A watched pot never boils, and other nonsense (potatoes)

This is not true. Many cooks will tell you that a watched pot never boils, but I personally don't believe this to be true. I think that if you stand there watching the pot as it boils (which is sexy really, if you think about it, all of the steam and small bubbles rising from the heat and then bursting) it just seems like it takes longer because we are there scrutinizing, yelling at the water or broth or rice because it is not boiling fast enough. I often feel this way about my spiritual process, which is sexy when you aren't thinking about it, and which crumbles when you do think about it. Best not to keep the head involved. Best to give it a knitting project, something consuming to keep the monkey mind busy. If you can put it in another room, or just drop your mind and live from your heart, that's essential, but don't worry if you're not there yet. Or, no, I take that back. You are there! How freeing, right? Wherever we are in the process is exactly where we are meant to be. Or we could even boil that down a bit further: wherever we are in the process is where we are meant to be is where we are in the process is where we are! So today I was feeling heavy and lethargic, like somebody had replaced my energy with a sack of potatoes, which just sort of hung out in my body all day, being potatoes, which is to say, lazy and slow and solid. I kind of wanted to mash the potatoes, mash them out of their solid, slow, boring existence. But that breaks one of the Really Spiritual Regarded Rules, which I already mentioned but bears repeating: "Wherever we are in the process is where we are meant to be." I guess I have decided this includes potatoes. Anyway. So feeling really determined to be spiritual and loving and accepting of my potato visitors, first I just held them in my hands and regarded them in their solid form, and I acknowledged them inside of my body, and opened up the possibility of mashed or hashed or pureed potatoes, but didn't force it on them, because I figure the potatoes know better than I about what form they'd like to take. Eventually, they kind of floated through my energy field (hah, field) (did you get it?) and I think one or two potatoes are still left in my belly, just lumpy and not wanting to move, but I am making peace with them, which is to say, I am not charging after them with my masher and bared teeth. Isn't this what life is all about? Learning to relax our mouths, let go of our anger and obsession, and every so gently, like we are walking away from the edge, put the masher down?