Reflections on Spirituality: Between Illusion and Truth

These past few weeks, I have been observing…

For a few weeks now, I have been watching what circulates on social media. More and more people are speaking out to denounce the excesses of certain spiritual paths, the lies and illusions, what is sometimes called the spiritual ego.

I have to be honest: I resonate with many of these messages. I feel there is something true there, something that deserves to be named.

Yes, there is a lot of confusion in the world of spirituality today. Yes, there are embellished stories, implicit promises of rapid transformation, staged "awakenings". Yes, some approaches feed the character more than the truth.

But at the same time, something deeply bothers me about the way these denunciations are often expressed.

When lucidity loses kindness

What strikes me is not so much the substance of these criticisms (often fair) as the tone, the harshness, sometimes even the contempt that comes with them. As if seeing clearly gave permission to judge. As if having understood something granted a moral right to crush those who haven't seen it yet.

I am deeply convinced of one thing: every person is sincerely trying to do the best they can with the level of awareness they have at a given moment. Even when they are mistaken. Even when they tell themselves stories. Even when they draw other people into those stories.

In most cases, it isn't conscious manipulation. It is fear, unexamined wounds, an immense need to exist, to be recognized, to be loved.

The spiritual character: a substitute identity

Where many criticisms hit the mark is when they highlight the construction of a spiritual character. A special character, an "activated" character, a character carrying gifts, powers, extraordinary abilities.

Why this need? Because simply being oneself, without a special story, without a flattering role, without a mystical aura, is sometimes unbearable for the ego. So we build ourselves a spiritual identity. We rely on intense experiences, often bodily or emotional. We turn them into proof of our uniqueness.

Little by little, it is no longer the inner truth that matters, but the story. The experience becomes validation. The story becomes an identity card. The more spectacular the story, the more the character seems to exist.

When the story serves to avoid inner responsibility

There is something very subtle in this mechanism: the spiritual character makes it possible to avoid looking at what is really there inside. As long as I can say, "Something extraordinary happened to me," I don't have to look at, "What am I still running from?"

As long as I define myself by what I have lived, I can avoid facing what in me remains unrecognized, unloved, unowned. The story becomes a protection, a shining armor, a way of not taking full responsibility for one's mind.

The invisible contract: healer and victim

From there, a very common exchange takes place, often unconsciously. An invisible deal. I buy your healer character. You buy my character of someone who needs fixing.

One needs someone who acts, activates, heals, liberates. The other needs someone to save, to accompany, to transform. Each validates the other's identity. But deep down, no one truly reclaims their inner sovereignty.

Because as long as I believe that something or someone outside must transform me, I can avoid looking at what in me simply asks to be seen, recognized, moved through.

The spirituality of the spectacular

Today, what works in the spiritual world is not simplicity. It's the spectacular. The full retreats are often the ones that promise the most. The ones that give the impression of a before and an after. The ones that offer a magic wand.

We are seeing more and more techniques that act directly on the nervous system, sometimes very brutally. Intense surges, emotional discharges, strong catharses. And yet, an essential question is rarely asked: is it really necessary?

Or is it simply more appealing than the discreet, humble, silent path… the one that gives you nothing to show, nothing to tell, nothing to sell?

Why do we prefer the false to the true?

There is a deep understanding, shared by many non-dual teachings: the human mind often prefers a reassuring illusion to a simple truth. Why? Because truth doesn't flatter the character. It gives it no role. It doesn't promise it will become someone more.

On the contrary, it invites us to drop identities, stories, spiritual functions. And that can be experienced as an enormous loss. Because if I am no longer "the one who lived something exceptional", who am I?

Harshness, confrontation… or yet another round of "I'm right"

And this is where I want to come back to the way some denunciations are made. When criticism becomes harsh, cutting, humiliating, we very quickly slip into another form of ego: "I'm right and you're wrong".

Even if the substance is right, the form recreates separation. In that dynamic, no real progress is possible. Because everyone stays entrenched in their position, everyone defends their identity: the one who knows against the one who is mistaken.

That said, I want to be honest too: yes, some people wake up because they are confronted. Because it stings. Because it hurts. Because something cracks. So confrontation isn't always useless. But it isn't a universal truth.

For my part, I choose gentleness. Not out of naivety. Not out of fear of conflict. But because I feel it is the right path for me.

What A Course in Miracles really says

If I refer to the teaching of A Course in Miracles, the message is very clear: it is not the content of the illusion that must be fought, but the belief in separation that must be healed. The Course never invites us to correct others. It never invites us to convince. It never invites us to attack error.

It invites us to change the way we see. To choose another teacher in the mind. To let love correct what fear has made. From this perspective, attacking illusion in others is still believing that illusion has real power.

A required course… for everyone

And then there is this fundamental idea, which I deeply love: awakening is not optional. It is a required course. For each of us. Whatever the path. Whatever the detours. However long it takes.

We will all, sooner or later, be guided inwardly toward the same recognition. Toward the same peace. Toward the same gentle, patient, non-violent voice. The voice the Course calls the Holy Spirit.

So rather than denouncing harshly, rather than wanting to be right, I prefer to remain in the service of that gentleness. Because deep down, it is not illusion that needs to be fought, it is fear that needs to be surrendered to love.

Conclusion: Toward an Authentic Spirituality

Ultimately, we are all seeking an authentic spirituality. A spirituality that isn't content with the surface, but dives into the depths of our being. We must remember that every path is unique, and that kindness is essential in our exploration.

So how can we move forward together toward this truth? How can we support one another in our quest for light, while honoring our shadows? The answer may lie in our ability to listen, to understand and to love, even when it seems difficult.

We all have something to learn from one another. And it is in this connection that we find the true essence of our spirituality.