Some Math

According to most estimates, the universe is approximately 13.8 billion years old.

The earth is around 4.5 billion years old.

The earth is expected to last another 5 to 5.5 billion years until the sun burns out.

So the total lifespan of the earth should be around 10 billion years.

In our current evolutionary form and brain shape, humans have existed for approximately 60,000 years.

That means human beings have existed for 0.00133% of the earth’s lifespan so far.

And it means human beings have existed for 0.00043% of the universe’s lifespan so far. 

Let’s be optimistic and assume we manage to avoid extinction level events like global nuclear warfare, climate change resulting in a global destruction event, a virus or bioweapon that wipes out the population or being destroyed by artificial intelligence (or combined with them through symbiosis). 

And let’s say that because of our ingenuity and luck, we last another million years.¹

That means that humanity will have existed for 0.022% of the earth’s total lifespan (once the sun goes down for good) and 0.0072% of the universe’s lifespan to that point. 

That’s not even a rounding error. It’s barely a footnote. Humans aren’t even going to be one tenth of one percent of the earth’s history. And we’re just one species of millions — some scientists say billions or possibly even over a trillion — that exist. 

Globally, the average human lifespan is 73.5 years. But let’s again be generous and call it 100 years.

That means that a human who manages to live an entire century will have existed for 0.0000072% of the earth’s total lifespan and, at the point where the earth no longer exists, 0.00000052% of the universe’s total lifespan to that point. That’s six zeroes after the decimal. And the number before it is zero too. 

In other words, our lives — at best — represent 0.00000052% of the totality of the universe.

And even right now, there are 8.2 billion people on the globe (it’ll be close to ten billion by 2050). So each one of us represents 0.000000012% of the total population. That’s just right now. And just one planet. In one galaxy. 

The point of all of this is to say that we only exist, at best, for a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction (and you can keep going — I got tired of writing fraction) of totality. We don’t know what happens before we’re born. We don’t know what happens after we die. I assume the answer to both is nothing. 

So given that, we can only do the best we can. We can only speak for ourselves, control ourselves. We can only make the choices that we think are right and that we think will bring us happiness, peace and contentment. 

We cannot control everyone else and while extending ourselves to others is usually the very thing that brings us happiness, peace and contentment, there’s also no prize for whoever worries or suffers the most.² 

So yes, the world feels really bad right now. There’s a lot to be upset about. There’s a lot of scary stuff happening. And yes, do whatever you can to help. We all should. 

But keep in mind, we are pretty insignificant when it all comes down to it. Our individual lives, even if we make it to 100, represent 0.0000052% of the totality of the universe by the time the sun burns out. 

So take it all — all the conflict, all the hand wringing, all the neverending, existential angst — with a grain of salt. Do the best you can to make things better. That’s the best way to make the most of the time we do have. 

But that time is very limited and very insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So take it easy on yourself too. 

1. Nothing that anyone does today will likely be remembered in even a thousand years (which is just one tenth of one percent of the rest of humanity in this timeframe)

2. And the people I know who compete for this don’t qualify for even the bottom 5 or 6 billion of those across the globe who actually suffer.