After a deluge of record-breaking rainfall this week, citizens of the United Arab Emirates and Oman are still trying to return to regular life. The storms forced schools, offices, and businesses to close, transformed the tarmac of Dubai’s international airport into a rippling sea, and killed more than 20 people across both nations. The downpour seemed almost apocalyptic: On Tuesday, the UAE received the amount of rain that usually falls in an entire year.

Early reports of the weather event prompted some speculation that it was worsened by a controversial weather-modification technology. The practice, known as cloud seeding, involves spraying chemical compounds into the air in an effort to wring more rain out of the sky. The United Arab Emirates carries out hundreds of these operations every year in an effort to supplement its water resources in the arid landscape. Exactly how well cloud seeding actually works is an active debate among scientists, but the technique can’t produce rain clouds out of thin air—only enhance what’s already there.  

The consensus, for now, seems to be that cloud seeding is unlikely to have contributed significantly to this week’s historic inundation. (The UAE’s meteorology agency said no seeding missions were conducted before the storm.) But the event raises anew some fundamental questions about interfering with nature. Cloud seeding is a type of geoengineering, a set of technologies aimed deliberately at influencing or altering Earth’s climate systems. The warmer our planet becomes, the more attractive geoengineering seems as a way to slow or endure the effects of climate change—and the less accurately we can predict its effects. Scientists can’t be sure that playing God with the atmosphere won’t cause human suffering, even if it is intended to alleviate it.

In the case of cloud seeding, humans have been playing God for decades. The technique dates back to the 1940s, and has been deployed regularly around the world since to provide relief to regions parched by drought, clear skies ahead of Olympic Games, and give ski resorts an extra inch of snow. Scientists have been studying cloud seeding all along, but they’ve only recently managed to document how the technique might actually work, distinguishing between natural precipitation and precipitation that resulted from human intervention. Experts believe that seeding can squeeze out a small amount of additional precipitation, but it is “notoriously difficult” to determine how well it worked in any particular instance, Janette Lindesay, a climate scientist at Australian National University, told me.

[Read: The chemist who thought he could harness hurricanes]

The basics of cloud seeding are straightforward, Lindesay said: If you want rain, you release chemicals that encourage clouds to produce larger water droplets, which are more likely to reach the ground. If you want to suppress rain, you use chemicals that foster the creation of smaller droplets. But the simplicity belies the complicated science and high stakes of manipulating the atmosphere in the 21st century. The 2020s are becoming defined by a warmer atmosphere capable of holding more moisture, conditions that can lead to more extreme and unprecedented weather events, including intense rainfall. Add in geoengineering, and things can get risky. “We are in territory now where we can’t necessarily rely on past experience and past outcomes to inform us,” Lindesay said, of “what is likely to happen when we intervene.”

As geoengineering goes, cloud seeding is a rather limited technique, with small effects confined to small geographical areas. (That’s part of the case against seeding as a significant contributing factor to this week’s flooding in the Middle East; as Amit Katwala pointed out in Wired this week, parts of the UAE where seeding typically does not occur experienced torrential rain too.) But it can still be fraught. Scientists continue to debate whether cloud seeding in one region can have consequences for another. And at a time when droughts are becoming more common, rain is a precious commodity with geopolitical import. In recent years, Iran has accused the UAE and Israel, which has its own seeding experiments, of stealing rain away.

Reports that cloud seeding caused this week’s flooding were likely erroneous, but the reaction they inspired “represents a healthy kind of skepticism about what happens when we interfere with natural systems,” Laura Kuhl, a public-policy professor at Northeastern University who studies climate adaptation, told me. That’s particularly true, she said, when you consider forms of geoengineering premised on producing large-scale effects. Scientists have proposed injecting sulfur dioxide into the stratosphere to reflect some sunlight back into space, preventing it from reaching Earth’s surface. The resulting aerosols could linger in the stratosphere for years, shifting at the whims of the wind. Similar concerns surround another geoengineering technique that involves spraying salt compounds into the air to brighten clouds, which would in turn bounce sunlight back into space. This month, scientists conducted a secretive test of this technology, the first of its kind in the United States. The field is “moving a lot faster than it used to,” Juan Moreno-Cruz, a climate-policy researcher at the University of Waterloo, told me.

[Read: The very optimistic new argument for dimming the sky]

After further research, some geoengineering techniques may well turn out to be useful ways to mitigate or adapt to climate change. But they can’t address its root cause: the burning of fossil fuels, and failure to reduce greenhouse emissions. Many climate experts see geoengineering as a last resort. As our changing atmosphere continues to dramatically drench some parts of the planet and leave others parched for too long, that last resort might start to seem like a more appealing option—even as the consequences of getting it wrong become ever more dire.

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Are you feeling a little guilty about reading this article? Not because of the content, of course—nothing scandalous here!—but rather because of the time it takes away from something else you feel you should be doing. Perhaps you are taking a break from work but feel that you shouldn’t because deadlines and obligations are nipping at your ankles this very minute.

If so, that’s because you’re probably too busy. Not that this is some amazing diagnosis: Most people are too busy. According to surveys conducted in recent years by the Pew Research Center, 52 percent of Americans are usually trying to do more than one thing at a time, and 60 percent sometimes feel too busy to enjoy life. When it comes to parents with children under the age of 18, a full 74 percent said that they sometimes feel too busy to enjoy life.

The solution to excessive busyness might seem simple: do less. But that is easier said than done, isn’t it? After all, the overstuffed schedule we have today was built on trying to meet the expectations of others. But we do have research on busyness, which indicates that the real reasons you’re so overbooked might be much more complicated than this. So if you can understand why you end up with too little time and too much to do, that can point you toward strategies for tackling the problem, lowering your stress, and getting happier.

[Read: One reason hybrid work makes employees miserable]

Researchers have learned that well-being involves a “sweet spot” of busyness. As you surely know from experience, having too little discretionary time lowers happiness. But you can also have too much free time, which reduces life satisfaction due to idleness.

Think of a time when a class was way too easy, or when a job left you with too little to do. Being able to goof off might have been fun for a while, but before long, you probably started to lose your mind. In 2021, scholars at the University of Pennsylvania and UCLA calculated the well-being levels of people with different amounts of time to use at their own discretion; the researchers found that the optimal number of free-time hours in a working day was 9.5—more than half of people’s time awake.

Nine and a half hours is probably a lot more than you usually get or ever could get, between staying employed and living up to family obligations. In fact, the average number of discretionary hours found in the data is 1.8. But even if 9.5 hours is unrealistic, this huge difference is probably reflected in your stress levels and may have longer-term health consequences. The World Health Organization and the International Labour Organization estimate that worldwide, in 2016, as a result of working at least 55 hours a week, some 398,000 people died of a stroke and a further 347,000 died from heart disease. So even if you never get near 9.5 hours, increasing discretionary time is the right health and well-being strategy for most people—and probably for you too. So why aren’t more Americans demanding better work-life balance?

[Read: ‘Ugh, I’m so busy!’: A status symbol of our time]

One answer is that for most of us, too much discretionary time is scarier than too little, and we overcorrect to avoid it. If we don’t know how to use it, free time can become idleness, which leads to boredom—and humans hate boredom. Typically, when we are under-occupied, a set of brain structures known as the Default Mode Network is activated, with behavioral effects that can be associated with rumination and self-preoccupation.

The pattern of thought when that network is involved can be merely trivial (How did my fingernails get so dirty?) or speculatively terrifying (What could my teenager be up to?). To avoid activating this unproductively ruminative state, we look for ways to force ourselves to be busy, such as scrolling through social media and staying busy with some goal-oriented task. In other words, the crazy calendar that doesn’t even give you time to use the bathroom might be—at least in part—a self-imposed creation, after you said “yes” to too many things as an insurance policy against going into that default mode.

Besides having a dread of anxiously pensive boredom, we respond to two other factors when we make ourselves overly busy. First, in American culture, busyness tends to confer social status. Researchers in 2017 demonstrated this with a series of experiments, such as one in which subjects were asked to rate the status of a person based on their Facebook posts. According to their findings, posts that publicized an overworked lifestyle were rated more highly. Second, work performance and busyness tend to be positively correlated.

Research from 2016 also showed that busier people had faster processing speed, better memory, better reasoning, and more knowledge than less busy people. Noteworthy, though, is that the direction of causation is unclear: High performers at work may simply be people who make themselves busier, and they would be just as effective and able if they thinned out their schedule in an effort to be happier.

[Arthur C. Brooks: Overwhelmed? Just say ‘no.’]

For most people, the trouble with busyness is that they are far below the sweet spot of discretionary time in their average workday. This may be unavoidable in part, and some people have a lot less control than others over their schedule. But as the research suggests, many people seem to be inflicting greater busyness on themselves than is necessary because of a fear of idleness.

The solution starts with knowledge of this tendency and a willingness to confront it. Carefully monitor your work patterns and commitments for a week. If you have a hole in your schedule, do you jam it with a low-priority meeting or tasks you would ordinarily avoid? When you unexpectedly find yourself with a free hour because of a cancellation, do you fill it with make-work such as calls and emails that aren’t immediately necessary? These are telltale signs of idleness aversion.

One remedy is to create a list of discretionary tasks that are creative and attractive to you but do not involve a deadline. For me, this means sketching out book ideas in a notebook I carry around with me. When I have unfilled time, I pull out the notebook and start brainstorming. This inevitably induces a pleasurable “flow state,” which gives me energy and refreshes me—and creates an incentive to block out more discretionary time. At one point in my career, when I was running a large organization, this observation led me to ring-fence two hours a day in the morning, when I know that my brain chemistry is best for idea work.

Beyond being fun, such a practice can be revolutionary for your career. Google reserves 20 percent of engineers’ time for projects of their own choosing—literally whatever they want to work on. This free fifth of their time has generated more than half of the company’s highest-revenue-generating products, including Gmail, Google Maps, and Google Earth. If your employer doesn’t go in for a similar program, see if you can do it for yourself by being very strict about getting your official work done within specific time limits, leaving you time for your creativity and passion.

[Derek Thompson: Why Americans suddenly stopped hanging out]

Perhaps you try to follow this advice and still find yourself hopelessly busy. I have one other technique, which I learned some years ago from an efficiency expert. She told me to make a list of the 20 things I felt I had to get done the next day, in order of priority. Then she instructed me to take the top 10 items and list them according to how much I looked forward to doing each one. Finally, with that order, she told me to take my pencil and cross out the bottom 15 items. The top five would be my actual to-do list.

“What about the others?” I asked, dumbfounded. Her response: “You won’t do them, and no one will really notice or care, because everything else will be so good.” Obviously, there are limits to this strategy: If an emergency appendectomy isn’t in your top five because you’re not looking forward to it, you should definitely still get it done. For the most part, though, she was right—and my life improved as a result.