By Kim Larkin

As an artsy kid and a dreamer, I didn’t see the connection at the time, but even when I wasn’t looking for it, math was there in my life. It didn’t appear as equations, but rather as the unseen foundation underlying my fascination with finding patterns, asking why, imagining possibilities, and playing with time.
The first time I was intrigued by mathematical concepts, I was curled up with A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L’Engle’s sci-fi classic of ‘tessering’ through the fifth dimension of space-time. The book brought Einstein’s theory of relativity to life and introduced me to the idea that time isn’t fixed, but can curve, fold, and stretch like fabric. The blending of math and science with imagination and empathy captivated me.

Time in mathematics takes many forms, often of a contradictory nature. This complexity is also found in our human experience. Time is personal, cultural, and physiological, deeply connected to perception and meaning. We don’t sense time like light or sound; the brain constructs it from memory, attention, and emotion. The hippocampus stitches experiences into sequences, while circadian rhythms anchor us to daily cycles. Fear or boredom can stretch time; joy and focus can compress it. Taking one slow, deep breath can steady the heart and help us ground ourselves in the present.
At its most basic, time is linear, moving in a straight line. This is reflected in Western contexts, which are typically future-focused and clock-bound, imbued with urgency and precision. Time is experienced as uneven, irreversible, and constantly flowing forward.
This view contrasts with many other global perspectives, where time, where relationships to time are more expansive and interconnected. In some cultures, time is fluid and event-driven; in others, presence and community take precedence over the clock. Numerous Indigenous knowledge systems, including those of Pueblo peoples where I live, understand time as cyclical and relational, woven into land, kinship, and continuity. Actions ripple outward, and the past, present, and future can co-exist. Influential Afrofuturists such as Octavia Butler, Tricia Hersey, and adrienne maree brown articulate time as a construct that can be reimagined as a site of freedom, rest, and collective possibility. These myriad ways of relating to time remind us that time is not only personal but also tied to responsibility, environment, and one another.
In my work as an experiential futurist, mathematical thinking is a practical tool for examining potential and probability, helping people and organizations understand where they are, envision what might lie ahead, and take action. I don’t usually call it math, yet mathematical thinking is the unspoken foundation of the framework I use to guide groups through complexity and toward flourishing futures with design, foresight, and creativity.
In one strategic futures workshop with a nonprofit leadership team, we synthesized and laid out sticky notes representing their priorities on large paper. As they mapped which actions to take first, which could run in parallel, and which depended on other choices, a branching roadmap emerged. They weren’t doing equations, but they were synthesizing, sequencing, weighing probabilities, and imagining possibilities in real time. By the end, the team saw how a single decision could radiate outward and impact multiple outcomes. What had felt overwhelming became a shared, actionable strategy.

Futures thinking is a powerful lens in my personal life as well. I think of time as overlapping spheres of remembering, imagining, and acting, constantly interacting and transforming. The past encodes lessons and patterns. Looking back reveals what repeats, what resists change, and what might shape tomorrow.
In quantum physics, the future is a probability field. Time may not even exist until the moment of decision, when a wave of possibilities collapses into action. It is a cloud of potential outcomes, shaped by imagination, choice, and action, where even small shifts can tip systems. Futures thinking helps us map possibilities and weigh options.

The present is the point of emergence, where insights turn into action. Each decision we make sets change in motion, forming personal pathways and collective futures. Anchoring in the present links past patterns with future possibilities, asking “What is transforming and how will we respond?”
Futures thinking shifts our frame of time, activating adaptability, creativity, and agency. It asks us to align choices with values, stay flexible, and approach the unknown with hopefulness and collaboration, actively participating in what comes next.
Putting these ideas into practice can take the form of small steps, ongoing learning, and collaboration built on shared resources, lived expertise, and human wisdom. Pausing to reflect on the past, noticing the present, or imagining possibilities opens space to shape the future. Giving your insights a voice by writing them down and speaking them aloud amplifies the effect.
I recently reread my dog-eared copy of A Wrinkle in Time. Now I see clearly how time and mathematics are integral to human experience. Time isn’t a straight line, and none of us is a passive traveler. We are pattern-finders, storytellers, and dreamers of possibility. Math offers a hidden framework, helping us learn from the past, act in the present, and co-create the future. That, I think, is the most human equation of all.

Kim Larkin is an experiential futurist and strategist who partners with socially conscious organizations to prepare for possibilities and navigate change. Founder and Principal of MXD Arts [https://www.mxdarts.com/], her background spans business ownership, nonprofit leadership, and collaborations from grassroots startups to Fortune 100 companies. She specializes in cross-disciplinary collaboration to co-create insights and strategies that shape hopeful futures and lasting change. Connect with Kim on LinkedIn [https://www.linkedin.com/in/kimlarkinfutures/]