Okay, you got me. I was just looking for an excuse. FYI, if you’re more than three month’s pregnant, you probably should not read any more of this because it might be too intense.
See, I told you.
I had to book over to the Millennium Harvest House in order to make his 3:00 session. I arrived and bought my ticket (cash only, natch) from a table manned by three middle-aged women. I wish I hadn’t been in such a hurry because I wanted to take in his infrastructure. He had a very large staff.
That’s what she said!
“You have to hurry! He’ll be starting soon.” I headed for the elevator and a man said, “Are you going to Braco? You better take the stairs or you’ll be late!”
And that would be a disaster of untold proportions.
I took the stairs and zipped passed a whole room of tables with Braco books and Braco DVDs and lots more middle aged women. Don’t harsh on me for repeatedly mentioning that the women were middle-aged, because I am a middle-aged woman. I was with my people!
I was ushered into a large conference room that was about half full. I tried to go down a less full row so I could get a better seat but a humorless (female) usher made me sit next to a guy with dred locks coming out of his beard. Ew.
I was all, “But I want to sit over here. It’s not like this place is going to fill in the next 15 seconds.” Silence. Fine.
At 3:00 sharp a guy with an Australian accent came out and gave a long-winded introduction about how his wife just loves Braco (which he pronounced Brahtzo). Yeah. I bet she does.
She followed him around Croatia (without her husband, of course) and returned to Hawaii to write the book she has always dreamed of.
What’s it about? I’ll give you one guess.
The guy droned on for fifteen minutes about how while he’s never really felt anything, his wife sure does. (Oh my God, it is so hard to restrain myself!) As the non-Braco minutes tick by, I’m re-calculating Bratzo’s rate per second and pondering the crowd. It’s mostly middle-aged women and a few men. I was easily the youngest person there, and that’s saying something.
It was like this crowd, only more women in big dresses. And flip flops so you can take your shoes off.
There were lots of those NIA (aerobics for divorcées, if you must know) dance pants, feathered earrings, blue hair and plenty of mu-mus. I noticed several people wearing day-pass wristbands. Jesus, do they have to listen to this guy’s intro spiel every time? Kill me now.
He wrapped it up by introducing a video about Braco. Really? A video? Now it’s 3:15 and the session ends at 3:30!
The video came on and was exactly what you would expect, lots of footage of Braco standing on balconies and beaches and rock outcroppings just … looking. And there was footage of his followers, again mostly women.
See what I’m talking about?
The video wraps up and NOW it’s time for us to behold Braco’s gift. He came up onto the stage and stood there, in all his untucked tuxedo shirt, faded jeans glory and slowly panned across the room while new age music played.
Do you remember Latka? Do you recall wondering what his deal was? Was he retar…uh…unique? Or was he childlike? Or was he just stupid? If you put Braco in stained mechanic’s overalls, you would have a dead ringer. What do you want to bet he wrestles women for fun?
My ex-husband dressed up like Andy Kaufman and wrestled women for Halloween. I have to admit, it was a genius move.
Did you check out the rack on the woman tag-teaming him at the end? Sweet Jesus!
Now this is where I tell you what it was like to be in the room.
His warm-up act encouraged us to be open to whatever we might be feeling.
Me? I was trying really hard to think about Cushie and her pinched nerve because I didn’t want my cynicism to prevent me from feeling something profound. I mean, frickin’ laser beams might shoot out of his eyes! A whole room half-full of middle aged women couldn’t be wrong, could they?
What did I feel? I felt like I probably should have dropped the deuce before I left the house because I felt that cup of black coffee working on my lower intestines. TMI?
I noticed that many people took off their shoes when we stood to accept his gaze. I left mine on, which might be where I went wrong. Does it not work with your shoes on? Why didn’t anyone tell me this? Why is everyone swaying? And while there might have been some silent weeping, there wasn’t nearly as much open sobbing as I had anticipated.
Seriously, I’ve seen more sobbing at a fucking yoga class. Tsk.
After five minutes the music faded out and he walked off the stage. No “thanks for coming” or “see ya suckers!” or anything! I noticed that his arms don’t swing while he walks. Weird.
A quick survey of the room, conservatively speaking, showed eight rows of 25 filled chairs. He made $8 x 200 people ($1600) divided that by five minutes ($320 a minute) or $5.33 a second. That guy might look like a rube, but he’s a fucking genius.
After Braco left we were invited to share our experience. Bill (his real name) from Dillon said that a few years ago he saw Braco and felt a bolt of energy so intense go into him that he would have fallen over had it not been for the chair in front of him.
He has a friend who is a “neurofeedback genius” and a Lama and she said he experienced Level 6 “girgif” energy (I’m not spelling it right, but I think it’s Sufi) which is just one level below universe creating energy. Holy shit!
That’s so intense! Too bad that didn’t happen at this session but you win some, you lose some, right?
Gina (her real name) from Omaha shared that she smashed her finger and sustained some nerve damage. Now she can feel her finger, although she admitted to not feeling any energy bolts or anything else at all. Let’s all clap for Gina!
And Mary (her real name) from Boulder first saw Braco with her husband in Hawaii. She held her business card to her chest because she wanted to heal her clients. Why are her clients sick? Is she a doctor? Isn’t it her job to heal them?
A few weeks after their gazing session she met a professional marketer who – prepare to be amazed – marketed her business (for a fee) and since then she’s got more business! Her business got healed! … which is what you hire a marketer to do. Her clients? Not so much.
I know what you are thinking and I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t be such closed-minded assholes. What are the chances that a marketer, in this economy, might be looking for work? It’s a miracle!
I think his staff (who works for free, if they don’t actually pay for the honor of attending him: AKA “traveling with him” … I’ve been down that road, paying to produce workshops for some new-age shyster) sensed the overwhelmingly underwhelming testimonials and ushered us out the door.
But not before his roadie encouraged us to open our
wallets hearts to Braco and keep the energy flowing through us by buying his books and DVD because (good news!) his energy flows through books and TV screens, too. Since the guy hasn’t spoken a single word, I have my doubts about his book.
I left the room and was instructed to turn left to exit and right to re-enter the room. I can’t believe how many people went back for more.
And now for the $8 question. Did Cushie’s neck get better?
I got the fuck out of there and in the parking lot a woman asked me for directions to the Braco event. I directed her to the lobby but I couldn’t resist saying under my breath, “Save your money.”
I would really like my money back. If you feel like you got something out of this post, please paypal $8 to firstname.lastname@example.org. In return I’ll mention your name on my blog and I guarantee that something will happen to you. Thanks!
I’d like to cut the crap but today was damn busy. Between catering a second grade end-of-year party, having MY MIND BLOWN, and writing this blog, I am le tired. Gazing. Lovingly. Silently. At you.