10 Societies with Unconventional Concepts of Time

We like to think of time as an unshakable force, ticking away with military precision in measured increments. But here’s the thing—time, as we know it, is completely made up. Sure, the sun rises and sets and seasons change, but the rigid structure of seconds, minutes, and hours, really, is all a human invention, like money, office dress codes, and pineapple on pizza debates.

Not every society buys into the idea that time is a straight line marching endlessly forward. Across the world, cultures have created mind-bending approaches to time that would make your smartwatch self-destruct in confusion. Some see time as an ever-repeating cycle, some refuse to acknowledge a future or past at all, and others measure it in ways that make the standard 9-to-5 grind look positively barbaric. These cultures show that maybe time isn’t a rigid schedule but a fluid, fascinating concept that can be bent, stretched, or apparently even ignored entirely.

Related: 10 Bizarre Fears and Phobias Specific to One Culture

10 Australian Aboriginal Societies – Dreaming of Timelessness

An Australian Aboriginal concept of time, known as “The Dreaming,” makes our rigid past-present-future model look embarrassingly basic. While our translations from this culture are weak, basically, for Aboriginal Australians, time isn’t a straight line. It’s more like a giant, all-encompassing web where everything—past, present, and future—exists at once.

In this worldview, dubbed “everywhen,” ancestors didn’t just exist in the past; they still interact with the living. One could take from this view that you could be sitting under a tree, and that tree is simultaneously a person, a place, a spirit, and an event from a thousand years ago, all at once. Try explaining that to your Google Calendar.

This philosophy also extends to storytelling, law, and moral teachings. Rather than events occurring in a chronological sequence, stories from The Dreaming function as living lessons that apply in every moment. You don’t “remember” history—you live alongside it. If you’ve ever felt like time is an illusion, Aboriginal Australians might just nod and say, “Yeah, we’ve been saying that for 65,000 years.”^[1]

9 Hopi People – No Past? No Future? No Problem!

The Hopi people of Arizona have a language that takes the phrase “living in the moment” to a whole new level. In English, we rely on past, present, and future tenses to structure our conversations. Hopi don’t do that.

Instead of chopping time into neat little measurable boxes, the Hopi language distinguishes between things that are manifest (stuff that exists or has happened) and things that are unmanifest (things that haven’t happened yet). There are no words for minutes, hours, or days of the week. No past, no future—just an ongoing state of existence. It’s like the universe is one big “now,” and quite frankly, that sounds way more peaceful than worrying about deadlines.

This has profound implications for how the Hopi view reality. Because language shapes thought, their worldview is built around continuity rather than separation. Time isn’t something they anxiously count down; it simply is. So if you’ve ever tried meditating and failed after 30 seconds, the Hopi might just be on to something.^[2]

8 Maya Civilization – The Original Time Lords

If you think juggling your wall calendar, planner, and phone reminders is complicated, the Maya civilization might like a word. Instead of settling for just one way to measure time, they went all in with four: the Tzolk’in (a 260-day ritual calendar), the Haab’ (a 365-day solar calendar), the Calendar Round (an interlocking of the Tzolk’in and Haab’), and the Long Count (the big-picture system tracking thousands of years). Basically, they had a calendar for every occasion.

Unlike our relentless march into the unknown, the Maya saw time as a series of cosmic reruns—creation, destruction, repeat. The infamous “2012 Doomsday” panic was actually just one of these cycles ending—no asteroid, no firestorm, just a fresh new baktun (roughly 394 years, for those keeping score at home). Think of it as hitting refresh on your browser, but with more pyramids.

The Long Count calendar wasn’t just impressive—it was downright genius, mapping out time in intricate mathematical precision. And instead of dreading the end of an era, the Maya embraced the idea of constant renewal. So, while we panic over the passage of time, it could sometimes be worth reframing our perspectives from the Maya playbook and seeing time as less of a doomsday clock and more of an eternal remix.^[3]

7 The Baha’i Calendar – Timekeeping, but Make It Spiritual

If you’ve ever thought the 12-month calendar was a little uninspired, the Baha’i calendar is here to shake things up. Also called the Badí’ Calendar, it consists of 19 months with 19 days each, adding up to 361 days—plus a few extra “intercalary days” (Ayyám-i-Há) thrown in for good measure. These bonus days, used for charity and celebrations, make sure everything aligns neatly with the solar year.

Created by the Báb in the 19th century, this calendar ditches perhaps forgettable month names like “March” in favor of divine attributes like Splendor (Bahá’), Glory (Jalál), and Will (Masá’il)—which, honestly, sounds way more inspiring.

The new year (Naw-Rúz) kicks off on the Spring Equinox because what better time for a fresh start? Moreover, days begin at sunset, making the transition into tomorrow a smooth celestial fade-out. More than just a way to mark time, the Baha’i calendar is designed to sync life with nature, spirituality, and community. Maybe they’re onto something.^[4]

6 Jain Time – The Cosmic Carnival Ride You Didn’t Know You Were On

Jainism’s concept of time makes our calendar years look like blips on a radar. Instead of a straight line, time is an infinite cosmic loop, cycling through Utsarpini (when everything improves) and Avasarpini (when everything falls apart). Each phase lasts thousands of years—so yes, things will eventually get better, but don’t hold your breath.

Right now, we’re in the declining half of said wheel, which explains war, disease, and reality TV. But Jainism doesn’t dwell on doom—it emphasizes nonviolence, self-discipline, and detachment because, in a universe stuck on repeat, the best move is to break free and reach moksha (liberation). Why ride the Ferris wheel forever when you can take your shot at hopping off?^[5]

5 Balinese Pawukon Calendar – The Calendar That’s Doing the Most

Most calendars are content with a single, linear progression of days. Not the Balinese Pawukon. This system is an overachiever, juggling ten interwoven cycles at once, kind of like a cosmic-level Sudoku puzzle. Each cycle has a different length and significance, ranging from a simple one-day “week” (yes, really) to a ten-day one, all stacked like a particularly chaotic Jenga tower of time. The result is a 210-day system where multiple timeframes overlap, dictating everything from temple anniversaries to the best days for traditional ceremonies.

Unlike our conventional seven-day workweek, Pawukon time isn’t about marking the passage of days but about tracking spiritual and agricultural rhythms. Certain days are naturally more significant than others, guiding everything from ceremonial observances to daily rituals. While Balinese farmers and religious communities consult traditional calendars to align with these cycles, everyday life in Bali mostly runs on the Gregorian calendar—because even in a place with a ten-layered time system, sometimes you just need to, with certainty, catch a flight on the right day.^[6]

4 Igbo Market Week Time – Forget Mondays, Try a Four-Day Week

The Igbo people of Nigeria never signed up for the seven-day week nonsense. Instead, traditional Igbo time operates on a four-day market cycle. Everything—work, trade, and religious observances—revolves around the rhythm of the market days. It’s a society where “What day is it?” is best answered with “Which market today?” rather than checking a digital clock.

The four-day cycle consists of Eke, Oye, Afor, and Nkwo—each tied to specific trade and social functions. This shorter week means that economic and social life revolves around smaller, more frequent resets rather than long workweeks that leave everyone exhausted. Westerners who complain about Mondays might want to take notes.^[7]

3 Pirahã People – Living in the Now, Literally

The Pirahã of the Amazon don’t just prefer living in the present; their entire culture is built around it. Their language has no words for past or future, and they don’t use numbers or written records. Every experience exists only as long as someone remembers it. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. They don’t talk about what happened years ago, and they don’t plan for things years ahead. Their lives and language are centered around their immediate experience.

This is clearly a radical departure from how most cultures think about time. We’re obsessed with archiving, planning, and strategizing. The Pirahã, meanwhile, live purely in the moment. Their society has functioned this way for centuries, proving that you don’t need calendars, schedules, or historical records to get by just fine.^[8]

2 Trobriand Islanders – No Need for Clocks When You Have People

In the Trobriand Islands, time isn’t measured by numbers—it’s a lunar calendar measured by harvest, relationships, and rituals. Marriage, gardening, ceremonies—all of these create a sense of time, not fixed hours or minutes. Life moves at a pace dictated by community, not a ticking clock.

The Trobrianders’ approach sounds like paradise for anyone tired of rushing to keep up with schedules. They don’t break the day into measured increments; they move through it based on social interaction and the natural flow of activities. It’s a perfect example of how timekeeping is, at its core, a cultural choice rather than a universal truth.^[9]

1 Aymara – The Future Is Behind You

The Aymara of the Andes also see time differently than most cultures. The past is in front of them (because it’s known), and the future is behind them (because it’s unknown). Think about that: we always imagine moving forward into the future, but they see themselves backing into it.

In Aymara culture, gestures often accompany this worldview. When speaking about the past, people will gesture forward, and when talking about the future, they motion behind themselves. This isn’t just a linguistic quirk; it reflects a deep cultural perspective that sees time as something we move through in reverse. If nothing else, it’s a great excuse for never seeing disaster coming.^[10]