Braco (pronounced Brah-tzo) doesn’t call himself a healer, guru or teacher. He smokes, eats meat, and is married with a child, but refrains from alcohol. The gift he offers is silent gazing in five minute sessions before groups of paying devotees. If you don’t buy any of the wide range of Braco merchandise it’s cheap at $8.00 a gaze.
Braco stands on a podium gazing, either in real life or by remote via live stream. That is all he does. He is, they say, a conduit for the transmission of divine energy, a portal to oneness or the quantum field. His website says he has connectivity with the sun. Braco won’t say as he does not speak in public or give interviews. Legend has it he hasn’t spoken to anyone outside his inner circle since 2002 although you can hear His “loving” voice on his DVDs. Believers claim the usual stuff; wheelchair bound person walks, cancer cure leaves doctors dumbfounded, pains and lumps suddenly vanish. Of course there are no guaranteed effects at a Braco Gazing but you might burst into tears for no apparent reason, or twitch a little.
Braco’s silent gift is quasi-inherited. The story goes that he met the Serbian master gazer Ivica Prokic in his native Croatia whom bestowed upon him His gift. The name Braco, given to him by Prokic means “little brother”. His mentor died a short time afterwards, killed by a freak wave in the South African surf. After that Braco, whose previous employ had been engineer and businessman, took “the gaze” on a world tour. He’s a Sunbeam Jesus for adults and Santa for the kids under 18 who cannot be in Braco’s live or live stream gaze as the energy could overwhelm them. But they are allowed to see Braco on “His” birthday and that of His mentor. Late last month Braco brought his loving gaze to Melbourne at the Conscious Living New Earth Festival.
The festival was housed in one of the older pavilions at the Melbourne Show Grounds and comprised a few miserable stalls peddling sage bundles, feathers, cold press juicers and water purifiers. A group of psychics with names like Myrtle sat with their dog-eared tarot cards at empty tables corralled behind a partition and a handwritten sign. Many were checking their phones. Any future from these tables would surely be dark.
Most people at the festival seemed to be heading to the Braco queue; ordinary looking everyday folk, with nothing New Age about them. Some held laminated pictures of loved ones and flowers that they planned to hold up to absorb the gaze. Alongside the increasing line a cast of followers dressed in white floated about, talking about Braco and selling his expensive merchandise . This included a line of “sun jewelry” that displays his mentor’s symbol: a golden sun with 13 rays. Prices go up to $5000 for a for 14 carat gold version. One lady in white said, “a woman had a photo of her daughter and Braco touched it and she was healed. I can’t remember what was wrong with her but she was healed.” Someone else mentions shape shifting.
As the last session files out the door a lot of people head straight to the end of the queue ready for another gaze which are held on the hour. People addicted to the gaze can attend six sessions per day. Once inside the room the infomercial starts up with two shiny hosts, one male one female, taking it in turns to wax about Braco and His transformative energy.
Their power positive message is woven with sales talk. They mention interstate travel spruiking Braco’s next gigs in Sydney (May 23-25) and Perth (October 16-19). They tell the audience that they have found people are nicer to them when they wear “the jewelry”. They say His voice is so amazing; you too can hear it when you buy the DVD.
After 20 minutes a sales person says: “Stand if you are able to stand”. Music starts to play, a contemplative copyright-free track with thin synthesised piano, mournful strings and flute solo. Braco walks onto the podium backlit through a white curtain. With one foot slightly forward he begins gazing at those in the front row. He looks at each person one by one. His stare is neutral, lingering for just a moment so they know they have been seen.
His head turns slowly as he scans the people in the next rows. He moves his head from left to right like a pedestal fan on a hot day. Some lean forward as if they are falling into Braco’s eyes when their turn comes. Others shuffle their laminates they have brought with them in manila folders trying to hold as many as possible toward the sun. There are some silent tears, twitches, but it doesn’t seem like any big miracles are happening today. It’s hard to tell because when Braco is softly staring you can’t turn around and stare at others. You you have to look at Him. In any event it can take days or weeks to feel the effects of the gaze, they say. The music finishes, Braco turns, leaves the podium, and the addicts get back in the queue.
Earlier this week Braco live streams his gaze from Munich. It is said to be as powerful an experience as the real thing. That same music comes on after another sheeny sell by a lady with a German accent who talks for way too long about Him. Then Braco is there. Just simply there, close up looking straight into the camera lens. The viewer can see that Braco is breathing, sometimes swallowing and towards the end of the stare his left eye begins to wander. He’s in your lap, he’s on your phone screen, and he doesn’t need to concentrate on time because it’s over when that music stops.
Easy channelling with effortless reception and only five minutes of anyone’s time. This is the pinnacle of reductive healing as Braco has boiled down “the heal” to nothing but a look. No rhetoric, no dogma, just the ultimate projection that seems to prove that people want to be seen as they are, or think they are, with just one look. Or more if you get hooked.