Sigri, I have been underestimating the logistical requirements of our organization, I think.

Over the past months, it's become clearer that the further our message spreads, the more

systems we must put in place for containing it. Ideas spread easily, but they do not easily

maintain their purity. They distort and mutate if you don't keep a close eye on them.

Even if an idea stays in the mind of one person, you cannot be sure that it won't change

while it's there, morph into something alien or strange. It has been encouraging, as I've

traveled, to find how many people in so many different places are receptive to my teachings.

But being receptive is only the beginning. If they are truly aligned with our faith,

they must act in line with our actions. It's only logical.

When I started this journey, I thought that I would find it hard to be away from you,

away from the group, away from my home, and it was. It is. But as I traveled away from my home,

I found that I was also heading towards home, towards many homes.

In the chilly, orange and yellow woods of Lach Saint Pierre, to the rocky fur-lined hills of

Sandpoint, to the tiled roofs in Bangalore, to the red algae-lined shores of the Gulf of Mexico.

It's painful sometimes to have multiple homes. If you're drawn to them all at the same time,

and you cannot have them, I miss the dinner blessings of the La Palma family,

and I hope they still lift my name before each meal. I miss Rose Simmurales' rugged

practicality. She taught me how to clean a rifle and to conserve water in the hide desert,

something I never had to think much about in our home. And of course, Sigrid, I miss you.

I have so many homes now in so many places, and it is worse than that. For while, some may have more

than one home, for most, that is all it is. But for me, all of these homes are my responsibility.

I don't know if it's possible for you to understand Sigrid. The way it feels to have so many

...