The Weight of Air — Complete at Last

For years, friends and readers have encouraged me to bring together my writing, photography, and art into one work. At last it is done.

Back in 2008, I spent nearly a year circling the globe—painting, photographing, and writing weekly dispatches for this blog, My Fairy-Tale Life. Those notes, along with thousands of photographs, became the seed of a long-dreamed project: a travel memoir called, The Weight of Air: A Memoir of Surrender and Becoming.

After many months of focused work—learning new design tools, revisiting old journals, editing, and polishing—the book is finished. It is now available in two digital formats: a beautifully designed PDF and an interactive flipbook. An ePub edition is on the horizon.

I’m grateful to publish it under my own imprint, Twin-Flames Press, which carries a story close to my heart. After my daughter Naomi died in 1999, I would return each year to San Francisco and stay in the same hotel where we had once lived while she underwent healing sessions with a Russian psychic. This, after all mainstream and alternative efforts had failed. The first time I went back alone, the receptionist, Cecelia, recognized me. When I reached my room, I found flowers and a kind note waiting. Many on the staff had known Naomi and me. Cecelia said softly, “You two were like twin flames.” The words struck deep, capturing something essential about our bond—and so Twin-Flames became the name of my publishing company.

It was under that name that I first published A Heart Traced in Sand, Reflections on a Daughter´s Struggle for Life, about the life and passing of my daughter. That book, created in love and grief, went on to win two awards and taught me the discipline and devotion of self-publishing through InDesign—the same tool I used again to craft this new volume.

It has been years since I undertook an effort of such magnitude. Now it stands complete: a journey around the world, woven through words and images, tracing the dissolving boundaries between inner and outer life. The journey continues—through art, through story, through the invisible breath that connects everything.

You can explore or purchase The Weight of Air or A Heart Traced in Sand directly here — available by donation, with a suggested price of $18.

To take a look at the flipbook for free, click here.

Thank you to all who have followed the unfolding of this work through my weekly Substack posts. Your encouragement helped carry it to the finish line.

DICHOS de Nuestras Abuelitas

The bookmaking art is very satisfying. With industry tools at hand today, I find the process sometimes breathtaking. 

My first book, A Heart Traced In Sand, Reflections on a Daughter’s Struggle for Life, is about my daughter Naomi’s life and death. 

I self-published and created a publishing company—named after a phrase that someone said to me. 

Here is the story: 

A woman, Cecelia, worked behind the front desk at the hotel Naomi and I lived in while she was seeing a healer in San Francisco. The staff came to know and become fond of us. When I went back the spring after Naomi died, my room was decorated with flowers, with a lovely note. 

Cecelia welcomed me, and in an off-hand way described Naomi and I as Twin-Flames. The phrase stuck in my mind. 

A Heart Traced In Sand was published in 2001 and has won two awards.

Since then, in 2005  I published a book of artwork, called Hangups. It is an eclectic collection from a series of paintings I made of faces hanging from clothespins suspended on clotheslines. 

Being married to Amy Córdova y Boone, an artist, author and illustrator is a perfect partnership for publishing. Before we became a couple, Amy had put together writings and art for books, then set it all aside. Now I am resurrecting the material. The first is a little gem, DICHOS de Nuestras Abuelitas. I have been readying it for publication in a couple months. It is bi-lingual. In Spanish, dichos are sayings concisely written or spoken—expressions that are especially memorable because they are pithy and contain wisdom.

Page 13, DICHOS de Nuestras Abuelitas 

“Children know perfectly well that unicorns aren’t real, but they also know that books about unicorns, if they are good books, are true books.” – Ursula K. Le Guin