![](http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7410/2299/200/jpg.59.jpg)
In coping with the myriad things that come our way at every moment of our waking life, we try to organize them into manageable structures. We do this by sorting them into groups--categorizing them as "rocks," "trees," "insects," "birds," "cows," "telephone poles," "mountains," and countless other kinds, and describing them in terms of their properties and features, as "large" or "small," "tall" or "short," "red" or "yellow," "slow" or "swift," and so on. A distinction that we almost instinctively, though usually unconsciously, apply to just about everything that we come across is whether or not it is a
living thing (it might be a dead bird, but still we know it is the kind of thing that lives, unlike a rock or a pewter vase, which couldn't be "dead"). There are exceptions, of course, but it is unusual for us to know
what something is without at the same time knowing, or having some ideas about, whether or not it is a living creature. Another example: when we know a person, we almost always know whether the person is male or female.
The same is true of the distinction between things or creatures with a "mind," or "mentality," and those without a mind. This is probably one of the most basic contrasts we use in our thoughts about things in the world.