The thing is, in the dating profiles it says 'spiritual,' but not

When Lisa Lampanelli said, “The thing is, in the dating profiles it says ‘spiritual,’ but not with a specific religion. And so I pretty much try to meditate, but I have a very hard time concentrating on things other than me,” she spoke with the humor of a comedian, yet beneath her laughter lies the confession of the human heart. Her words, though playful, touch a truth that is both ancient and eternal — the struggle between self and spirit, between the desire for transcendence and the gravity of self-centeredness. It is a battle as old as humankind, fought not in the outer world, but in the quiet chambers of the soul.

The origin of this quote lies in Lampanelli’s own reflections on modern spirituality — a world where many seek enlightenment without the guidance of tradition, where meditation is practiced as much for self-improvement as for self-forgetting. Her honesty cuts through the polished surface of such pursuits. She admits, with refreshing candor, that the hardest part of meditation is not the stillness, but the surrender — the letting go of “me.” In that admission, she joins the company of countless seekers through history who discovered that the path to wisdom begins not in mastery, but in humility.

To the ancients, this struggle was sacred. The philosopher Socrates declared, “The unexamined life is not worth living,” yet he also warned that the greatest obstacle to knowledge is the belief that one already knows. Lampanelli’s difficulty in focusing beyond herself mirrors this truth — that the self is both the gate and the barrier to enlightenment. The ego, like a restless child, demands attention; it whispers its desires, fears, and doubts until the still voice of the divine is drowned out. To meditate, therefore, is not merely to close one’s eyes, but to wrestle with the oldest adversary of the soul — the self that cannot bear silence.

In the spiritual traditions of the East, this struggle is portrayed vividly. The Buddha sat beneath the Bodhi tree and faced the temptations of Mara, the demon of illusion. Yet Mara was not an external being, but the embodiment of inner distraction — the ego’s endless craving for importance. When the Buddha opened his eyes and touched the earth, he did not destroy Mara; he simply recognized him and let him pass. Lampanelli’s humor, then, conceals a profound truth: every person who seeks peace must first confront the noise of their own mind. The hardest part of meditation — and indeed of love, of faith, of life — is learning to look beyond oneself.

Yet there is grace in her self-awareness. For to admit one’s inability to concentrate on anything but oneself is already to have begun the work of awakening. The ancients taught that self-knowledge is the first step toward liberation. Just as a mirror must be cleaned before it reflects light, the mind must acknowledge its own clutter before it can glimpse truth. Lampanelli’s words remind us that even in failure, there is progress; every moment of awareness, no matter how imperfect, brings the soul closer to clarity.

Her reflection also speaks to the modern world’s fascination with spirituality without structure. Many, like the people in those “dating profiles,” describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious” — seekers without temples, wanderers without maps. This, too, has its beauty, for it reflects the freedom of the individual soul to seek truth in its own way. But Lampanelli’s honesty reminds us that spirituality is not a fashion or a self-image; it is a discipline, a lifelong training of the heart to see beyond the self. The ancients would say: to meditate is not to think of nothing, but to think of everything — to expand one’s awareness until it embraces the universe.

The lesson here is profound and tender: do not scorn yourself for being distracted, but keep returning to the center. The mind will wander, the ego will shout, but patience will quiet them. In time, you will learn that meditation — and indeed, love itself — is not the annihilation of self, but its transformation. Begin where you are, as Lampanelli does: with humor, with honesty, with humility. Every breath taken in awareness is a step toward the infinite.

And so, her words, though spoken in jest, echo the wisdom of the sages: the path to the divine begins with the recognition of the self’s limits. We are all learners, fumbling toward light, distracted yet sincere. Be gentle with yourself in this struggle, and remember that even the attempt to look beyond “me” is an act of courage. For the spirit, like a flame, does not demand perfection — only persistence. And through that persistence, even the restless mind may one day find stillness, and in that stillness, discover eternity.