With the release of my film PGS – Intuition is my Personal Guidance System, I’ve been doing Q&As after the theatrical screenings, in Australia and throughout the US.

At first I found this completely terrifying, having to stand up in front of a crowd of strangers and talk about stuff that’s intrinsically very personal, but gradually I’ve been getting better at it, knowing that it’s an essential part of getting PGS out to the world.

The questions are always fascinating – and one question I get asked sometimes is this: What has been the most bizarre moment you experienced in the making of your film. 

There have been quite a few bizarre moments, let me tell you! But perhaps none more so than when I met my Guardian Angel in a coffee shop in Dallas Texas.

I don’t often tell this story at Q&As, because in the telling it can diminish what I see as the sacred nature of the encounter – because I do believe that what happened was real – but I told a truncated version last night after a screening in Sorrento, Victoria, Australia – and so I thought I would re-publish the two blogs that I posted at the time – December 2014 – which detailed the two interactions I had with the woman who told me she was, indeed, my Guardian Angel.

First though, a bit of background: I started filming PGS in September 2014, and so when this happened, it was early into the three year shoot. I was yet to form my opinions about intuition specifically, and my subsequent spiritual beliefs more generally.

Jennifer and I had gone to Dallas Texas because several months earlier, a Vedic Astrologer in Bombay had told me, after doing my charts, that the best place for me to expose myself to my “most beneficial cosmic rays” was Dallas, between November and December.

The astrologer said that wonderful things would happen if we went to Dallas during that period of my beneficial cosmic rays, and so of course we went.

I met this woman at a coffee shop – with me was Rachit San Barak, our camera assistant. On the first meeting Jennifer wasn’t with us – she was the second time we met her.

The meetings rocked the socks off me. I still think about it. The thing about the encounters that I still ask myself is: Why would she say what she said? She didn’t want anything from me. And she emanated such a powerful beatific energy. I can’t describe it any other way.

Anyway, here are the two blogs I posted at the time. Make up your own mind –

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Original link: https://pgstheway.com/2014/12/03/dallas-day-10-pt2/

My life is becoming more surreal.

This morning I met an angel.

At least, that’s what she said she was.

And I’m in such a trippy head space at the moment, part of me believes her.

Here’s what happened:

I went with Rachit to a small corner coffee shop for breakfast. Jennifer didn’t come, she was feeling poorly, so she stayed behind.

I was sitting at a large communal table when a woman came up. She was – I’m guessing – maybe 40’s. She had on baggy blue jeans, a nondescript bulky jacket and a woollen scarf wrapped around her head, so that just her face was visible.

She could have been a homeless person. She could have been an heiress. There was nothing to indicate either way.

Her clothing was also asexual. There was nothing feminine about it, and yet she was a very feminine person.

She had a beatific face. It was radiant. No make up. But gentle eyes, a smiling mouth, and clear skin. When she looked at you her gaze was unflinching and searching. It was an honest face. And a mirthful face.

If an angel could take human form, then you could believe she was an angel.

There were several newspapers on the table in front of me, and she asked if she could take one. I said fine – and she rummaged through, telling me that it was hard to find good news to read. Everything in the newspapers was full of death and darkness, she said.

I told her that there was good news too if you want to find it.

She rummaged some more, and she began telling me about a fight that had broken out on Black Friday, the big shopping day in the US after Thanksgiving. She told me how crazy it was, that a woman had got injured fighting over a large screen TV.

I told her what I’ve posted on this blog, that shopping rage comes from fear.

She agreed.

Our chat then went something like this:

She – You from Dallas?
Me – No, I’m from Australia.
She – Oh. What are you doing here?
Me – I’m here to change the world.
She laughing – Really? That’s funny. So am I.
Me – You are? And how are you going to do that?
She – I can’t tell you.
Me, offering my hand – I’m Bill.
She, shaking hands. A very firm grip, like a man’s – I’m Madeline.
Me – What do you do?
She – You won’t believe me if I tell you.
Me – I’ll believe you.
She – I’m an angel.
Me – Are you mad?
She, laughing – No. And I’m not on drugs. (then) Are you mad?
Me, laughing – Yes, A little.
She, laughing – No, you’re not mad. I believe you’re here to change the world. (then) You have a big heart. (turning to Rachit) You have a big heart too.
Me – Yes, he does.
She – My real name is Mary Magdeline.
Me – Are you a Christian?
She – No. I’m all religions.
Me, turning to Rachit – I wish I’d brought the camera. We really should be filming this.
She – I wouldn’t have let you.
Me, writing down the PGS blog address on a scrap of newspaper, handing it to her – Here. Read this. It will explain why I’m here. (Then, to make it clear this was not a flirtatious encounter) – My wife is in the hotel next door. She isn’t feeling well.
She – Oh. I can heal spiritually. I can heal by touch. Inside and out.
Me – Thanks. But my wife just needs to rest. (then) How can I contact you? I might want to film with you.
She – You can’t. (then) Do you have a business card?
I gave her my business card.
She – I will call you.
Me, getting up to go – Okay, nice meeting you.
She – This was no accident.
Me – I don’t believe in accidents.
She – You know we were meant to meet here.
Me – Yes. It was in my destiny.

And then Rachit and I left.

I don’t know what compelled me to say: It was in my destiny. it just came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

I have to say, I was really shaken up by the whole encounter. It was like a dream. Like it was on another plane of existence. You just don’t have conversations like this with a stranger in a coffee shop.

Walking back to the hotel, I asked Rachit if he believed she was an angel. He just smiled, and nodded his head. Yes, he said, I believe it.

I went back to my room and told Jennifer. She listened and she too nodded, as though it all made complete sense to her.

To me though, it was just plain weird…

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2nd Post – Original link – https://pgstheway.com/2014/12/08/dallas-day-15-pt2/
(five days later)

I met her again today.

My angel. She told me she was my Guardian Angel.

And that she loved me.

I introduced her to my wife, Jennifer.

Jennifer thought she was an angel.

Someone with an expanded consciousness, she said.

Later, I went and talked to her again – Madeline.

Mary Magdeline, she reminded me, like in the Bible.

It went something like this:

Me – How will you change the world?
She – I can’t tell you.
Me – When is this going to happen?
She – You will know.
Me – How will I know?
She – Because you will be with me, by my side.
Me – I will?
She – Yes, we have been together before. I have been a part of your life, in the past.
Me – When?
She – You don’t believe me?
Me – Yes, I believe you.
She – And I will be with you later, too. When you need me. I’m your Guardian Angel.
Me – Are you mine exclusively or do I have to share you with other people?
She, laughing – I’m everyone’s. There is only one Guardian Angel.
Then she cupped my face in her hand, looked at me with radiant love, and said: I love you Bill.

I went back to my table and told Jennifer that my Guardian Angel had just told me she loved me. Jennifer nodded, and said: Good. So she should…

Seriously, this just happened.

SaveSave

SaveSave

Two weeks today we launch a crowdsource funding campaign.

It’s to raise funds to help us get PGS the Movie out to the world!

The campaign will be on Indiegogo – and we’ll be seeking funds to create foreign language versions, DVD premium extras, such as extended interviews and “chapters” we didn’t include – and it will also go towards marketing the film world wide.

Here is a sneak preview of the video we’ve created for the campaign-

We want to make the world more intuitive, and we’re going to need your help!

Every now and then the Universe smacks me on the wrist for being stupid.

And as I become more spiritually aware, those smacks become swifter, and they sting more.

I got a smack yesterday, traveling back from Winton, in central Queensland, where I attended the Vision Splendid Outback Film Festival – where PGS played.

What happened was this: When I went to check in at Longreach airport, the Qantas check-in lady insisted she weigh my carry-on. Carry-on is meant to be only 7kgs – mine weighed 14kg.

I mean, who has carry-on weighing only 7kg?
Sales reps selling Kleenex?

I had my laptop and iPad and Kindle and all my chargers and cables and clothes and toiletries for four days away. It was a wonder it was only 14kg.

Anyway, this airline lady insisted I couldn’t take my carry-on onto the plane. She wanted to check it through to Sydney. I didn’t like that idea. But she was adamant. So I took out my laptop, my iPad, and my Kindle, and grumbling, I boarded the plane.

I wasn’t happy.
I never check through my carry-on.
My carry-on has all those little things I like to have with me.
Like my chargers and cables and my little Ganesha.
And my dental floss.

On the flight I realised that I hadn’t taken out my car keys.
My car keys were in my carry-on.

I started to panic. What if my bag didn’t arrive in Sydney. Then I couldn’t drive home. And with my car keys were the house keys, and keys to my post boxes… and my Aldi token so that I can get trolleys when I do my shopping.

But my car keys were the big deal.

And bags go missing all the time. I’ve traveled regularly for over 40years, and I’ve never lost a bag in the thousands of flights I’ve taken, but I’ve heard that it happens. And as my flight progressed I became convinced  that on this occasion, it would happen to me.

The airline would lose my bag.

I had two hours turn around between flights. And the check-in lady had adorned my bag with a very prominent transfer tag – but even so, baggage handlers are notoriously blind to these things, and with two hours between flights there was plenty of time for it to get lost.

On the flight from Brisbane to Sydney I began to curse that fastidious check-in lady. My laptop had run out of power because I didn’t have my charger. My phone had got down to 48% battery and I didn’t have a cable to charge it in the plane’s USB.

48% battery was enough to see me through to home, but if I couldn’t get home because I couldn’t drive my car because I didn’t have my keys because the airline lost my bag because the check-in lady hadn’t let me take my carry-on onto the flight, well then I would have no battery left on my phone and I’d be really stuffed.

The plane landed and I walked with a sense of dread to baggage claim. Because I’d become convinced that my bag was lost. That it wouldn’t be on the baggage carousel. Even though it had one of those fancy Qantas e-tags. Even though it had that gaudy transfer tag. Even though in my pocket I had the baggage claim ticket.

I waited at the carousel and I watched everyone pick up their bags. I watched closely in case someone mistakenly picked up mine. My bag was a nondescript black Samsonite. These things can happen. In the thousands of flights that I’ve taken, and the thousands of times I’ve waited at baggage carousels, it’s never happened to me, that someone has mistakenly taken my luggage, but I’ve heard that it has happened to others.

The bags stopped coming. Everyone picked up their bags and suitcases. There was no sign of mine. And then that moment of absolute dread happened – that moment that sickens travellers such as myself. The carousel stops, and still you don’t have your bag.

I didn’t have my bag.

Now, being a Highly Evolved Spiritual Being, which is what I humbly consider myself to be, I didn’t at that moment curse the check-in lady. Formerly, before I became a HESB, I would have – but yesterday I didn’t. And I marked the moment as yet another indication that I had indeed become a HESB.

I calmly walked down to lost baggage and began to fill in a report. Graciously. I didn’t rant. I didn’t rave. I did show signs of distress, admittedly, but that was to be expected, given the circumstances.

And then a lady poked her head out of the lost baggage office. Is your name Bennett? she asked me. I said yes. Well your bag is on carousel 4, she said. It got put onto the wrong carousel by mistake. Sorry. 

I walked back to carousel 4, and there was my bag.

So what happened? Why did everyone else on that flight get their bag as they should have, but not me?

Because the Universe was giving me a slap on the wrist.
Because I had embraced fear.
Fear of loss.

What happened was the Universe said Okay Bill, if you want to drop down into fear, we’ll give you what you want. You want your bag to get lost? We’ll lose your bag. We’ll give you what you want. 

But the Universe isn’t mean and nasty. It had made its point – then it gave me my bag.

As I trundled it back to the car in the parking garage, I told this theory to Jennifer. Nah, she said. I waited at that carousel and I put out to the Universe that the bag wasn’t lost, that everything was perfect, and it would turn up. And that’s what happened, she said.

I got my slap on the wrist –
from the Universe,
and from Jennifer….

I still have some way to go to become a fully realised HESB.

I

There’s PGStheWay – this blog.

And PGStheMovie – my film on intuition.

Soon there’ll be PGStheBook!

PGStheBook is a book that will be coming out soon, to be published by Arcadia Press. The book  expands on what’s in the movie. There was so much I learned and discovered during the research and making of the movie, but I didn’t have the screen time to include it all. The book addresses that.

It includes a lot of the wonderful interview grabs from the film, but it goes further too. For instance, it details what I believe are the three broad categories of intuition:

• Survival Intuition
• Cognitive Intuition
• Mystical Intuition

The extract that I’m presenting now though is a section on First Thought, Best Thought – it’s part of a chapter on how I live an intuitive life. Your first thought is your intuitive thought – and it’s your best thought. Here’s the extract:

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I LIVE BY: FIRST THOUGHT, BEST THOUGHT

It’s become second nature to me now. I don’t even think about how I think anymore. I’ve now got to the point of complete trust in my first thought. I know that it’s my intuitive thought, even though it might be wild and crazy and so far out of left field that it’s out of the ballpark altogether, somewhere in the next galaxy.

I know that if I don’t follow that first thought, if I revert to my subsequent thought or thoughts, then I’ve lost a great opportunity for growth, or expansion, and I’ve given in to the safe option, which keeps me contained in what I know. In the archives.

My first thought is the one that’s bolted straight out of the gates, that’s leaped and bounded over logic and intellect, it’s raced past my storehouse of experience and flipped the bird at my ego as it’s hurtled by, and it’s arrived front and center in the forefront of my mind without having raised a sweat, brimming with creativity and innovation and originality to go – tah-dah – to give me the best thought for my highest good.

The second thought is the laggard. It lumbers out of the gates, and before it can go anywhere it first has to check in with past knowledge and rifle through dusty old files of outdated protocols rigorously kept by the intellect, then it has to consult with tetchy logic, and genuflect and obsequiously defer to toady ego, and eventually it arrives in the mind, tired, exhausted, stripped of its energy and verve and lacking any semblance of originality, before it falls in a heap at my  feet for me to pick up and try to revive and reconstitute into something that’s in any way exciting or meaningful.

The value of First Thought, Best Thought is that in a world that is changing so fast, what’s prized more than anything is freshness and originality of ideas and concepts and thought. This leads to extraordinary creativity, to growth, and to personal fulfilment.

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.