I went to do some soul-searching today. I went down to the Brenke Fish Ladder in Old Town, because that’s where I go. That’s where I feel like I’m close to the heart of Lansing. That’s where I feel connected to myself and my surroundings.

Lansing’s river walk trail goes right through here, and intersects with an access point to the river itself. The access point is a beautiful deck that (usually) sits just above the water level, and continues a natural jut into the river. To the right side of this deck is a set of cement stairs that lead down into the river itself. Those stairs are an excellent place to sit, watch the river, and contemplate. That’s where I was headed.

A few thunderstorms ago, the Grand River had risen to its highest level in years. The water came up nearly a foot above the stairs, and should have completely hidden the deck from sight, save for the railings. For some reason, the deck’s posts didn’t stay secured in the bed of the river during the storm. The deck floated up as the water rose, pulling its posts free and damaging all of the points where it was connected to the rest of the deck, which was mounted to dry land. Today, when I went there to do some serious thinking, it was still blocked off, and in need of repairs.

I chuckled when I saw that… the deck is how I feel. Still standing up, still in one piece as far as the eye can tell, but in no shape for use. Who knows how much weight it would take to push out one of the posts or break the sections of wood planks apart. I decided that bathing in irony was preferable to bathing in the Grand River, so I headed over to the fish ladder itself.

I passed a few fishermen and a few park-goers before I passed around the pumping (?) station and down the amphitheater inside the ring made by the fish ladder. I walked the steps, looking over the side as the water from the river made its way down to the post-man-made-waterfall river. I noted where the sand had gathered from the repeated floods, and stepped through the ever-present silt on the bottom level. Enough has gathered that weeds have taken root, despite not having access to the concrete itself. I sat down on one of the amphitheater’s seats, put my heads in my hands, and moped about what I would do.

I asked my city to help me, to aid me, and to direct me. Yes, that’s a bit pagan of me, but hey… I’m pagan. :) How often do Christians ask to be shown the way or be given a hint in their prayers? I was just asking somebody more local. And it wasn’t in vain. I never get straight-up answers. Flashes of insight or clarity sometimes, a remembered song lyric or snippet of conversation other times. This time, I felt that Lansing and my heightened frustrations of late would be healed hand in hand. Okay, so what the crap does that mean?

Are we talking healing through helping the economy? That would point me to putting all of my efforts into the proto company. Are we talking more of a leadership role? Should I focus on my glorious, hilarious, possibly effectual irony fest? Or are we talking about something as simple and long-term as being a father to my son and stepsons? Something that I feel like I am failing gloriously at, BTW. So, with cryptic answer in hand, I sought out free wireless access and delicious coffee, which is where I’m at now.

I’m in a funk. A trough. (Anything to avoid saying a depression-related low?) I’m snapping for no reason, and the kids are bearing the brunt of it. I’m desperate for a job. I want to be left alone, all of the time. When people try to get close to me, I shrink away, and try to keep my personal space sacred. I’m so completely wrapped up in this that it’s a nearly impossible task to consider others.

This is not the right state of mind in which to be a good father. Or a good husband. Or a good anything. I can only use my favorite spots in the city as an emotional crutch for so long.

Becoming an insomniac isn’t working. New solutions must be found.

Also, the Temple Club has a “SOLD” sign on it.