Finding Magic by Sally Quinn

Author:Sally Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

I don’t think that faith, whatever you’re being faithful about, really can be scientifically explained. And I don’t want to explain this whole life business through truth, science. There’s so much mystery. There’s so much awe.

—Jane Goodall, in conversation with Bill Moyers, Bill Moyers Journal, PBS

Nothing reveals to us more clearly that we are dependent on grace and love than becoming a parent—and this is doubly true for parents of children with special needs.

How can I possibly describe Quinn? Magical is the first word that comes to mind. He’s like a woodland creature, a nymph who appears from behind the trees in the forest or out of a gurgling brook or perched on a rock sparkling in the sun. I told him when he was first born he had “the magic,” and I’ve told him that all his life.

Although my mother had “the magic,” as did Ben, Quinn has it in excess. He is a joyous, kind, funny, smart, loving human being, without an ounce of malice in him. He is trusting, too trusting at times. He’s friendly and loves to be held, even now in his thirties.

A few years after Quinn was born, I consulted a psychic who was in town giving readings to some of my friends. She told me that Quinn had been abandoned in a forest in his past life and had virtually raised himself. He had chosen Ben and me to be his parents in this life because he knew he would be most cherished by us. He was certainly right about that.

I’m unsure of my views on past lives, but what I do know is that what she said struck a chord with me. I had the sense that this tiny being had come from a place where he had not been loved, that he craved the love he had never had, that he knew he could not survive without it, and that he would now get all the love he needed.

. . .

Svetlana Godillo was a Washington astrologer whom I had gotten to know. She was Polish by birth but had been married to a Russian, then an American. She spoke with a thick accent. She had masses of unruly dark hair, wore scarves and bandanas, large hoop earrings, chains and crosses, many layers of silks and paisleys, and colorful draped clothing. Her apartment seemed decorated to resemble her. She was the queen of fringe. There were always candles and soft lighting. She created an atmosphere of mystery. To her, everyone was “my dahlink.” She was dramatic and very opinionated.

I actually started seeing Svetlana before Caroline Casey, and I thought she was pretty good (although once I went to Caroline, nobody could compare to her). Early on, I sent everyone to Svetlana. My mother went. I sent Barry Goldwater. By 1979, she had gained such a reputation that I convinced the Style editor that he ought to ask Svetlana to write a column about Washington political figures. He did and she did and it was an instant hit.

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