Squeeze the planet's four-and-a-half billion years into one 24-hour day, starting at midnight. The scale is hard to feel any other way.
For most of the morning and afternoon, the only life is microbes. Complex animals do not appear until late evening, around nine o'clock. The dinosaurs arrive near eleven, and are gone by twenty minutes to midnight.
All of recorded human history, every empire, every name you have ever heard, fits into the final fraction of the last second before midnight. A blink at the very end of the day.
It can read as humbling or as freeing, depending on the mood you bring to it. Either way, it puts a useful frame around the worries that feel enormous when measured in a single human afternoon.