It was a Sunday. March 27, 1988.
It was a lovely afternoon, my mother later recounted. We had arrived from a family lunch at my grandparents’ country house and my father had just left home for the gym in his Land Cruiser van.
A few days ago, my father had a conversation with my mother, he was worried about the family’s safety. Apparently, the FARC were kidnapping civilians to extort money from their families.
Much later, I got to know that on that lovely Sunday afternoon, FARC members had forcefully entered my father’s car to kidnap him. This happened only two blocks away from our house. In an attempt to escape, my father activated the car’s gas safety lock that stopped the car five blocks ahead. Seeing the situation get out of hand, the guerilla members shot him at his lungs, liver, and stomach.
My mother was called to the hospital and told that my father was dead. Within a few hours, life changed: from enjoying a grand family meal to learning that the family had been broken, forever.
I was fourteen months old.
The coming years were tough. When my mother would get late while returning from work, my sisters and I would sit in our living room praying for her to come back safely. I tried to be free and peaceful. But no matter how much I tried, my heart was hard as a rock.
My mother tried to make it better. She did not cultivate hatred for my father’s killers. She told us to be close to the Divine and to look for God.
And so I did. I searched for years, trying different meditations and reading sacred books of every tradition. Then one day I stumbled into a full moon meditation session of The Art of Living. Afterward, we sang and danced. After a really long time, this heart of stone began to crumble. From then on, my life changed.
I started helping The Art of Living community to organize programs. I just knew these programs could change people’s lives the way they did for me. It was a great adventure. I became this radiant girl, full of enthusiasm and energy.
So, I felt absolutely grateful when The Art of Living began discussions with the FARC. Because I knew spirituality could change them. I kept telling Fransisco (Director, The Art of Living Mexico) when he went to meet the FARC for a preliminary round of discussions: “Thank you, thank you, thank you”!
Later when the FARC declared a unilateral ceasefire, I knew it was coming! The most poignant experience was assisting The Art of Living program for the widows, orphans, brothers, and mothers of Congressmen, who like my father, had been murdered by the FARC. I so wanted to teach them what changed my life without me even noticing, that which freed my heart after so long. It felt so good when these people reconciled with the FARC members and forgave them. Finally, their burden got lifted as it got lifted for me.
- Alexandra Lozano, Art of Living Faculty, South America
Stories of Change is a series of stories about people in The Art of Living community who have witnessed transformation in their lives and are now bringing it in other’s lives too.
Written by Vanditaa Kothari
