Where The Tail Goes First

Before thought, there is movement.
Before language, sensation.
Before the split, wholeness.

There’s a knowing that doesn’t ask.
Doesn’t explain. Doesn’t wait for permission.
It grips the gut, charges the spine, flickers through the skin.
It doesn’t ask to be understood. It demands to be lived.

It pulses, pounces, howls.
Laughs in the face of control.
Opens wide with no apology.

We were born fluent in it.
Born to tumble toward what feels good.
To chase light, to taste aliveness, to follow what sparks.

Then came the rules.
The conditioning.
The lie that freedom is dangerous and desire can’t be trusted.

And we forgot.
How to move.
How to sense.
How to follow what delights.

But instinct doesn’t forget.
It waits in the bones, smoldering beneath the silence.

Where the tail goes first, the body follows.
Where the body leads, the truth erupts.
And with it: the return.
Not just to self—
But to wonder. To hunger. To the sacred pulse of play.