The world is a web, a vast tapestry where every thread pulls on the others. We don’t live isolated lives; we live in a profoundly relational cosmos. The coronavirus taught us this in a way we couldn’t ignore. Its ripple effects touched every corner of existence: economic systems faltered, social norms shifted, weddings were postponed, and our priorities rearranged themselves. Even nature seemed to hum a different tune, with emboldened deer and turkeys wandering urban streets, reclaiming spaces emptied of human noise.

This moment of pause forced many of us to reflect, not just on how we are connected but on how we are impacting the world and being impacted in return. It invited us to see our lives through a relational lens, asking us to reconsider what we value and how we interact with everything around us.

In Japan, there is a practice of reflection called Naikan, a discipline of intentional attention developed in the 1940s by Ishin Yoshimoto, a devout Buddhist. At first glance, it seems deceptively simple: three questions designed to mirror the relational nature of existence:

What did I receive from others today?
What did I give to others today?
What difficulties did I cause others today?
These questions are not just prompts; they are a practice of seeing, a way to shift our focus from complaint to connection. Yoshimoto believed, as do I, that by asking these questions, we begin to broaden our perspective. It’s as if we climb a mountain and, at the summit, realize how narrow our view had been from the valley.

Take the first question: What did I receive from others today? It seems straightforward, even trivial at first. My car started this morning. The trees along the road shaded my walk. A friend made me laugh. But these “small” things, these unnoticed acts of generosity from the world, are the foundation of our lives. Without them, we falter.

Then the second question: What did I give to others today? It’s a reminder that we are not only recipients but participants. Every action, no matter how small, ripples outward. A kind word, a meal shared, a gesture of patience, these are not inconsequential. They are seeds we plant in the soil of relationships, in the living world that supports us.

Finally, the hardest question: What difficulties did I cause others today? It demands honesty and humility, asking us to recognize that our actions, whether intentional or not, have weight. What is it like to share space with me, to be on the receiving end of my choices? This question challenges us to be accountable, to see ourselves not as solitary actors but as contributors to the unfolding story of the world.

Naikan is not a gratitude journal, though gratitude often arises from its practice. It’s a discipline of attention, a way to look at the relational dance of giving, receiving, and affecting. In the framework of process philosophy, it aligns beautifully. Whitehead spoke of the world as an interconnected web of becoming, where each moment, each action, becomes part of the whole. Naikan invites us to step into that web consciously, to see the strands that connect us and act with intention.

This is not about changing who we are but about changing where we place our attention. Life becomes not something we endure but something we participate in. By reflecting on these three questions, we take small steps toward living deliberately, to use Thoreau’s words.

In this moment, as you read these words, I invite you to try it yourself. Pause and ask: What have I received today? What have I given? What difficulties have I caused? These questions, simple yet profound, can guide us to live relationally, to honor the web of life that sustains us, and to carry forward our small yet significant contributions to a cosmos that is always becoming.

Naikan is a mirror, and in its reflection, we see not just ourselves but the world we are shaping together.