When I stopped, he left his head low, so I leaned forward and breathed into his nostrils (one way horses greet each other). I gently touched his muzzle with my forehead while we inhaled and exhaled together. We stayed like that for a few minutes, and I don’t know about Tank, but I found this so soothing that I nearly fell asleep.

My beautiful moments had nothing to do with achievement or accomplishing a goal. For once, I put aside my jabbering mind, my busyness, and relaxed into the present moment. I want to have more experiences like this—with Tank and in all areas of my life—moments where time stands still and the to-do list falls from memory, moments in which I truly realize how lucky I am and how grateful I am for my life.

I hope that you experience beautiful moments such as these. If you feel comfortable doing so, please share them in the comments. I’d love to hear from you.

Ah, the crack of the bat, the noise of the crowd, the smell of the…pressed Cuban sandwiches? That’s how we do it, here in Tampa Bay.

Yesterday my family and I went to a Tampa Bay Rays game—I’m the baseball fan in the family, so a summer isn’t complete for me without a game or two over at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg. We like going to day games during the week—the crowds are usually smaller and we don’t get home at midnight.  (We’re fuddy-duddies, I admit.)

We had a great crowd today, more than 27,000. Lots of kids from local camps and childcare centers banging thunder sticks and hoping to catch a foul ball.

My favorite part:

The Tropicana Field roof—and the air conditioning contained therein.

Rays lefthander David Price getting ready to pitch.

Sorry, I didn’t get a photo of the Cuban sandwich before we ate it...

Oh, and best of all, the Rays beat Cleveland 6-0. And since Rays pitching struck out 10, we all get coupons for free pizza from Papa John’s!

Rays baseball—an awesome summer tradition. What are you favorite summer traditions?

I just bought a new battery for my laptop, and for some reason I decided to read the single-page instruction manual it came with. I learned:

Never throw the battery pack into fire, as that could cause the battery pack to explode.

Never short-circuit the main battery pack by either accidentally or intentionally bringing the terminals in contact with another metal object. This could cause personal injury or a fire, and could also damage the battery pack.

Never hammer a nail into the battery pack.

Never hit a hammer on the battery pack.

You know someone, somewhere has done each one of these things. Possibly my son.

What I want to know is…why?

Why would you want to throw a laptop battery into a fire? Hit it with a hammer or pound a nail into it? The only reason I can think of is to find out what happens. Personally, I can’t imagine anything good coming from those actions, but that’s just me. I’m pretty cautious about experimentation.

But thankfully, not everyone is like me. We need people who are curious and test boundaries, or we’d never have inventions like the laptop and its battery-that-shouldn’t-be-hammered. People who step outside their comfort zones to try experiments the average person wouldn’t dream of have made the world an immeasurably better place, often at great cost to themselves. I’m grateful for the men and women who want to find out what happens. (All I ask is that they pause for a moment to ask themselves what could go wrong, and how they’re going to cope if it does.)

Once again, I guess people can be divided into two categories: Those who put their laptop batteries in their computers and those who come at them with a hammer. Which one are you?