Yesterday was again flat out.

Jennifer and I were musing at the end of the day that here we are in one of the most magnificent cities in the world – Florence – and we’ve had no time for sightseeing. No popping into the Uffizi for a squiz at some Botticelli – we haven’t even had a chance to go into the Duomo.

We’re here to work – to film – and yesterday gave us another couple of little gems.

First we went to Florence’s oldest bookstore – only 50 meters from the Duomo in fact, and a store that’s been in existence for centuries. Our purpose there was to film a sequence of me researching ancient texts – and the bookstore certainly provided some wonderful visual opportunities.

It was a store that dealt specifically in antiquated books – books hundreds of years old. And it had shelf upon musty shelf of books with cracked leather covers and parchment paper that took you back to medieval and ancient times.

While shooting the sequence I got to talking to the owner of the store – the store has been in his family for six generations – and he began to talk about intuition in wonderfully literate terms.

He talked about “signs,” what he called “hidden” signs that were all around you, should you be prepared to look for them. And even though we were already running late for the next interview, I decided to get his views on camera.

And he was wonderful.

Articulate, sensitive, and wise – he spoke with eloquence about intuition manifesting as signs, which because we live in confusion most of our lives, we fail to see them.

We then quickly packed up and walked about a kilometre across to another piazza, where we met an esteemed theologian – a Emeritus Professor of Theology – who was a wonderfully colourful character.

Tall, imposing, dressed in a black suit with a white unbuttoned shirt; long scraggly white hair, white beard, and academic spectacles, he looked exactly like a Florentine theologian should look.

His interview again was fascinating – and what was interesting about it is that in many ways it connected with what some of the Hindu spiritualists had said in India. The professor spoke about the Holy Spirit, but not in rigid Christian terms, rather in a more open way about the cosmos – his word – and consciousness.

I’ve been expecting the Italian interviews to be more hard-line – more obviously Christian – but it’s proving not to be the case. There seems to be a more “modern” sensibility coming through.

However we go to Rome on Monday, and I’m interviewing someone from Opus Dei, so we’ll see what he has to say!

Just a note: remember that I made the decision to do this film after waking up from a dream at 4:44am? At the time I regarded that as a very real sign that I had to get on with it.  And consequently I booked my flight to India to depart on the 4th of September.

Well, this might sound crazy but it seems that on this trip – both in India and now in Italy – we’re constantly being given rooms with the number 4 in it – such as Room 414.

Coincidence, right?

The reason I’ve come to Italy is to film the religious perspective on intuition. And here in Italy of course, that means the Christian perspective.

My film will look at intuition from a religious, a spiritual, and a scientific viewpoint. And the film will most probably come to the conclusion that they’re all saying the same thing, but using language that is particular to their beliefs and understandings.

The scientific viewpoint on intuition will largely be shot in the US, as will the spiritual – although I’ve already got some wonderful spiritual material from India.

Yesterday I did a very moving interview with a monk from the Capuchin Order of St. Francis. (It’s interesting how St. Francis of Assisi keeps popping up…).

He was based in a small church attached to a large hospital on the outskirts of Florence. The hospital was established in the 13th century, but the church was built during Mussolini’s Fascist era, in the 1930s. It was wonderfully sparse and angular.

The monk wanted me to call him by his first name – Marcos. No respectful title was necessary. He was dressed in simple robes, with the traditional monk’s cord around his waist. He was quiet and humble and utterly self effacing and honest – yet when he spoke on camera he became very impassioned, just like the professor I interviewed yesterday.

For those of you unfamiliar with the basis of this film I’m doing, it’s essentially this:

Many years ago, while I was making a movie in New Orleans, a “voice” saved my life. I was driving to the airport very early one morning, I was running late, and this voice told me to slow down as I was approaching an intersection.

I did slow down, because the voice was insistent, and so damn weird. And as I entered the intersection a massive truck ran a red light on a cross street, and missed me by inches. If I hadn’t listened to that voice and slowed down, I would have been killed.

Ever since, I’ve been fascinated to know three things:

• What was that voice?
• Where did it come from?
• Why did it save my life?

That’s essentially what the film is about – but it’s more than that too; it will ultimately show how you can trust your intuition, and how you can access it readily. Here’s a link to explain the film, and my concept of PGS – intuition as your Personal Guidance System…

PGS sizzle reel – 

Marcos yesterday said the “voice” was my Guardian Angel, which in many ways is not dissimilar to those in India who spoke about it being my astral body, my karmic imprint, or my Higher Self. The monk then went on to explain how you can communicate with your Guardian Angel… and how your Guardian Angel tries to guide and protect you through life.

It was fascinating stuff, and it will make an important contribution to the film.

Today I’m filming in the oldest bookstore in Florence – a sequence of me researching ancient texts – then after that I have an interview with a highly regarded theologian, who is also an authority on quantum physics and Particle Theory. That should be interesting.

Next week, it’s down to Rome. It looks like we might have breached the impenetrable walls of the Vatican!

Padre Marcos – Franciscan Monk, Capuchin Order @bill bennett

Professor Giuseppe Cognetti teaches Philosophy at the University of Siena, which is one of the oldest and most respected universities in Italy, dating back to the thirteenth century.

Professor Cognetti is a fascinating man. Not only is he a world renown scholar, he’s also regarded in academic circles as being an expert on eastern esoterica and mysticism.

He’s an adviser to the International Association for the Study of Religious Phenomena, plus he teaches yoga and Taiji Quan.

He’s also published several books with such titles as:

• The size of the Heart
• The Lost Ark
• Beyond Nihilism
• Is peace an utopia?
• The Dark Age

Today he did a wonderful interview with me for the film.

He spoke passionately and volubly – all in Italian! – referencing Jungian psychology, the Collective Unconscious, contemporary scientific thought in physics, and ancient philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle – all to explain the phenomenon of intuition.

His son Paolo translated wonderfully, and his wife Mariaester watched on and occasionally chipped in. Giuseppe explained to us how his intuition led him to the young lady who would later become his wife. And he stressed that intuition should be tempered with logic.

We did the interview at his home in the Tuscan hills behind Florence. In the far background the huge dome of the Duomo gleamed in the late afternoon sun.

The professor is the first of quite a few interviews which I’ll be doing over the next several days in and around Florence, and next week in Rome. Our researcher / production assistant Elena is doing a terrific job at securing these interviews.

As well, she’s found a great location in the heart of the historic centre of Florence to shoot a sequence of me researching medieval texts on intuition.

Finally this Italian part of the film is coming together!

While waiting for the Vatican to make up it’s collective mind on the worthiness of speaking to me about intuition, I’ve been busy doing other things: like lining up interviews outside of the Holy See.

And with Elena and Piotr’s help, it looks like this coming week will be full on, with some very interesting people agreeing to be involved.

In the meantime I thought I might post some pics that I’ve taken these last several days –

My beloved footy team, the Sydney Swans, today lost the Grand Finals – the Super Bowl of Aussie Rules football.

They not only lost – they got smashed.

It was so bad that in the last quarter I started doing emails. Then I had a shower. Then I took the dog for a walk around the block, even though I don’t have a dog.

Nor do I have a block.

I simply couldn’t watch.

I love my team. Whether they win or lose. That’s probably the definition of a fan. For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. Till death do us part.

Today they died.

My good friends Peter Landers and Julie (the famed Landers Express) are ardent Hawthorn supporters. The Hawks. They’re the team that won. They’re the team that embarrassed us. They’re the team that showed us how to play Grand Final footy.

Hard.

Peter and Julie wear orange and brown underwear, I swear. They’re the Hawk’s colours. This morning they probably ate bird food for breakfast. They love their Hawks just like I love my Swans.

And I’m delighted for them that their team won. Because they played better footy, and were by far the best team out on the park today.

Was I disappointed? Was I shattered?

No, not really. I was disappointed it wasn’t more of a contest. I’d have enjoyed a closer match. But it wasn’t to be. This generation of Hawthorn players, with their coach, are heading into legendary territory. Today was a back-to-back flag win. That happens rarely.

Fact is, my team gave me so much pleasure this season. The characters, the ups and downs, the grace and doggedness under pressure at times. I watch sport because of the Shakespearean nature of it.

Like politics.

It’s all about the people, the personalities, the ambitions, the failings, the strength of will, the grit. As with anything, the more you invest in a team, the more you get out of it.

I’ve got a lot out of the Swannies over the years.

At this point in my life, I’m trying to divest myself of outcomes. The enjoyment comes from watching the game, not from winning or losing.

Detachment.

It’s not taking the fun and enjoyment out of the game – on the contrary, when your team loses, why should you be upset? You should be happy for the fans of the other team.

Similarly when your team wins, it’s ungracious to gush and carry on. Where does that get you? Success and failure come and go in sport, as in life. Often times failure is fundamental to future success. The biggest lessons are forged out of failure, or rejection.

I was watching the #goswans Twitter feeds today, and some of the comments from the Hawk supporters, and the Swans supporters too, were pretty foul. Where does that get you? It might make you feel good momentarily, but that kind of unsympathetic energy only comes back at you at some later stage.

Some people – some fans – get very angry. They get angry at their team for losing – for letting them down. And they get angry at the other team for winning. And sometimes they get angry at the referee for what they believe are bad decisions, which might have contributed to their team’s loss.

The pinnacle of this is the rioting and violence we sometimes see in Europe at football games – where the fans are often penned in like animals with wire grills around them and rows of police with tear gas weapons, to stop them attacking the fans from the other side.

Craziness.

Often these violent fans are mired in social problems at home or in the workplace. Many are unemployed, depressed, they have low self-esteem etc. And they identify so strongly with their team that when they lose, it’s a personal slight. A denigration of how they see themselves. And the anger that’s been festering at home or at work explodes viciously at the stadium.

Fact is there’s no such thing as winning or losing. Not on an esoteric level. In politics I used to get so het up about particular parties and politicians – and now I realise they’re all pretty much the same. The shading is a bit different, that’s all.

What did The Who say?
Meet the new boss… same as the old boss.
That pretty much sums it up for me.

I’m delighted for the Hawthorn supporters that their team won so convincingly. I’m happy for the Landers Express, because now Peter has something to rib me about for the next twelve months – until next year’s Grand Final when my tranquil and elegant  Swannies will turn those predatory carrion eating Hawks into a bunch of yukky colored feather dusters…

The Vatican isn’t quite as laid back as some of the ashrams in India, that’s for sure!

We’ve been trying on several fronts for months now to get a high level interview at the Vatican – but evidently it’s a very bureaucratic place, and time is not of the essence in The Holy See.

But – I am nothing but tenacious. And I’m not easily thwarted.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I met a fellow in the Parmarth ashram in Rishikesh who turned out to be an official Vatican photographer for twenty years. He’s proven to be of enormous help. He’s since connected me to a filmmaker in Rome who is also helping. His name is Piotr, and he’s trying to expedite my request for an interview.

And last night we met our Italian assistant. Her name is Elena, and she was introduced to us through Rachit (gee, even when I type it my fingers really want to type “Ratshit.” It’s all I can do to stop myself…)

Anyway Elena recently completed her masters degree in film studies at the London Film School. She’s Italian, lives outside of Florence, and she’s come on board to help us too. She speaks fluent English, and she’s delightful. Already it looks like she’s lined up some interesting interviewees outside of the Vatican.

So with Piotr and Elena and Loreto (the former Vatican photographer), we have a formidable group working on our behalf to maximise our time here.

By the way, Australian coffee is better than Italian coffee…

I want to recount to you something that happened to me this morning – something I witnessed – and it will stay with me forever.

I’m still deeply affected – and felt I had to put down my thoughts, and my stirred emotions – straight away.

Last night I couldn’t sleep – jet lag from the flight from India – and I woke up at 3am. Finally realising I wouldn’t get back to sleep, I decided to head out in the dark to film the sunrise over Assisi for the movie.

A couple of kms out of town I found a good position, so in the dark I set up the tripod and waited. The sunrise was truly spectacular. The light was magical, and transcendent. I shot a lot of footage, and took some stills.

Once the light became uninteresting, I packed up and headed back up the hill into the ancient town. I decided I’d go to the Basilica – the massive Church on the edge of the ridge – and take some shots while the town was still empty of tourists.

I got some nice shots – and as I walked back to the hotel I noticed someone coming slowly up the hill. At first from a distance I thought it was a “little person,” because he was quite small.

But as I got closer I realised it was a man making his way up the hill on his knees, heading to the Basilica.

He was wearing rags stitched together – it looked like hessian cloth from flour or wheat sacks – and he had a cord around his waist. His legs were thin, his feet dirty and thick with callous. I glanced at his face – he had a beard, and his eyes were lowered to the ground.

He looked like Jesus.

His moved slowly – and I came around behind him and followed him up the hill. I put my camera onto silent mode so that the sound of the shutter didn’t disturb him. I was very conscious that I was witnessing something quite profound, and I didn’t want to intrude.

Immediately a whole bunch of questions hit me –

• Where had he come from?
• How far had he come?
• What was his story?
• What had triggered the need for him to do this?
• Was he mentally ill?

It was a dreadful thing to ask myself – was he mentally ill? – because I guess I couldn’t fathom the extreme faith of his actions. And it seemed so anachronistic for him to be doing this. Someone in their right mind simply doesn’t do that kind of thing in this day and age.

And yet I’d just come from India where I’d seen pilgrims prostrating themselves along the ground to reach the Dalai Lama’s Temple. It’s done in other cultures, why not ours?

Irrespective, I kept photographing him – following him as he got closer to the Basilica.

A car passed and honked it’s horn at him because he was in the middle of the road. I felt his violation. It was like a spear in his side. He took no notice. He kept moving inexorably up the hill to the ancient church.

I didn’t want to get in front of him and photograph his face. That too I felt would be a violation. I didn’t want to intrude. I just wanted to observe, and try to capture the essence of the man’s actions, and his faith.

Now several hours later, as I look back on the images I took, I’m still deeply moved. And still the questions remain, and of course they will always be unanswered.

We who walk the Camino call ourselves pilgrims. I don’t really feel I can call myself that anymore, not after witnessing what I witnessed this morning.

It’s 4am, I’m in Assisi, and I’m jet lagged. Normally when I’m bored like this I go onto Amazon and see how many books I’ve sold.

That usually sends me to sleep really fast.

But I noticed that someone has posted up a new review on Amazon, and it knocked me sideways.

As ardent readers of this blog would know, I am a deeply humble self effacing person – a true pilgrim – and i never indulge in tacky and degrading self promotion.

But I’ll make this one exception.

Here are some shots I quite like which haven’t yet gone up on this blog.

Except for one – the last shot – which is my favourite so far. I think it captures the energy and tone of Bombay beautifully.

But you may not agree. You might think the shot is inept, or stupid, or you just don’t get it. That’s the wonderful thing about photography – it’s a completely subjective and interpretive medium… no-one is right or wrong.

Irrespective, I hope you enjoy these pics –

Julian is now two thirds of the way through his mammoth pilgrimage. It’s been very tough for him at times – what with theft, sunstroke, recurring illness, and the disappointment he’s faced several times with the changing nature of The Way.

You may not always agree with Julian, but I personally feel privileged to be able to post his observations on this blog – because he walked his first Camino before most of us had even heard of it. He really is the true pilgrim, in action and in spirit.

Here is his latest guest post:

Dawn and Dusk

This is a very different Camino, even though it’s also more of the same.

I thought that this would be my toughest Pilgrimage for my knees, but it’s turning out to be my toughest Pilgrimage for some completely different reasons. My knees have been behaving quite civilly, and I’ve been not using my bracers for four weeks and not been taking my painkillers for three, even though my speed remains slow, and my KM/day low.

An unexpected belly illness has been eating into both my body and my budget for several weeks, though I think it’s now getting under control, but some un-pilgrim has also stolen my telephone, and the French “social” “services” seem to have decided to leave me close to penniless for my second half of theWay.

The pennilessness has now happened Every Single Pilgrimage, no matter what I try and do to prevent it, though this is the first time I’ve needed to start begging. The loss of the ‘phone is a litle different, because even though it makes my contact with the world beyond the Camino much harder, it is also bringing me back closer into what the Camino actually should be — similar to the penniless, really.

The un-pilgrims are harder to deal with — not those in the process of learning, though talking with them remains difficult until they get their heads ’round the Camino a bit more ; but the massive numbers of Tourigrinos and, well, … just hikers who have not even the faintest idea of how to even commence a Pilgrimage and yet do all that they can to monopolise all of the facilities for their own very un-spiritual needs.

Ten years ago, the 5AM crowd were easy to locate and avoid ; they travelled in little groups, and one could simply move on to the next pueblo. Less said about the 4AM people, the better.

In 2014, I am typically the ONLY person remaining in the Refugio when dawn breaks, and I am immensely saddened by this crowd of hikers who never let themselves be woken by the natural Grace and Beauty of the pre-Dawn Light upon their eyelids, nor experience the natural rest of a Dusk ’til Dawn sleep.

They hike, and do not seek.