Memory
Memory is the ability to acquire, store, and retrieve information. It can be classified into:
Implicit memory, which operates unconsciously and includes procedural skills such as riding a bicycle.
Explicit memory, which involves the conscious recall of facts and knowledge (semantic memory) and personal experiences lived by the individual, including details about time, place, and emotional context, such as remembering a significant trip (episodic memory).
Additionally, memory is categorized based on its duration:
Sensory memory, which briefly retains sensory stimuli; short-term memory, which holds a limited amount of information for a short period; and long-term memory, which stores information for extended periods.
Working memory is a specific type of short-term memory responsible not only for temporarily storing information but also for actively manipulating it to perform complex cognitive tasks, such as problem-solving and decision-making.
Whenever a memory is retrieved, it is not simply recovered from a fixed archive but rather reconstructed, making it susceptible to modifications, additions, and distortions before being stored again—a phenomenon known as memory reconsolidation.
Semantic memory is the ability to store general knowledge about the world, such as the meaning of words, scientific and mathematical concepts, and historical facts, without necessarily remembering when and where we acquired them.
These concepts are organized into semantic networks, where the activation of one piece of information facilitates access to related ones.
For example, if someone asks you to list as many animal names as possible, you are likely to use an organized strategy, such as first recalling domestic animals, then farm animals, and then wild animals, following different habitats.
This process reflects how concepts are interconnected in memory, functioning as a structured system, similar to shelves in a library, where information is grouped by topic and accessed efficiently.
It is like pulling a thread from a ball of yarn—once you capture the first piece of information, other associated pieces follow one after another.
Now I will describe what it is like when I try to remember a word and it feels close to being retrieved. What was the name of that actress again...? The one who was in that movie...
Description
When I try to recall a piece of information, such as someone's name, I sometimes have a clear feeling that the answer is available to me.
I tell myself, "I know! Wait a moment!", but at the same time, it seems hidden.
In some way, it is already present in my mind but remains inaccessible, as if it were hovering around my consciousness without me being able to see or hear it clearly.
There is an effort on my part to retrieve it, but the process resembles fishing more than a direct search: I cannot simply try to grab it by force—if I do, it slips away; I need to wait for it to "take the bait."
To facilitate this retrieval, I start mentally throwing out syllables (Ba, Be, Bi, Bo, Bu, Ca, Ce...) or muttering words with sounds similar to what I imagine the correct name to be (this inner speech is described here; I can also use visual imagination).
I also try to surround this missing information with other associated clues.
Sometimes, I feel like I am very close to the correct answer; other times, I am completely mistaken about that proximity.
In both cases, however, I may feel that I am on the right track (even if, in some cases, I am not). I keep testing possibilities until, suddenly, the name emerges with an immediate sense of recognition—as if, upon finding it, everything fits together perfectly.
This moment of confirmation is, most of the time, accurate, but if there is any doubt, I seek external validation—by asking someone or looking up the information online.
During this process, I notice that my body also takes part in the search. My head subtly pauses its movements, as if my entire body enters a state of stillness to facilitate recall.
My gaze sometimes appears lost; other times, it shifts from side to side, as if trying to "scan" the information internally with my eyes.
My breathing becomes more focused and gentle, almost as if I were holding my breath to create a more receptive mental space.
However, if the answer does not come quickly, a sense of restlessness and discomfort begins to emerge, and I start moving—gesturing, whispering, or even speaking normally—trying to find new strategies to reach my goal.
In these moments, I realize that I need to regain composure—become still again, refocus on the clues, and simply wait.
It feels as if the information comes from the back of my head to the front, or from deep in my throat up to my mouth, until it reaches a point where I can finally see or hear it clearly and, at last, verbalize it.
Curiously, there are moments when I give up and move on, only for the information to spontaneously emerge later—when I am no longer thinking about it—like a eureka moment:
A feeling of certainty that I have found what I was looking for, accompanied by a slight lifting of the head, a quick inhalation, a raising of the eyebrows, sometimes even a slight smile, and a brief sense of joy.
It is a sudden resolution, requiring no effort at that moment, though effort had been made before. It is as if my mind continues working silently in the background until the answer is ready to surface.
When I finally manage to retrieve the information, I first experience this eureka sensation, followed by a sense of relief, as not remembering causes discomfort, irritation, and other negative feelings.
Example: I remember a time when I was trying to recall the name of an old actor, and it felt like the name was on the tip of my tongue. I started feeding myself words that sounded similar — they had a familiar ring to them, close to his name. However, the actual name only came to me while I was asleep. I suddenly woke up, said the name out loud, and then wrote it down.
Sometimes, we partially outsource the process of remembering by offering certain cues or fragments of the memory, expecting others to help us reconstruct it.
When we say something like 'that actress who was in that movie, her name sounded like something...', we are not only trying to recall, but also inviting the other person to become a co-author of the recollection.
To facilitate memorization, I have been using a method based on puns (which can also be evoked as visual images) or associations with other names or combinations of names of well-known people already established in my memory. This technique serves as a support for information retrieval.
When I try to recall a name, I think about the person and try to fill my mind with clues about them—for example, if they are an actor or actress, I recall their face, the movies they starred in, and any relevant details.
Interestingly, in these cases, the pun I created usually emerges first, even before the name appears clearly in my mind. The opposite also happens: sometimes, the name comes first, and then I remember the pun I associated with it.
I take a few seconds to come up with the pun, but this greatly facilitates information retrieval while also exercising creativity. Over time, using this strategy becomes easier and more automatic.
Comments
Post a Comment