The Ceremony We Forgot
Every so often, reality cracks open.
Not through a ritual, not in ceremony—just in the middle of a normal day.
You might be sitting at the beach, light flickering on the water, and suddenly it hits: What even is this? How is any of this real? How do I exist in the middle of it?
It’s not a thought. It’s an awareness.
Something in you remembers: this isn’t ordinary.
It’s miraculous.
The Hidden Wildness of Ordinary Life
We live like we understand what’s happening here, but we don’t.
Photons from a distant star bounce off the ocean and become color in your mind.
Atoms organize into bodies, memories, laughter.
A planet spins through infinite dark and still delivers you a sunrise.
That’s the real trip.
The Mexican psychologist Jacobo Grinberg spent his life trying to understand this—how consciousness shapes what we call “reality.” He called it the lattice, a living field of awareness that we co-create through perception. In other words, the world you experience isn’t “out there.” It’s a relationship between your consciousness and the infinite.
When you feel awe, when you lose your sense of separation—that’s not imagination. It’s a brief moment when the lattice shows itself.
And maybe that’s why so many people feel disconnected. They’ve stopped sensing the field, so they chase intensity—psychedelics, endless novelty, new spiritual highs—trying to remember what’s been here all along.
But the veil has always been thin.
You don’t need to break through it.
You just need to pause long enough to see it move.
Reality as Ceremony
Some of the most transcendent moments of my life looked completely ordinary: sitting under a pine tree, watching light shift across a wall, realizing I’m part of the same fabric that’s creating it all.
Ceremony isn’t something we attend—it’s something we remember.
It’s the act of noticing.
When you drink water with reverence, when you watch sunlight dance on a leaf and let yourself feel it—that’s ceremony.
Attention is the altar.
Presence is the prayer.
You don’t need to go searching for sacred experiences.
You’re standing in one.
If You Want to Remember
Start small:
Step outside before your mind wakes up and let the morning light hit your eyes.
Watch the way shadows move across the floor without narrating it.
Feel your heartbeat when you realize you’re alive again.
Ask: What if this moment is the miracle?
That’s Shinrin-yoku in its truest form—not a practice, but a perception.
A remembering of what’s always been true.
The Invitation
Jacobo once said that the true frontier isn’t space, but consciousness.
I think he was right.
We don’t need to escape the matrix.
We just need to wake up inside it.
To realize that every sound, every breath, every flicker of light is proof that the lattice is alive—and you’re part of it.
Reality is still wild.
It’s still holy.
It’s right here.
If this spoke to you, spend five minutes outside today and see if you can feel the lattice moving.
With love,
Lindsay