Live in the house that integrity built

It’s full of delight.

I recently listened to a podcast episode with Martha Beck, and something she said struck a chord. The kind of sentence that wraps itself around something I’ve known for a long time, but hadn’t heard in words before.

She said:
“The universe sends your desires to your home address. And your home address has to be peace.”

It’s such a great way of saying it. You can’t get what you want if you’re in a fragmented, hostile state of mind. The universe isn’t going to chase you around trying to throw your desires at you (I mean, it might miss).

If we want to receive what we long for, we have to be in a place that can receive it. That inner state we’re asking for — peace, ease, clarity, joy — has to become the place we operate from, not the reward we hope to reach. You need to be there. Be present. Notice.

We spend so much of our time chasing — clarity, success, love, meaning, relief. We try to earn these things by performing for them, striving toward them, strategising around them.

But what if the things we long for can’t land when we’re in that mode? What if those things don’t come to the version of us that’s out there chasing? What if they’re already right in front of us, but we’re too busy running towards the horizon to notice?

What if they can only arrive when we’re home?

Not the house we grew up in. Not the role we’ve learned to play. Not the place where things are hidden or rearranged for approval. Not hustle, not urgency, not overthinking. Not striving to be palatable, or proving that we’re useful, or guessing what other people need.

But the real home — the internal state everything gets routed through. The one that shapes everything. The one built on integrity and clarity.

When we’re in that place, life works better. It feels better. There’s more ease. Less resistance. We’re not so caught up in fixing or overreaching. We’re just… here. Available. Able to notice the good things rather than miss them while we’re getting tangled up in performing or chasing or tweaking things to fit. (And really, to fit what?)

So peace is not quite the right word for me. What I really mean when I think of being “at home” is integrity.

Integrity doesn’t mean perfection. It doesn’t mean seriousness. It doesn’t mean being good. And it doesn’t mean moral uprightness.

Integrity means being real. It means being whole. It means that you don’t leave parts of yourself at the door to be allowed in. It means knowing what you’re really feeling.

So this is the sentence that came to me:

Live in the house that integrity built — it’s full of delight.

And when you feel the delight — well, that’s how you know you’re home.

Not because everything’s perfect. But because when we’re in integrity, delight becomes available. It becomes visible. It sneaks into quiet moments and reminds us that we’re already where we’re supposed to be.

I’ve worked with enough clients to know how many people long for this. The deep shift from chasing to receiving. From proving to resting. From being in constant motion to simply being real.

You don’t have to push so hard.

Instead, start paying attention to what pulls at you. And then - gently - start clearing away the beliefs that keep you from following it.