It has been said by someone far wiser than me, that immanence belongs to reality, and ideality to thought.

Yet strangely, if we attempt to uproot a thought, almost everything comes with it.

A place we find ourselves in.A body.A yesterday and the memories.Someone deeply loved and lost.The blueness of sky.Or a billowing tree.

Even the thought ‘tree’ seems to carry a little of the cool earth tangled amongst the depth of its roots.

Perhaps thought is not quite as separate from the world as we like to imagine.Not quite as separate as we are told.

Perhaps even our most abstract thought still has the honour of earthly mud on its roots.