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Have you ever felt like you're racing against the clock, constantly chasing appointments and deadlines? This relentless pursuit of time is a universal experience, but what is time, really? Is it a physical phenomenon or just a tool we use to coordinate our lives? Time is often seen as an independent, physical entity that ticks by relentlessly, but emerging scientific evidence suggests that this isn't the case. Time is more like a mathematical tool, useful for coordinating our interactions, but it doesn't have an independent existence of its own. Just like money, we've become dependent on it, but it's not a physical reality. The pressure to be 'on time' is instilled in us from a young age, and we're constantly surrounded by clocks and digital alerts that divide our day into smaller pieces. This has led to a phenomenon known as 'time famine,' where the more efficient and productive we try to be, the less time we feel we have. Studies have shown that people experiencing time famine are less likely to engage in activities they enjoy, eat healthily, or seek medical attention when needed. Our brains don't have dedicated areas for tracking time, and our experience of it can vary greatly. Time can seem to drag or fly by, depending on our circumstances. For example, people with certain conditions, like akinetopsia, experience time in sudden jumps or frozen moments. The psychedelic drug mescaline can also distort time perception, making it seem like hours or even centuries have passed. Quantum physicists have found that time is not a fixed, physical flow. The famous double-slit experiment shows that a physicist's choice of measurement can influence the behavior of a particle. In a lesser-known variant of this experiment, the physicist's choice at the point of measurement can even influence the particle's past behavior. This suggests that time is not a fixed, linear concept, but rather a flexible and subjective experience. Some indigenous cultures, like the Aymara people of Chile, experience time differently. They see the future as hidden behind them, unseeable and unknowable. The Amondawa people of the Amazon have no clocks or concept of time. Instead, they live in the present, experiencing 'lived time,' which is a personal, malleable experience of change. Lived time is different from clock time, as it's not defined by numerical counters or seconds. Each moment is like a tapestry, woven from changes on multiple timescales. When we focus on lived time, it expands and becomes richer, rather than narrowing or contracting. It's a flow that carries us and connects us with others, rather than something we chase and never catch. To combat time famine, we need to remind ourselves that the clock is a tool, not a master. We should beware of digital alerts and alarms that divide our day into smaller pieces and instead focus on the rich pattern of changing connections that wire us into each moment. By doing so, we can tap into the creative process of lived time and experience a more fulfilling and connected life.

The USAID agency was a primary financial backer of Liberia's eco-guards, who help protect species from poaching and trafficking. The eco-guards, all of whom live in forest communities, patrol for signs of illegal activity and share their findings with rangers from nearby parks and forests.In late January 2025, the SCNL learned that USAID, the eco-guards' primary financial backer, was being dismantled by the Trump administration and that funding had been abruptly suspended. The SCNL programme manager, Michael E Taire, a Liberian who lives in the capital, Monrovia, spent several days travelling over rough forest roads to break the news to the eco-guards, who were shocked and distraught.Conservation organisations large and small lost tens of millions of dollars, forcing some to function with a fraction of the resources they had expected and others to shut down programmes entirely. Efforts to address the root causes of wildlife trafficking across the globe were axed, as was USAID's forest-protection programme in the Congo basin of central Africa, one of the agency's largest and most enduring endeavours.David Kaimowitz, a longtime advocate of community-led conservation in the Amazon basin and Central America, puts it bluntly: 'We’re talking about an end to a whole era of conservation.'Diane Russell, an American anthropologist who has worked for USAID in the Congo basin since the 1980s, says the agency helped draw international attention and funding to the region’s remarkably rich remaining forests, which are home to mountain gorillas and forest elephants. It also enabled conservation to continue through extraordinarily difficult conditions.'The callous glee with which [the Trump] administration choked off aid is something I will never forgive or forget,' Kevin Starr writes.'We cannot replace USAID, but we can do big things, because we, the locals, were the engine behind what USAID was doing in this region,' Dida Fayo says.