Yesterday I posted on Facebook that I had finally locked in dates for my “Front Door” walk, by actually booking airline flights.

My “Front Door” walk is a pilgrimage walk of some 3000kms. I’ll leave out the front door of my house in Mudgee in Central New South Wales, walk about 300kms to Sydney airport, then on Monday 12th of November I’ll fly to London Heathrow, walk from the airport to my place of birth, Wimbledon – from there I’ll walk down to Newhaven on the English coast, cross the channel by ferry, land in Dieppe on the French coast, walk from there to Chatres Cathedral, from there to Orleans in the Loire, from there I’ll drop down to the Veyzelay Camino and walk through to Santiago de Compostela, then to Cape Finisterre. The End of the Earth.

So I’ll walk from my front door to the end of the earth – doesn’t that sound cool?

I’ve booked to come back March1st next year. I estimate it will take me about 4 months, averaging 25kms a day. I want to do what the pilgrims used to do in ages past – walk out their front door and walk to Santiago.

So why did I do that – publicly announce what I intend to do? Usually I don’t talk about things until after I’ve done them.

The legendary bushman, RM Williams, once told me that he lived by the axiom: “To say is to do.”  I never forgot that. And I’ve tried to live by it myself, too.

To say is to do.
Now that I’ve said it, I’ve bloody well got to do it!

But there’s more to it than that, of course.

I’m going through an intense work phase at the moment, and that won’t abate until the end of October. So the walk will be my little reward to myself for these past couple of years of making the film and writing the books.

But the real reason I posted yesterday is that I was excited! After thinking about this walk and planning it for so long, I finally put definite dates on it.

I was excited.

Now in amongst everything else, I have to prepare for it. Which means getting fit again, because after all the recent travel I’ve lost fitness. And it means working out my route in detail, and thinking about what will be in my backpack. I’ll hit France and Spain in January and February – mid winter.

Then there’s my knee. Last I checked I’d run out of cartilage in my knee joint. The orthopaedic surgeon told me to get WD40-type injections. I didn’t. He told me to wear a $1,500 brace every time I walk. I quickly got bored with that.

I should get another MRI before I set off but I’m scared what it might reveal, so I won’t.

It seems like I’m deliberately trying to make this walk as difficult for myself as possible.

I’m currently writing the book of the film I’ve made:  PGS – Intuition is your Personal Guidance System.

The book is taking longer than I anticipated.
Just as the film did.

But I thought I’d share with you an extract about humility. I believe humility is key to accessing the full benefits of your intuitive system.

I’m hoping the book will be out mid year – in the meantime, here is this extract:

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HUMBLE UP –

This is a term that Caroline Myss uses, and I love it.

Humble up.

Many people see humility as a weakness. I’ve learned to see it as a strength. In this highly competitive world, you’re taught to not only be the top dog, but to tell everyone from a great height that you’re the top dog. You have to scream it from the rooftops, or more likely now, YouTube or Instagram.

And to get to those dizzy heights of being the top dog you have to be brash, assertive, aggressive, you have to see yourself as being the best. Along with that comes arrogance, ego, self-aggrandisment, and noise. Plenty of noise. Around you, and inside you. Humility is for losers. Humility is for those that can never make it. The weak. The ineffectual. The babies.

I call these so-called “winners” Roman Candles. They launch up into the air all a glitter, they burn bright for a short while, then they plummet to earth in darkness, never to be seen again.

Humility is strength.
Humility is quiet.
Humility is stillness.
Humility lasts.

 I watched the Super Bowl yesterday. I’m Australian and I don’t understand American football, but I do understand human nature. There was this guy, he’s a quarterback, whatever that is, and from what all the commentators said, he was a pretty damn good quarterback. His name was Tom Brady. The sporting pundits said he was a legend. Yet when he was interviewed, he was humble. Very humble. He seemed like a regular kind of bloke.

Same with interviews I’ve seen with Roger Federer. He’s one of the greatest tennis players of all time. And man o man, is he humble. Same with Kelly Slater. He’s won the world title for surfboard riding a gazillion times. In his field, he’s a great.

These are just sporting legends. There are legends in all fields – science, medicine, the arts, in business and commerce – and the one thing these legends, these true greats, have in common is that they’re humble. They don’t need to talk themselves up. Their actions do that for them. Their achievements. Look at Elon Musk. He’s so humble you sometimes think he’s a robot. Maybe he is.

The other thing about these greats? They’re quiet. And they’re still. Elon Musk is quiet and still. And in this footy game yesterday, this Super Bowl, I noticed that when Tom Brady’s team scored a touchdown, and everyone else was jumping around and whopping and hollering, Tom Brady was still and quiet and reflective. And when things didn’t go his way and he dropped a pass, if that’s the term, he was the same way. He never got caught up in the emotion of winning, or losing. He stayed in energetic balance. That to me was the sign of a true great.

You can’t hope to become intuitive if you’re arrogant, brash, or full of yourself. You have to humble up, and see it not as a weakness, but as the greatest strength that you can possibly have. Because at the heart of humility is a rock-hard sense of belief in yourself. And your self.

You don’t need to tell people you’re great. And you don’t need people to tell you you’re great. You are great, you know you’re great, but that greatness lies in knowing that you’re an aspect of the divine, incarnated for a short while in the current body you inhabit. And that all this noise around you is meaningless. And transitory. And the only thing that lasts is your true self.

photo: Chema Perez-Ullivarri

I’m in America now and I’ve been traveling from screening to screening, doing Q&As. The film continues to sell out, and continues to have an enormous impact on a lot of people.

This post isn’t about that –
It’s about how my intuition saved my butt..
In particular, how it saved me from driving 400 miles.

Let me paint the scenario:

Last Sunday Jennifer and I checked out of our hotel after a screening in Sacramento the previous night.  It had been a late night – a post screening dinner with the movie hosts, and Jennifer and I had uncharacteristically slept in a bit that following morning.

That particular day we had to drive to Mount Shasta, which was a 200+ mile drive. We were going to stay overnight with our good friends Michael and Raphaelle Tamura, who live there.

Usually when I have a long drive ahead of me I like to get a coffee on the road after we’ve laid down a few miles.

That morning my intuition told me that I should have a coffee straight away – before I left Sacramento, even though my logic said it would be better to get on the road fast, beat the traffic, and find a Starbucks somewhere down the highway.

I listened to my intuition –
– and as it so happened, there was a Starbucks right around the corner.

I ordered two coffees and a bagel which Jennifer and I would share. The bill came to $11:34.

Normally when I have a bill this small I pay by cash – but that morning strangely my intuition told me to pay by card.

I listened to my intuition –
– pulled out my wallet, and discovered that my credit card was missing.
This was the card that I would need for the next 7 weeks of my journey.

I checked all the pockets of my trousers, my shirt, and finding nothing I went back out to the car and checked the pockets of the jacket that I’d been wearing the previous day.

Nothing.

I tracked back to the last time I had used the card, and remembered that it was the previous night at dinner, at a restaurant that was only five minutes away. I immediately called them and yes, they had the card.

What a relief.

But here’s the thing – had I not listened to my intuition when it hit twice – first telling me I should have coffee straight away, and then telling me I should pay by card and not cash, it’s quite conceivable I could have driven 200mls to Mount Shasta before discovering my card was missing. Then I would have had to drive 200mls back to the restaurant and 200mls back to Mount Shasta. An additional round trip of 400mls.

The restaurant wouldn’t have posted it forward without an in-person ID check.

Intuition works in small subtle ways. I’ve learned now to follow and trust it, even when it’s concerning seemingly trivial things, like paying with a card and not cash.

I’m attuned to it now – and I see it for what it is. Other people might say that I was just really lucky – and dismiss it. But as Lee Carroll, who channels Kryon, says in my movie:

“There’s no luck about it. I’m working on my intuition!”

Made with Repix (http://repix.it)

Every now and then the Universe tests you.

Tests your character,
Tests your beliefs,
Tests your standing as a spiritual being.

I like to think I’m now a spiritual being. On a spiritual path.
And yesterday I was tested, and I failed.

I failed miserably.

I was flying back from screenings in Queensland, and I was at Brisbane airport. I’d checked in, and I was going through security.

Now, I travel a lot, as most of you know. And I’ve been through security at airports all over the world. I know the drill, I know these security screeners have an important job to do, and I am always courteous, compliant, and respectful.

Except for yesterday.

I had hand luggage. That’s all. For a three day trip to Queensland, I had everything in my carry-on, including my toiletry bag. My toiletry bag included my shaving kit, which included a small aerosol can of shaving cream.

I buy these small cans specifically for travelling, because they meet the security regulations for flights. All you have to do, when you go through security, is take the aerosol can out of your carry-on and put it in a tray. Which I dutifully did.

I went through the personal scanner thingy, then I was told by a security guard that my aerosol can couldn’t be allowed on the flight.

I asked why.

Tha guard didn’t give me a reason.
They don’t have to.

I told him that I had come from Sydney to Brisbane a couple of days earlier and that very same can had passed the presumably stringent security checks of Sydney airport. Why had it failed here in Brisbane?

Now, before I proceed any further with this tragic story, you have to understand, I have a particular personality failing.

I hate authority.
I hate mindless authority.
Authority that mindlessly follows rules, irrespective of common sense.

The security guard didn’t answer me – he didn’t have to – but he took the suspect can of shaving cream over to his supervisor. The supervisor gingerly picked up the can, examined it carefully as though it were something found on the street outside the American Embassy in Afghanistan.

The supervisor gave an imperceptible nod to the security guard, which could have been interpreted two ways – either it was a nod of approval that the miscreant can had passed this higher level of inspection and was, after all, safe to travel; or it could have been a nod of approval to the security guard that, thankfully, because of his keen eye and his rigorous attention to detail, he was to be commended for preventing a potential mid air disaster, with massive loss of life.

The security guard came over to me and said: My supervisor says this can can’t be allowed on the flight. 

Right.

Well, we all know that the supervisor, in a situation like this, has ultimate authority. A passenger cannot question the decision of a supervisor. Not unless that said passenger wants to end up catching a train to Sydney.

Needless to say, this dictum from a Higher Authority did nothing to appease me.
It only inflamed me.

I was now dealing with not only one moron, but two morons – one slightly more highly paid than the other.

See? You can already tell that I was failing the test the Universe had set for me.

Once again I asked why.

I pointed out, trying to stay calm and amiable and even pleasant, that I had traveled with the can from Sydney to Brisbane only two days earlier, and the can hadn’t changed in that short period of time. In fact, I pointed out sagely, I had shaved twice and so presumably it was less dangerous than two days prior. The only thing that’s changed, apart from the contents of the can, I said, was you. A  security guard at Sydney airport had declared the can fit and able to travel, and now you and your supervisor say it can’t. (They close ranks, you know, in situations like this, particularly in Brisbane). How come?

The security guard pointed to the can, to the sealing around the can’s midriff, and said with a Gotcha smirk: It’s corroded. It’s dangerous. 

If I was a dog at that moment I would have snarled.
If I was a cat I would have hissed.
If I was a cow I would have dumped a big smoking pat on his foot.

I was none of those. I was an aggrieved passenger trying to prevent separation from something that had suddenly and needlessly become quite precious to me. It might have been a lethal can of death and destruction to that guard, but to me it had become a point of honour, to  point out the inconsistency and idiocy of the situation.

Yes, ego had entered the equation.
And yes, another test failed.

Regardless, I pointed out that this alleged corrosion hadn’t just appeared in two days. It was there when it passed through security at Sydney airport. This was my Gotcha moment that went straight through to the keeper.

Now, you can tell by this lengthy exchange that I had arrived early for my flight and I had oodles of time to debate.

Debate?
No, argue.
Argue?
No, challenge.

The security guard pulled out his trump card. I’ve checked with my supervisor and that’s what he said.

Now, you have to understand, these cans of shaving cream cost $3.50. And that particular one was nearly empty. It’s not like I was arguing, nay, challenging, over the potential loss of something valuable.

What I saw as valuable was the principle. That moron #1 and slightly-more-highly-paid moron #2 were limiting my freedom. My freedom to be able to take my can of shaving cream, that I had by this stage bonded with – we’d become quite close – on a journey home.

But hey, I know when I can win a fight and I know when to walk away.

I walked away.

And as I walked away, I thought: Bill, you’ve just failed the test. You might think you’ve become a Highly Evolved Spiritual Being, but every now and then, you get tested to see how highly evolved you really are.

Obviously I’m still at the salamander stage.

And that’s why I have titled this, I failed the test #1. Because I’m sure there will be other tests too, which I’m sure to fail. And when I do, you’ll be the first to read about it here!

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Jennifer and I have spent the last three days in Melbourne screening my film PGS – three nights in a row in fact. Two of those screenings were sell-outs.

The first was at the beautiful Rivoli Cinema in East Hawthorne, organised by our dear Camino friends Peter & Julie Landers. At that screening there were a bunch of nuns. (I’m not exactly sure what the correct collective noun is for a group of nuns – a flock of sheep, a pod of dolphins, a gaggle of geese etc. So I’ll call them a bunch of nuns…)

Anyway, these delightful ladies came to the screening, and I was curious to see how they would react because the church doesn’t readily embrace the notion of intuition.

However there are religious folk in the film – Caroline Myss being the most prominent (she’s renown as a Catholic mystic and scholar) – and they do put their point of view in a religious context. But then there are also a couple of others who say very directly that you don’t need to believe in God to believe in intuition.

The day after the screening, Julie Landers, who helped organise the screening, forwarded me an email from one of the nuns. The Sister has given me permission to post it publicly here. She vey much wants the message of the film to get out into the wider community.

Oh, and to add: I did a Q&A after the screening and the first question came from a gentleman who was a self avowed sceptic and he was quite hostile. He was very critical of the film, and critical of me too.

Anyway, here is the Sister’s wonderful email, posted with her permission:

Dear Julie,

It is the morning after the movie screening, “ PGS Intuition” and I am still reflecting upon it.  When we left the Rivoli last night Axxxx, Lxxxx and I chatted about it on the drive home and continued doing so over our late dinner.   

I saw the movie as an exploration into the reality and nature of that  “inner voice” that has the power to command and to save, if heeded.  Bill Bennett had experienced an event which shook him to the core of his being and sent him on an exploration seeking for explanations, answers.  He assembled a very impressive line-up of experts from various disciplines, to help him understand.

I loved the lady in the dark pink blouse and green beads (Caroline Myss) and the handsome young Prince of Buthan!! 

In a way, Bill was attempting the seemingly impossible in trying to define the mysterious.  But he was doing what he felt impelled to do – explore meaning.  I felt that the first questioner, who referred to himself as a sceptic, was unduly harsh in his criticism, even to the point of later counting the number of times Bill used “I think”. 

Even though the movie itself was very definite in its conclusions, Bill himself in the Q&A session revealed himself to be quite tentative, an earnest explorer still seeking for meaning.  I don’t doubt that he will continue to do so to the end of his days, as we all do.  

It seems to me that one can only bow before Mystery and then do what needs to be done, what is at hand.  The pink-blouse lady summed up the best response for me “Make a good film.”   And Bill did just that – it was a well crafted, thought –provoking movie, out of which “the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed”. 

Thank you, dear Julie, for inviting us to attend Bill’s movie.  Would you please thank Bill himself for daring to attempt to express the inexpressible in the medium which is most familiar to him – film?  And tell him that I will be thinking about it for a long time.

As I’ve said here before, in amongst everything else I’m currently doing, I’m writing the book of the film, PGS – Intuition is your Personal Guidance System.

Those of you who have seen the film know that I go through the five steps of how to tap into your intuition, and one of those steps is that you have to ask.

I started writing at 5am, and by about 9am I’d written about 1200 words, and figured I’d done enough. I began to get on with the rest of my day. This morning I had a series of Skype calls to the US, and one was with a lady who wants to set up a few screenings around where she lives.

We chatted for a good while and as we were finishing up the call, she said she wanted to tell me about an experience that she’d had just recently with her eleven year old son, named Howie. Howie had been to a screening of PGS with her mom, and had been captivated by some of the ideas the movie had thrown up.

Later that night at home Howie asked his mother whether he could get a sign from God to show him that the stuff in the film was real.

His mother said: Sure, all you have to do is ask.

She suggested that he should go inside himself, find a quiet place there, and ask; then find a book and flick through and randomly settle on a page, on a section of a page, and read it and see if it tells him anything of significance. See if it could be interpreted as a sign.

So Howie did just that. He picked up a comic book that he’d been reading, sat down and began to flick through the pages.

He closed his eyes, found a still place inside himself, asked, then stopped at a page and opened his eyes. What he saw, there in the comic book, was a picture of a young man wearing headphones talking to God.

Howie and his mom were gobsmacked.

Howie laughed, and asked his mother whether he should do it again. She told him he should ask. So Howie went inside himself again, asked, and was told that it wasn’t necessary. Once was enough.

So the mother is telling me this story on Skype, and then she calls out and Howie comes from another room and stands beside her and tells me the story again, just as his mother had done. This is an eleven year old boy.

I was gobsmacked too – not because of what happened, but because of the timing –

The mother had chosen to tell me this story just as I had finished writing the section on ASK. She didn’t know I’d been writing – she had no clue – this was the first time we’d ever chatted.

But the way I see it, Spirit felt that I needed to hear this story – a story about asking – so that I could put it into the book, just as I’m writing the section on ASK.

Coincidence, you might say?
Remember what James Van Praagh says about coincidence –

Coincidence is just God’s way of remaining anonymous.