yet in any case seemed beside the point, in light of the clarity and force with which the knowledge had suddenly and quietly come. As sure as Iam, it had come from some “other place,” higher or deeper, and that wasall I needed know.Explaining such experiences can suggest (misleadingly) “a big deal,” andit was not. It was simple, yet extraordinary. In retrospect, the
was as if the plan had been waiting for me “outside of time,” full andcomplete. Once the moment had arrived when the next breath, or step, would offer the “click” leading me at last into readiness, the awarenessdawned upon me with no more effort than either the breath, or the step.
It was time.
Growing up in Miami, it seemed as if I had always heard tales told of, and readabout the “Devil’s Punch Bowl.” As described by Howard Kleinberg in hiswonderful picture book of the area’s history,
Miami: The Way We Were
Situated about two miles south of the Miami River, along theshore of the bay, is one of perhaps Miami’s most mysterious andromantic historic sites– the Devil’s Punch Bowl. Located on whatnow is private property just south of Wainwright Park andimmediately north of Vizcaya– In the 3000 block of Brickell– thePunch Bowl was a fresh water spring close to the shore.Historians, while agreeing that not enough research has beendone on the Punch Bowl, also say that its water has quenchedthe thirsts of Indians, explorers, pirates and pioneers through thecenturies.