Sanctuary by Naomi Judd
People say I seem “grounded” for a celebrity. Here at my farm “Peaceful Valley” in Tennessee, I’m “grounded” in my woods, valley, meadows, hills, creeks, and hollows. This is where I live. It’s where my family, friends, and neighbors are. It’s where my soul belongs. If I’m away too long, a yearning for home comes on like a chronic, internal ache.
Traveling border to border and coast to coast on my tour bus, I get to appreciate the variety of America’s geographical landscapes and multi-cultural expressions. In New York City, bustling yellow cabs honk impatiently. Back home, when someone honks it’s usually just a friendly greeting. Motorist on Los Angeles freeways may suffer random explosions of road rage. Meanwhile drivers here choose to pullover and stop on the side of the road to honor the passing funeral procession of a stranger.
To read more of Naomi Judd’s essay, please purchase your copy of SOUTH-What it means to be here in heart or in spirit