Perhaps our disconnect is that to me, knowing something and believeing something are exactly the same thing - neurologically anyway.
To me ‘knowing’ and ‘believeing’ are more like expressions of certainty.
I frequently lose my glasses. I know right, when did glasses become a thing in my life…? Getting old sucks. Anyway. Right now, my netflix-watching glasses are sitting on the table in plain view, next to my coffee cup. I just prodded them with my finger. They’re real alright.
I’m gonna go out on a limb. I’m gonna say “I know my glasses are on the table.”
Now, I’ve tossed a cloth over them, can’t see them directly, but I can see the hump.
“I still know my glasses are on the table.” Now, I left the room, and told kid#1 to go in, and flip a coin, and if it’s heads, they have to steal my glasses, and bunch up the cloth a bit to make it look the same. Now my kid is coming out. I look at their hands, they’re empty. I fix them with my best dad-stare. “Did you steal my glasses…?” They say no. My dad-radar shows a green light. However, my kids, having my some of my genes, are horribly perfidious.
I’m about 60-75% sure my glasses are still on the table. But do I know…?
Nope, now I just believe they are on the table.
But I’m pretty sure that this didn’t involve a whole different part of my brain, when I switched from knowing to believeing.
Now imagine I reverse this experiment. Glasses initially not on the table, and I know that. My kid has them. They go in. They come out, they look like they just stuck something in the back of their pants.
Now I believe my glasses are not on the table. A negative belief.
Just then I hear the blender click on and a horrible whirring, crunching, glasses-destroying sound. Perfidious kid#1 passed my glasses off to even more perfidious kid#2, who just played “does it blend” with my glasses.
I now believe my glasses don’t exist.
I rush into the kitchen. And look in the blender. It’s full of whizzed-up shards of uncooked pasta. Evil kid#2 hands me my glasses. All smiles. I pat them on the head, though secretly I vow revenge next pocket money day. Oh yeah.