Life is an illusion: What I learned from my Spiritual Trip in Germany

Germany wasn’t where I expected my reality to break.

It wasn’t some holy temple or sacred monastery tucked into the clouds. It was just a quiet part of the world, far from the distractions of home. But it was there, surrounded by old buildings, cold air, and stillness, that I finally understood what my spiritual master meant when he said:

When I first heard it, I laughed a little. Not out loud, but inside. Because how could life be an illusion? I can touch my hands. I can see the trees. I can feel pain. I bleed. I cry. I love. I lose. If this isn’t real, then what is?

But my Sifu wasn’t talking about the senses. He wasn’t saying the world is fake like some sci-fi simulation. He was pointing at something much deeper, something you only understand when you stop trying to think your way into truth and instead allow your soul to remember.

At first, I tried to argue with the idea. I thought: “If I can see the sun, walk the streets, eat food, build a life, how can it not be real?” But that was the trap. I was equating realness with physical form. I thought just because something had shape, it had truth. But eventually, it clicked. It wasn’t about whether the world exists. It was about whether it lasts.

And that’s where everything changed.

Because when you die, when you close your eyes for the final time, you bring none of this with you. Not your house. Not your car. Not your bank account. Not the followers on your Instagram. Not the body you worked so hard to sculpt. Not even the names of people who once hurt you. All of it? Gone. Like fog burning off under morning sunlight.

I started to see how much of my life had been built on sand. I thought I was building castles, but they were just shadows cast by my own hunger. I chased money, thinking it would bring peace. I wanted recognition, thinking it would make me feel enough. I chased love, thinking someone else could complete what I hadn’t sat still long enough to complete in myself.

But during that trip, something shifted. Deep down. Quietly.

I started to see that the only thing truly real in this life is your soul and how you make others feel. That’s it. Everything else is a prop on a stage, borrowed for a short while, then returned when the curtain falls. No one gets to take anything with them. Not even their name.

I began reflecting on all the things I had been taught to value. We’re raised in a world that tells us to hustle, to climb, to win. But no one teaches us how to let go. No one tells us that the path to true freedom is not addition, but subtraction. Not grasping, but releasing.

In Germany, I sat alone and confronted four illusions that had quietly dominated my life. The illusion of money. The belief that more would mean I’m safe. The illusion of fame, that being seen would mean I’m finally enough. The illusion of power, that control could protect me from pain. And the illusion of love, not real love, but the kind of love that’s based on possession, expectation, and fear.

Letting go of these things wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t a lightning strike. It was like slowly peeling off armour I didn’t know I was wearing. And under it all, I found something I hadn’t touched in a long time: peace.

It’s not that these things are evil. You can enjoy money. You can experience love. You can taste success. But the illusion is believing they are you. The illusion is building your identity around them. The illusion is that they last forever.

What I’ve come to understand is that attachment is the root of all spiritual confusion. And detachment is not about living a cold, numb life; it’s about moving through the world with clarity. It’s about holding things in your hands without letting them own your heart.

In daily life, this means something simple but hard: you still go to work. You still build. You still love. But you stop tying your worth to the outcome. You stop thinking “if I don’t get this, I’m nothing.” You stop making your peace conditional on external circumstances. Detachment doesn’t mean disconnection. It means freedom. It means participating fully without being imprisoned by any of it.

You want to get fit? Go for it. But don’t confuse your abs with your value. You want to earn more? No problem. Just don’t forget that every dollar will one day turn to dust. You want to love someone deeply? Beautiful. But remember: they are not your soul. They are a mirror. And when that mirror fades, your soul remains.

When I returned from that trip, I saw the world with different eyes. The same buildings. The same streets. But they felt softer now. Less sharp. I no longer needed to control everything. I didn’t need to win every battle. I didn’t need to be more. Because I had remembered what I actually am and what you are, too.

We are not here to collect things. We are here to remember who we are beneath all the noise. The soul is not here to conquer the world. It’s here to feel it. To move through it. To love gently. To let go when it’s time.

So if you’ve been feeling lost, or if you’ve been chasing something that always seems just out of reach, stop for a second. Ask yourself: “What am I holding onto that is actually holding me back?”

Let go of what you thought would save you.

And watch who you become.

Because only when we stop gripping the illusion

Do we begin to live in truth