Moments 1

 

A Two Day Event with Braco in the UK

As the Braco event in London drew to a close, I awoke at dawn the next day to prepare for my journey back to the San Francisco Bay Area. Following my usual habit, I decided to share a meditation with my global online community. These are guided meditations sessions where I surrender to the direction of Spirit; they can last anywhere from twenty minutes to over an hour and vary widely—incorporating movement, silence and stillness, or a transmission, and the like.

This particular session began with a deep expression of gratitude for the Braco gazing events. I found myself encouraging others to witness the phenomenon of Braco through the many lenses of Spirit, staying open to every possible dimension and lesson—since there is so much to glean from with a fresh take each time. Through this, I arrived at a more comprehensive definition of the experience: Braco is an opportunity to reconnect with all aspects of yourself, especially those you dislike. That is where the real work lies. Bringing those parts into our conscious awareness is an active and joyful process—not always "fun," perhaps, but “joyful” nevertheless, because we recognize the profound importance of the realization.

I continued the guided meditation session for another forty minutes. Once finished, I realized forty minutes out of the forty six minutes went missing! Another test? Meanwhile, I sat back asking myself many such questions, since this sort of thing with electronics happens often. Another testament to the fact that I am not in charge. But I was dismayed. A part of me listened as I spoke, and I remember feeling so elated and in awe of the whole message, because the whole guided meditation turned into an appreciation of this phenomenon and presence known as Braco. In my heart I felt a renewed commitment, and I remember thinking in the background, “I am going to type this word for word.” But it was gone! 

It felt like a test—perhaps a challenge. I had a choice: let this testament to Divinity evaporate like a fleeting aroma, or follow through and type it anyway. I chose to type it, trusting that the same guidance would refine these words for the written page. I’m not usually this confident, but I am when it comes to these matters; I can recall every word of a forty-six-minute inspired message if the Spirit is behind it.

So, I begin again: My four-year-old son was with me this time. Although he was too young to attend the sessions, I wanted him to be near this presence. My cousin and I took turns caring for him so we could attend the sessions throughout the weekend of March 7th and 8th (2026) at the College of Psychic Studies in Kensington. The following day, more friends joined us, and my son had a wonderful time playing downstairs. The event staff were also kind enough to provide him with toys and crayons.

Now he lies here next to me, asleep. As his usual subtle snore turns into a silent, deep breath, I am in awe. As I speak of this presence, I’m dumbfounded to find he is breathing better—and that’s it, right here right now. This presence keeps surprising me this way and so we must be present with it. 

I did not intend to dwell on this topic, but I will. My son recovered from health concerns twice—both times after we consulted Braco and attended the gazing events. Now, as he lies here again, the concerns regarding his restricted nasal and breathing passages are being addressed even as I speak of Braco and share this meditation with you. His breathing is deep and silent, totally clear. I must stay on this topic, for this is the telling of many truths.

"He is quiet, so I spoke to him quietly," my son had said before falling asleep while describing Braco. He used those words after having the opportunity to meet Braco for a book signing at the end of several sessions.

I am not sure if this overwhelming sense of joy and appreciation translates through my words. My chest is filling with so many emotions… so we breathe… let us breathe…

Sometimes, in these guided meditations, we recite specific prayers—our own pleas and conversations with Divinity—or perhaps rehearsed words of revelation. In the stillness, each individual can do what feels right, guided by the spirit of our meditations. The silence lasts from a few breaths to several minutes. Sometimes there are instructions to gently move or touch where it hurts or the heart, asking what wishes to be expressed through the "body temple." These are the nuances of the sessions.

As I open my mouth again, I am speechless. Myself, my son, our lives… from 2012 to 2026, and for my son, from 2022 to 2026… we have had the fortune of knowing this presence: Braco, Ivica, and the Sun. So much…

See! This opportunity. This open window to eternity. These eyes in these gazing events  that are the windows to our souls. Not all eyes are windows to the soul—not if that window is closed and the curtain is pulled, and not if the soul is absent, lost far in the background, retreating into eternity. But here, these open eyes and windows welcome the soul from eternity back home.

As I turn to look at my child falling into a deeper rest merely by mentioning Braco, I am reminded of the previous times he received help. This opportunity. This open window to eternity. This silence. Even my four-year-old understands; he, too, becomes quiet. His labored breathing and narrow nasal passages open up in that silence. As a father, what can I say? There is so much to express, yet here we sit, quietly offering gratitude. But how do you truly express gratitude for this?

In quiet, in stillness, in silence… There is awe and wonder. It is the same wonder my son felt when he first saw Braco in a documentary on television. He was only a few months old and had just learned to make a few audible sounds. He could crawl, and as soon as he saw Braco on the screen, he let out a clear and loud audible “Wow!” I called to my partner, “Honey, come and look! He recognizes Braco.” My son sat there, animated and excited, watching him. That sense of awe is something no one teaches us—that innocent wonder and curiosity that discovers the world, the truth of this world, which we tend to forget as we get older.

All these scenes run through my mind. I remember when there was blood in his stools; we endured six months of doctor visits until we emailed Srebrnjak 1 (Braco’s center) to ask for assistance. Suddenly, we found a specialist who resolved the issue when no one else could in the months prior. Then there was the issue with his tonsils. They were about to be removed, but I visited the center in Zagreb and returned. During that time, I had given him the best alternative herbs and cleaned up his diet further—so perhaps what I had done had helped too—but suddenly, at the doctor's office, we heard: “Oh, look at those tonsils. They are perfect.” His mother and I looked at each other in disbelief. And here we are now—me and my son—listening to his clear breaths through those once-restricted passages.

Part of me is speechless, while another part wants to scream with joy. I want to shout: "How could you not? Why do you not? Go now while you can!" But I collect myself… I breathe again… and again… and remain quiet for a few minutes.

In another meditation, I shared an insight on this very presence: Silence is the ground upon which love grows. This quiet space, this moment, this window, this opportunity… I will stay there, now, here. Many people come and go; some dip their toes, some swim for pleasure, and others dive endlessly into this ocean to discover the jewels at the bottom of the sea. And yet, perhaps, there are those who become the sea, or the jewels, or both.

So here is the full story this time around regarding my son: During the sessions, it was announced that Braco would sign children's books—the ones where he is the main character alongside his Pomeranian, Pablo. I asked my son if he wished to say something to Braco when he went up for the signature. He nodded shyly. Knowing how much he had asked about Braco previously, I asked, “A hug?” He said, “Yes.”

The time before this visit, my son had seen Braco during his birthday gazing sessions where children were allowed to attend. Because Braco had to travel immediately afterward, there were no further opportunities to see him. My son spent those following days walking around the center, asking everyone, “Where is Braco? I want to see Braco.” Though he wasn't even four years old yet, he was met with such kindness from every volunteer and guardian; everyone got to know him, and by extension, they got to know me.

Now, here we were in the UK. I waited in anticipation to see how he would react to finally meeting Braco after the gaze, remembering how much he had longed for this during our previous visit. He approached Braco for a book signing but didn’t utter a word. I waited, refusing to pressure him. He had wanted to go up, yet when he stood there and Braco signed his books with a smile, he remained frozen. Knowing he was too shy to speak, we eventually returned to our seats. Later that night, I asked, “Did you not want to say anything to Braco?” Sometime later he said, “Dad, Braco did not hug me.” I told him, “Well, you have to offer or ask. Do you want to try again?” He nodded.

We bought another children’s book, this time for his teenage sister. As he walked up, I told him this was his chance. While the book was being signed, I mentioned, “This is for his sister,” then added, “Braco, he wants to say something.” I motioned to Al: “Papasi—go ahead, tell him.” (Papasi is my expression for “papa says,” referring to myself in the third person, as we sometimes do in our native tongue). He whispered, “Hug.” I repeated it louder: “He is asking if it’s okay to hug you.” Braco nodded and said, “Come here,” and I helped Al over the small step toward him.

Later that night, I asked him why he had been so quiet. His answer was simple: “Because Braco is quiet, so I spoke quietly.” I could only imagine that if I had asked why he didn't use his usual animated gestures, he might have said, “Because Braco stands still, I wanted to be still.” This is truly how he naturally communicates.

Now, I am back at the first scene as these memories flash before my eyes, my heart full. I listen to his deep, quiet breathing—his nasal passages clear—as I lead a meditation in the present tense. I write in that same spirit.

This “opportunity” is Braco: his gaze and the light of the Sun reflecting a presence that reconnects you with all aspects of yourself. Then there is the quiet—these windows. We often hear of a “window of opportunity” or the “window to the soul” in reference to the eyes. To me, this feels like a window to eternity, for the soul’s journey is eternal.

It sounds ethereal and mystical, yet here is the evidence: an innocent child next to me, healed three times, with signs of further transformation following. And I have not yet said anything about my own healings. Frankly, a part of me resists giving so much credit to just a man—a man like any other, like me. Perhaps there is envy that I cannot access such power myself. Sometimes I feel we all have "access" in our own unique ways, but that feels misplaced here. I fall into a bewildered state, slightly upset with myself for feeling so blessed by the presence of another man. I cannot quite figure out what bothers me; perhaps I am simply vulnerable beyond my own comprehension.

Is it because Braco appears to know exactly what he is doing in the public eye? Perhaps he proves that success in this way of life is possible, while my own path often feels solitary and lonely. I am not sure.

Regardless, in this state—where physical signs follow a deeper awareness of presence, something very physical is accompanied by something so esoteric and mystical, in silence and without words or phioosophies—there is a heightened creativity of expression. It is the combination of the window, the eyes, the stillness, and the physical proof of someone you love that makes it all seem unbelievable. Only the soul’s creativity can embrace it. It is a moment-to-moment experience that cannot be grasped; it is just here, close but not too close, far but not too far.

For instance, I look over and see my son’s breathing has returned to normal. I ask myself, “Is this really happening?” and then realize I am looking at it happen! As I move into the meditative space for the online group I lead, I speak on this stillness. As the inspirations pour out of me, I observe myself and think, “Am I really saying these things?” And yet, I am. I am reminded of Albert Einstein’s words: “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” I feel he was speaking of this kind of intuition—the creative imagination of the soul.

There is the knowledge we are given, and then there is a creative knowingness only possible in the present moment. How do you reconnect with all aspects of yourself—those hidden or wounded, or your greatest attributes that you hide from out of a fear of failure or fear of greatness?

***

To provide a deeper summary of why I have chosen to write this essay in this particular style, I must speak of the writings that have emerged since I first encountered Braco’s work in August 2012. There is much to glean from those live events, which spanned roughly three years.

During that time, I wrote three cycles of travel blogs while attending gazing events as Braco first began appearing on the U.S. mainland—touring through Arizona, California, and Oregon following his initial visit to Hawaii. The first series of blogs was inspired by an overwhelming urge to share raw emotions and discoveries as they arose, unfiltered and uncensored. With deep reverence for the process, I focused primarily on my own experiences and close encounters with those whose lives were being transformed—many of whom were close relations, while others were fellow attendees. Within just a few months, I noticed I had over 100,000 readers.

Consequently, I decided to shift my focus toward chronicling important recurring patterns, which I have come to call “Patterns of Transcendence.” By the end of the second cycle, my readership had grown by a few hundred thousand. During the third cycle, I felt a desire to deepen my discovery of specific phenomena, spending significant time on one particular subject before moving to the next. By the time this process neared its end around 2016, I had spent nearly four years attending Braco’s live events while also joining the free online streaming sessions.

In 2017, I was prompted to return to school in my forties to complete my graduate studies. My undergraduate background was in Computer Technology and, later, Philosophy and Religion, with electives in Holistic Health (emphasizing Holism and Consciousness Studies). I felt a strong urge to further these studies to better integrate my twelve years of "sabbatical field education" as a global pilgrim, researcher, and contemporary monk into daily life. As I did so, I decided to overhaul my website and online writings.

The reason for this makeover was that much of my previous writing was deeply esoteric and "fringe"; my intention in returning to academia was to better integrate these ideas into social norms. I began a new series of writings suited to that aim, maintaining my interest in esoteric and spiritual matters as the centerpiece. This required much more rigor than simple travel blogging. Pacing myself, I began writing various academic papers and essays, several of which were showcased at San Francisco State University. I often wrote of my insights into spiritual communities, specifically Braco’s community. I even introduced Braco’s live gazing sessions into a sophomore-level philosophy class I taught: Great Thinkers, East and West.

During and after my graduate studies, I often reflected on how to introduce a larger body of work focused exclusively on Braco. I began writing during a visit to Zagreb, Croatia, for Braco’s birthday celebration, and continued during the birthday celebration of Ivica, Braco’s spiritual mentor. The shape these writings took was a synthesis of esoteric literature (such as Spalding’s Life and Teaching of the Masters of the Far East), spiritual psychology (reminiscent of William James’s The Varieties of Religious Experience), and social science—a bridge between philosophy and the study of specific social groups. As I completed the introduction, I felt excited by its prospects; I do not believe a work of this kind exists with such emphasis on Braco’s contribution, though other researchers have certainly touched upon these themes.

While I was happy with the progress, it became clear that such a comprehensive work would take a long time to complete. In the meantime, following this trip—and feeling the keen interest that always arises when I am close to the live events—I felt moved to recommit in new ways. To do so, I thought during this very guided meditation and writing, I would begin writing a series of spiritual essays to lay the necessary groundwork. Perhaps this would also provide further motivation to complete the more esoteric work I had begun—a larger, more comprehensive body of work focused on Braco.

I have laid out these experiences to show that in this very space, all of this—and more—was made possible. It isn't just about the blogs or books I once struggled to produce and have now finished. Nor is it solely about the physical healing miracles or the "world of the miraculous." It is the totality of it all: a profound knowing that if so much is possible—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in such a short time, then what else lies ahead? I cannot wait to find out; it is the greatest adventure of my life.

I struggle to explain the "how." It is difficult to express genuine gratitude when so much emphasis is placed on one person. Part of me wishes that weren't the case, perhaps to make it feel more "acceptable," or maybe it is my own pride—the desire to believe my own work and life have independent meaning. I have mixed feelings about this reluctance; it has layers. Certainly, I matter, as does my contribution. Yet, I’ve decided to expose this tension without knowing where it leads. Regardless, one thing is clear: Braco is doing something so mysteriously remarkable that we will be speaking of it for a long time. As time passes, I believe more people will find themselves bewildered, wishing they had spent every possible minute in this presence.

In various books and documentaries—and in Braco’s own After the Great Tragedy—we catch glimpses of his world. I’ve gathered that he never takes credit for the transformations around him. He seems happy to hear of them, yet quickly thanks God, as if these miracles are simply signs that he is on the right path. As long as even one person benefits from this inexhaustible source, he continues. No matter how grandiose the report, he maintains a grounded, down-to-earth approach.

Those who traveled with him in the U.S. noted that when he does speak, he often uses the word "natural." One witness observed animals voluntarily approaching him; while others were amazed, Braco simply called it "natural." One gets the feeling that what we consider "supernatural" is, to him, the natural order. Perhaps that is the key: a threshold of knowing, a profound power in having faith in the best of what is available to us. He knows it is that simple.

Let me take a detour as I close. This is a segment our of the third cycle of my travel blogs, which I will now recount in summary. 

During a live event in San Diego, I experienced the "morphing" phenomena often reported during gazing sessions. This is when one’s field of vision morphs as they are gazing with Braco. People frequently describe Braco’s form shifting—seeing wings as though he becomes an angel, or the faces of spiritual masters appearing through him. These visions are so personal that I hesitate to share them, lest mockery diminish their value. However, in San Diego, these visions were so intense that by the end of the event, my glasses were blurry. When I took them off, I realized I could see better without them. The experience had physically altered my vision.

But I hadn't anticipated the spiritual phenomena happening in tandem. During the gazing, I saw Braco morph into various images of the Divine Mother Mary—Our Lady of Guadalupe (Mexico), then Our Lady of Medjugorje (Bosnia Hercegovina), then Our Lady of Zeitoun (Egypt). To say he "turned into" them is crude; it was more as if a light cast over and behind him to reveal these forms. I had studied Marian Apparitions as a student of Philosophy and Religion, but now, it was happening to me.

I didn't know where this was leading, but in the years since, I have formed a personal bond with Mother Mary in my heart. I now understand that these global apparitions are prophetic and revelatory events that touch everyone, regardless of religion. I say this not as a Catholic, but as a direct result of my own experience.

After that event, my eye prescription was reduced by three degrees, much to my optometrist's amazement. And my heart had opened to visions of a similar nature. Some might ask, "Why not a complete healing?" To me, that is irrelevant compared to the broader ramifications. Something is happening here that is impossible to describe in linear language. We may need to learn the "language of light." After all, that is what eyes do—they process the light spectrum. Perhaps one day we will understand just how powerful that is.

I have also built a lifestyle that allows me to remain receptive to this power, and that is hard work—in fact, it is a kind of hard work that is harder than any job or occupation, and one that gains very little recognition in this world. So I cannot say which came first—my readiness or the miracles themselves, the person Braco or the previous influences which are still there that help me embrace and receive this phenomena. Rather than any one thing, it is a multidimensional reality, what physicist David Bohm called the "Holographic Universe." In his model, every part contains the whole, accessible through the "implicate order"—an inner, “enfolded” world. This multidimensionality is what is being tapped into, resulting in the unfolding of a once-enfolded world into our own.

***

In this essay, I have provided a sampling of the various writing styles I’ve used to introduce the presence known as Braco, his mentor Ivica, and "the Sun"—the way this energy is often described. More importantly, by looking through the prism of this window that reveals this presence, I have attempted to describe the ineffable, indescribable mystery. Here, I have offered one simple description, calling it an opportunity that reconnects and reminds us of every part of ourselves; however, I have described it a hundred other ways at different times.

Just yesterday, a spiritual brother asked me, “How was your two-day journey to see Braco?” Although I have many ways of explaining why I would travel to the UK for a weekend just to attend this event—where I was also met by a beloved cousin—it comes down to this: that close proximity builds me at my core. It strengthens my foundation. Suddenly, I found myself providing an entirely new description. Perhaps each person could do the same: revise and describe this presence in every way it touches them, for it is all those things. This particular description pertains to why I choose to be physically in the vicinity of this presence.

I know there are others throughout the world recognized for profound gifts and abilities. There are great teachers and masters who, like Braco, radiated their gaze upon those who came to see them—such as the great Sage of India, the beloved Ramana Maharshi, the silent master of Arunachala. There are also great spiritual healers and modalities that produce similar results or offer overlapping teachings. However, I do not believe comparison is the best way to receive this presence, nor is it the best way to receive the other presences or modalities to which it is compared.

When something is wholly unique, it deserves its own due attention—one’s full focus, given to that and nothing else. I liken this to finding the best food you have ever tasted. Imagine finding a place that offered an incredible array of dishes that gave you new life. You had eaten tens of thousands of times before, and rarely asked who the chef was. But this time, you have to know. Not only do you want to know who the chef is, you want to know him. I often say that in life, we must know the hand that feeds us. Although that hand is ultimately the Divine in its myriad manifestations, it may also be my mother or a godsent chef. Just as no child, mother, or lover wants to be compared to another, those godsent souls who save our lives should be honored and recognized for exactly who they are.

That said, I may segue in a different direction. I once found myself saying, pun intended, that a vegetable juice may be more important than a spiritual master if it saves your life while that master remains merely an "object of affection" out there. In that regard, celery juice—which I fast on daily—may be more important than Braco, that is if Braco was merely an instrument for moments of desperation, which he is not. This is my way of saying that certain things in life are equally vital, and under specific circumstances, one may take precedence over the other. And yet, in a holy dance of cosmic matrimony these are interrelated and interdependent aspects of the same movement. In fact, one fosters a deeper connection to the other. The very spirit of the herb that heals the body resides within the same spirit that saves the soul; consider them an eternal ebb and flow of concentric, expanding fields—some occupying a smaller sphere of intelligence, and others a greater one. But for the mind's understanding it is a matter of application, not comparison. In the same light, the realizations and meanings found within Marian Apparitions during Braco’s gazing events transcend the person of Braco himself, especially considering how I have felt that presence ever since.

This is where my writing becomes more intricate, moving into the fourth series of works I am developing regarding Braco’s gaze. In this series, I propose that there are shared realities existing objectively—both in the lives of those who experience them and as a specific body of knowledge. For instance, there is a shared experience among those whose field of vision morphs into awesome realities during the gazing events with Braco, and that first appears unbelievable, but subsequently becomes actual—like my experience of seeing various depictions of Mother Mary through Braco’s gaze. In the realm of the miraculous, apparitions serve a purpose, and they are in themselves a body of knowledge that impacts lives in significant ways. Those who have these experiences share in a reality pertaining to that body of knowledge. Individuals embodying that knowledge breathe new life into its existence, and that knowledge, in turn, has more to give, uplifting those individuals into its reality.

This is how we adopt a qualitative sense of reality. What is real is simply there, whether it is the greatest of mysteries or the chair before me. What distinguishes one reality from another is the qualitative measure by which it exists and the quality of attention that recognizes it. We are now in the domain of qualitative measures—the quality of presence, the quality of life, and the quality of attention, and here I say, our quality life is directly proportional to our quality of attention, which is directly proportional to the quality of presence we observe—a great study of theophanies, those encounters deemed Divine that pertain to one’s source and creator. And with that I close this essay. 

—Houman Z. Emami © 

*Copyright 2026: No part of this writing may be reproduced in any form, electronic, digital, or otherwise, without the prior consent of its author: Houman Z. Emami.