How does the brain actually work?

I’ve been chewing on this idea for a while now, but it finally crossed my mind again today and I just felt compelled to get it down on paper. It might seem like nothing to most people, but I find it absolutely fascinating...
Of course, I realize the human brain is an incredibly passionate and still largely enigmatic organ, but purely
from a philosophical standpoint, I wanted to pose this question. We are all more or less familiar with the widely accepted theory regarding the brain as a complex web of interconnected information where impulses travel through pathways, and forgetting occurs when those connections weaken... and so on.
Now, consider when someone asks us a direct question—for instance, what is the capital of the United States (Washington, D.C.)? That falls under declarative memory; we either possess that fact or we don't. In this specific case, we would all answer "Washington, D.C." (bravo!), assuming we aren't simply experiencing a momentary lapse in retrieval. The cognitive process involved would essentially be a search through our neural architecture to locate that data point and pull it into working memory to provide the answer. In this scenario, the brain's job is made significantly easier because the data exists and can easily find its way to the surface. So far, there's no ambiguity there. However, if the question were, say, "What is the capital of the White Coast?" (and let's assume I have no idea what that is), what exactly does the brain have to do to arrive at the response "I don't know"? How does one search for something that simply isn't there??? We wouldn't be able to categorically state "I don't know" until the brain has scanned the entire memory bank—which some studies suggest is virtually limitless—unless the brain actually knows exactly where that non-existent data *should* be located, realizes it's missing, and then stops. Just try to visualize that: we are searching through an infinite memory, and if we don't find it, we conclude that we don't know. Furthermore, why does searching through this perceived infinity take roughly the same amount of time as searching for something finite that we know how to find? To clarify, it takes us about the same amount of time to answer "Washington, D.C." as it does to answer "I don't know." To me, that fact serves as further evidence for the theory that the brain knows precisely where the information ought to be, even if it isn't there, thereby reducing the search to a finite task.
Call me crazy if you want, but I truly don't care.

I guess nobody would even call you crazy because this all actually makes sense, though I honestly have no idea how to jump in on this discussion. Still, the topic seems pretty interesting 🙂...

The questions are just too complicated. Maybe part of the issue is that we've spent decades treating the human brain like a computer, assuming it processes information the same way. But at the end of the day, using a computer as a model for the brain is just that—a model, and it's got its limits.

Look, I’m definitely no expert here, but I’ve got a theory...
It all comes down to whether that info is sitting in your short-term or long-term memory. My take? If it's tucked away in your long-term storage, your brain just spits it out instantly. But if it’s still floating around in short-term memory, you haven't quite "locked it in" yet, so you have to pause and actually think about it a bit.
As for that feeling of "not knowing" something—it actually ties right back to what I just said. If you're missing something that lives in your long-term memory, you’ll realize it immediately because you *know* you don't know it. But when it's stuck in that short-term loop, you're left scratching your head, thinking, "I know it's in there somewhere, but I can't grab it!"
Of course, I'm totally oversimplifying things here; the only time I ever really dug into this kind of stuff was back during my psych classes in college.😁
Personally, I find creative thinking way more fascinating! Like, how does that even work? What kind of wild combo of impulses is firing off inside your skull? Man, the human brain is just incredible.😍

Hannah Moore8 said:I’ve been chewing on this idea for a while now, but it finally crossed my mind again today and I just felt compelled to get it down on paper. It might seem like nothing to most people, but I find it absolutely fascinating...
Of course, I realize the human brain is an incredibly passionate and still largely enigmatic organ, but purely
from a philosophical standpoint, I wanted to pose this question. We are all more or less familiar with the widely accepted theory regarding the brain as a complex web of interconnected information where impulses travel through pathways, and forgetting occurs when those connections weaken... and so on.
Now, consider when someone asks us a direct question—for instance, what is the capital of the United States (Washington, D.C.)? That falls under declarative memory; we either possess that fact or we don't. In this specific case, we would all answer "Washington, D.C." (bravo!), assuming we aren't simply experiencing a momentary lapse in retrieval. The cognitive process involved would essentially be a search through our neural architecture to locate that data point and pull it into working memory to provide the answer. In this scenario, the brain's job is made significantly easier because the data exists and can easily find its way to the surface. So far, there's no ambiguity there. However, if the question were, say, "What is the capital of the White Coast?" (and let's assume I have no idea what that is), what exactly does the brain have to do to arrive at the response "I don't know"? How does one search for something that simply isn't there??? We wouldn't be able to categorically state "I don't know" until the brain has scanned the entire memory bank—which some studies suggest is virtually limitless—unless the brain actually knows exactly where that non-existent data *should* be located, realizes it's missing, and then stops. Just try to visualize that: we are searching through an infinite memory, and if we don't find it, we conclude that we don't know. Furthermore, why does searching through this perceived infinity take roughly the same amount of time as searching for something finite that we know how to find? To clarify, it takes us about the same amount of time to answer "Washington, D.C." as it does to answer "I don't know." To me, that fact serves as further evidence for the theory that the brain knows precisely where the information ought to be, even if it isn't there, thereby reducing the search to a finite task.
Call me crazy if you want, but I truly don't care.

That is such a killer question! From what I can tell, it’s all learned behavior. The brain acts like a total pattern recognition program, right? When you feed it a prompt, it goes hunting for information that matches that input. If it hits a dead end, it just triggers another learned response—which is basically saying "I don't know" when it can't find the answer.

How does it work so fast, though? I honestly feel like that little thought telling you to "say it" is sitting super close to the actual memory. That's why some people just blurt out "I don't know" instantly, while others take a second to think, and some poor souls spend the whole day stuck on it because they can't stop trying to remember...

It all comes down to how well-connected everything is. 😉

I suspect the answer lies in the assumption that memory isn't just some fixed, specific coordinate in the brain—not like a file stored on a hard drive in a computer. Instead, it’s more like a massive, intricate web of different neural regions all working in sync to facilitate complex functions like remembering.

Furthermore, we have to distinguish between short-term and long-term memory. Long-term memory does not occur unless protein synthesis takes place in the brain. Protein synthesis can now be measured using brain-imaging technology. In this context, long-term semantic memory—essentially our store of knowledge—is a system that requires reactivation through specific stimuli.

What the OP is describing is essentially a "blockage," a breakdown in the retrieval process. But we also have to face the fact that if we don't actively use (repeat) what we've learned, that knowledge simply becomes inaccessible... much like how it has to be properly "filed away," or truly mastered, in the first place.

The brain just doesn't function like a computer. Period. It’s completely illogical. The way it reaches an answer is more like quantum uncertainty than any kind of classical logic you'd find in a textbook. Depending on the context or the situation, the brain can take a million different paths just to land on the exact same conclusion. And don't even get me started on memory. Long-term and short-term distinctions become totally irrelevant when you run into someone who remembers absolutely everything, or someone who—despite having a perfectly healthy brain—can't connect two simple dots.
I think there was a killer article on this in National Geographic a year or two back.

Questions like "what is the capital of the White Coast" are actually pretty straightforward for the brain to process. If someone is hearing about the White Coast for the very first time... it’s instantly obvious they wouldn't know the capital. On the other hand, if you already know the capital, that city's name is already mentally linked to the country itself—so the question basically just triggers that existing association to pull up the answer. And if you know the country exists but haven't ever made that connection to its capital? Well, then you know right away that you don't know.

I don't really see any deep mystery behind a question like that, though maybe I'm missing the point here 🤷

ps: I think Olivia Evans8 has a valid point too. A lot of the time, what we're seeing is just learned behavior—people often tell themselves they don't know something, but once you give them the answer, they realize they actually did! 😁

Edward Flores4 said:Questions like "what is the capital of the White Coast" are actually pretty straightforward for the brain to process. If someone is hearing about the White Coast for the very first time... it’s instantly obvious they wouldn't know the capital. On the other hand, if you already know the capital, that city's name is already mentally linked to the country itself—so the question basically just triggers that existing association to pull up the answer. And if you know the country exists but haven't ever made that connection to its capital? Well, then you know right away that you don't know.

I don't really see any deep mystery behind a question like that, though maybe I'm missing the point here 🤷

ps: I think Olivia Evans8 has a valid point too. A lot of the time, what we're seeing is just learned behavior—people often tell themselves they don't know something, but once you give them the answer, they realize they actually did! 😁

I agree with much of this, but I simply cannot stomach that particular point. I happen to know exactly what e^(i+Pi) equals, yet there are many times when I struggle to calculate -1+2...

There are so many different ways our brains process information. Math is such a unique mechanism—honestly, I’ve always felt that addition and subtraction are actually more taxing than multiplication and division. We tend to handle the latter almost subconsciously, just through pure intuition, whereas we usually have to visualize the former or eventually just commit them to memory through sheer repetition.

At the end of the day, mathematical problems and verbal ones are solved using completely different mental pathways... which explains why that "insurmountable" gap exists in the first place. 😉

The mind thinks—using its own damn head. 😁

Hannah Moore8 said:I’ve been chewing on this idea for a while now, but it finally crossed my mind again today and I just felt compelled to get it down on paper. It might seem like nothing to most people, but I find it absolutely fascinating...
Of course, I realize the human brain is an incredibly passionate and still largely enigmatic organ, but purely
from a philosophical standpoint, I wanted to pose this question. We are all more or less familiar with the widely accepted theory regarding the brain as a complex web of interconnected information where impulses travel through pathways, and forgetting occurs when those connections weaken... and so on.
Now, consider when someone asks us a direct question—for instance, what is the capital of the United States (Washington, D.C.)? That falls under declarative memory; we either possess that fact or we don't. In this specific case, we would all answer "Washington, D.C." (bravo!), assuming we aren't simply experiencing a momentary lapse in retrieval. The cognitive process involved would essentially be a search through our neural architecture to locate that data point and pull it into working memory to provide the answer. In this scenario, the brain's job is made significantly easier because the data exists and can easily find its way to the surface. So far, there's no ambiguity there. However, if the question were, say, "What is the capital of the White Coast?" (and let's assume I have no idea what that is), what exactly does the brain have to do to arrive at the response "I don't know"? How does one search for something that simply isn't there??? We wouldn't be able to categorically state "I don't know" until the brain has scanned the entire memory bank—which some studies suggest is virtually limitless—unless the brain actually knows exactly where that non-existent data *should* be located, realizes it's missing, and then stops. Just try to visualize that: we are searching through an infinite memory, and if we don't find it, we conclude that we don't know. Furthermore, why does searching through this perceived infinity take roughly the same amount of time as searching for something finite that we know how to find? To clarify, it takes us about the same amount of time to answer "Washington, D.C." as it does to answer "I don't know." To me, that fact serves as further evidence for the theory that the brain knows precisely where the information ought to be, even if it isn't there, thereby reducing the search to a finite task.
Call me crazy if you want, but I truly don't care.

The thing is, the brain doesn't function like a computer that scans its whole hard drive just to report a file is missing. Simply put, the brain follows connections and associations to lead you to the right info. If those links aren't there, we conclude we don't know.

Bryan Jones82 said:The thing is, the brain doesn't function like a computer that scans its whole hard drive just to report a file is missing. Simply put, the brain follows connections and associations to lead you to the right info. If those links aren't there, we conclude we don't know.

But how does it even decide when to stop looking? 😍

Olivia Evans8 said:But how does it even decide when to stop looking? 😍

When he's had enough, and other priorities take over.🤷

It’s actually quite fascinating how the brain stays active even while sleeping. If you spend all night cramming for a midterm at Yale, you'll likely spend your dreams processing that exact nonsense... the mind just keeps working through it.
There’s a reason people say "sleep on it." After hours of subconscious processing, the brain often reaches conclusions by morning that seemed impossible the day before.
The human brain is an incredible thing... especially when paired with a good breakfast!👍

Hannah Moore8 said:I’ve been chewing on this idea for a while now, but it finally crossed my mind again today and I just felt compelled to get it down on paper. It might seem like nothing to most people, but I find it absolutely fascinating...
Of course, I realize the human brain is an incredibly passionate and still largely enigmatic organ, but purely
from a philosophical standpoint, I wanted to pose this question. We are all more or less familiar with the widely accepted theory regarding the brain as a complex web of interconnected information where impulses travel through pathways, and forgetting occurs when those connections weaken... and so on.
Now, consider when someone asks us a direct question—for instance, what is the capital of the United States (Washington, D.C.)? That falls under declarative memory; we either possess that fact or we don't. In this specific case, we would all answer "Washington, D.C." (bravo!), assuming we aren't simply experiencing a momentary lapse in retrieval. The cognitive process involved would essentially be a search through our neural architecture to locate that data point and pull it into working memory to provide the answer. In this scenario, the brain's job is made significantly easier because the data exists and can easily find its way to the surface. So far, there's no ambiguity there. However, if the question were, say, "What is the capital of the White Coast?" (and let's assume I have no idea what that is), what exactly does the brain have to do to arrive at the response "I don't know"? How does one search for something that simply isn't there??? We wouldn't be able to categorically state "I don't know" until the brain has scanned the entire memory bank—which some studies suggest is virtually limitless—unless the brain actually knows exactly where that non-existent data *should* be located, realizes it's missing, and then stops. Just try to visualize that: we are searching through an infinite memory, and if we don't find it, we conclude that we don't know. Furthermore, why does searching through this perceived infinity take roughly the same amount of time as searching for something finite that we know how to find? To clarify, it takes us about the same amount of time to answer "Washington, D.C." as it does to answer "I don't know." To me, that fact serves as further evidence for the theory that the brain knows precisely where the information ought to be, even if it isn't there, thereby reducing the search to a finite task.
Call me crazy if you want, but I truly don't care.

Look, neither a computer nor the human brain works by just stuffing info into a sack. Information is structured; it’s all about hierarchical and associative connections. Any programmer worth their salt knows about tree structures—binary, symmetric, asymmetric, you name it.
To keep it simple, think of it like a folder system on your laptop. You find what you need (or don't) pretty fast because of that organization.
If everything was just tossed into a pile without any order, searching would be a total nightmare. Impossible, really.

That structure where information settles is what actually creates KNOWLEDGE! It’s dynamic, always making new links and associations.

For example, if you're looking for cities, you aren't out there searching through elephants or scales. You go under the "cities" category. The White Coast is in Africa. So you narrow it down to African cities. How many African cities do you actually know? See? It's not infinite.

I find myself in agreement with fadedgardener15, though I think it might be helpful if I offered my own perspective by using the internet as a sort of proxy, since isn't that just another type of network itself?

When you decide to visit a specific website, you aren't just instantly there; instead, you travel through a series of steps, a sequence of routing, to eventually reach your destination.

The hierarchy within a network of routers functions quite differently than a standard directory hierarchy because it offers much more flexibility, allowing for a scenario where if one router fails, another can step up and take over its responsibilities.

If I may attempt to draw a few analogies to illustrate this...

1. A webpage is offline - which means the information simply isn't available to you.
2. The webpage is perfectly fine and online, but you’re having connection issues—perhaps with your routers or your ISP—so you lose patience and assume the page won't load.- In this case, you actually know the information exists, but you claim you don't.

3. Someone from AT&T shows up at your house and physically cuts your lines.- You know the info is there, but you lack the physical capacity to retrieve it, almost like dealing with senility or perhaps Parkinson's.

And then there is this bit regarding New York City:
4. You have a fixed, unchanging webpage that you visit constantly, and it stays stored in your computer's cache or browser memory—that would be New York City.🙂

P.S.
I should probably elaborate a little further on that second analogy.
Essentially, when you try to access a certain webpage—which represents a piece of data in your brain—you are navigating through several routers. If one of those routers goes down, you lose your path to the site and conclude that you don't know the information. However, if you keep trying, if you keep pushing through the frustration, it's entirely possible that you might find another router—an association, perhaps—that picks up the slack left by the broken connection, allowing you to reach that data via a different, albeit longer, route.

The human brain is honestly such a fascinating, bizarre organ... It trips me up constantly because there are moments when it just completely hits a wall on the simplest tasks, leaving me totally stunned. I’ll never forget my very first college midterm: the professor asked a question, I knew the answer, I really did, but the mental block was so intense that I couldn't even remember my own name for a second... Luckily, the guy actually understood psychology, so he just dropped a few casual, calming sentences that snapped me back into a focused headspace, and somehow, I ended up crushing the exam.
Some people seem to have brains that function flawlessly under heavy pressure or high-stress scenarios, while for others, everything just... freezes. And it isn't even about whether you actually know the material or not; it's more like you simply can't detect or decode the information sitting right there, let alone articulate it coherently. It's obvious that your immediate emotional state plays a massive role in how things function, and that impact clearly varies from one person to the next... I suppose it dictates the entire trajectory and the speed at which the brain scans through its archived data.