The centipede was quite happy, until a fun toad said-

The centipede was quite happy,
Until a fun toad said-
“Pray, which leg goes after which?”
This worked his mind to such a pitch,
He lay distracted in a ditch,
Wondering how to talk.

-Alan Watts

The centipede was quite happy, Until a fun toad said- "Pray, which leg goes after which?" This worked his mind to such a pitch, He lay distracted in a ditch, Wondering how to talk. — The centipede was quite happy, Until a fun toad said- “Pray, which leg goes after which?” This worked his mind to such a pitch, He lay distracted in a ditch, Wondering how to talk.

A famous little parable-poem that floats around in many versions. It’s often called The Centipede’s Dilemma. The gist: the centipede walked just fine until a curious toad asked which leg moved after which. Suddenly, self-consciousness sabotaged what had been effortless.

It’s a neat allegory about overthinking—when you start analyzing a natural, automatic process, the very act of focusing on it can paralyze you. This applies everywhere: a musician suddenly freezing mid-performance when they start thinking about finger placement, or a speaker stumbling because they’ve become hyper-aware of breathing. Psychologists even coined the term centipede’s dilemma for this.

There’s also a sly warning tucked in there: not every question that can be asked is worth chasing down in the moment. Sometimes curiosity illuminates; sometimes it gums up the gears.