The Daily Examen for Modern Life
Based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius
Be where you are; otherwise, you will miss your life.
One of the most valuable practices I learned as a Jesuit novice was the daily Examen. The word “Examen” comes from the Latin word for “examination.” The Examen is a reflection technique developed by St. Ignatius of Loyola in the 16th century as part of his Spiritual Exercises. The idea was to be mindful of one’s day to detect God’s presence and discern His guidance for a more purposeful life.
I must admit that back then, in 1998, it felt like a chore. At 9 p.m. every evening, we entered what was called “major silence”. From that moment on, no unnecessary words were spoken. If there were chores to be done or homework to complete, we did them quietly, moving about the house in near silence. Major silence was not just the absence of noise. It was an invitation to turn inward. And just before bed, we spent half an hour doing our Examen.
The same thing happened again at dawn, before morning Mass.
It was hard to be disciplined about it. Anything you must do every day feels heavy. And yet the Examen asked so little: not analysis, not production, not heavy thinking; just to notice: to notice where I had been present, where I had been absent.
At the time, it felt ritualistic, even unnecessary. Only later did I see its quiet genius. Those pauses slowed me down and sharpened my attention. They forced me to look inward and be honest about things I would rather have ignored. The Examen wasn’t just a “prayer” but more a state of prayer. It was a recalibration of the soul, a returning to the centre.
What Is the Examen?
The Examen was meant to be practised daily by anyone seeking to live more consciously. The heart of it is simple: pause, reflect, and realign.
In its traditional form, the Examen has five parts:
Presence
Gratitude
Review
Sorrow
Hope
The genius of the Examen is its simplicity. It asks only a few minutes of your day, but those minutes have the power to reshape how you live the whole of your life. I now see it as a constant course correction as you go on in life.
Why does it matter even more today?
We live in a restless world. Our days are filled with noise: messages, meetings, endless passive scrolling. We move so quickly from one thing to the next that we rarely stop to ask, ‘What just happened?’ To me? How did that event shape me?
The Examen offers a pause, a way of stepping off the treadmill briefly to notice where our lives are drifting. It reminds us that life is not just a blur of tasks to complete, but a series of choices that influence who we are becoming.
Without reflection, we risk living in ignorance. We drift where the day’s activities take us. We forget how quickly time flies, and we waste away decades, one minute at a time.
Beyond Religion
Though born in a religious tradition, the Examen is not reserved for believers only. At its core, it is simply about paying attention. You can replace “God” with “conscience,” “life,” “the universe,” or simply “my true self.”
The point is mindfulness and honesty.
The Examen asks: Did I live today as the person I want to become? Where did I move closer to love, and where did I drift into selfishness or fear?
In that sense, it belongs to anyone willing to pause and take stock of their life.
How to Practice a Modern Examen
The Examen need not be long. Even five or ten minutes is enough to provide the space for clarity and renewal. Here is one way to approach it: as a practice of paying attention.
Presence. Place yourself in awareness.
This is a deliberate effort to pause. Traditionally, we say, “Let’s come into the presence of God”. This coming into the presence is making a deliberate effort to pause. To recalibrate our rhythm and give us a chance to catch our breath. Not just to slow down, but to stop.
When I first practised the Examen as a novice in 1998, we didn’t have mobile phones or endless streams of notifications. But if we did, I imagine the first instruction would have been: put everything aside. Step away from distraction. Pause. Reset. The very act of stopping interrupts the momentum of stress and reminds us that we are more than the next task on our list.
Gratitude. Recall moments of blessing or life-giving experiences.
Psychologists today speak often of the power of gratitude journals; of writing down three things you are thankful for each day. In spirit, this is what the Examen invites us to do. Gratitude shifts our focus. It pulls us away from bitterness and self-obsession and helps us notice the good that is quietly present, even when times are difficult. To be grateful is to recognise that no matter how heavy the day felt, life still offers something worth cherishing: a kind word, a moment of laughter, even the gift of breath.
Review. Look back over your day, hour by hour, noticing what stirs within you.
The review is a kind of mindfulness. It prevents our days from blurring into one another, forgotten before they are lived. This part invites us to look back and ask: What actually happened today? Was I present to the people and events around me, or was I lost in distractions? Were there gaps in my attention, moments that slipped by unnoticed? By reviewing, we reclaim our lives instead of letting them rush past in a haze of busyness.
Sorrow. Acknowledge where you fell short.
It’s hard to find another word for sorrow without making it sound too negative. This is closer to self-awareness rather than “sorrow for sin” in the religious context. The assumption here is that we (most of us, at least) want to improve, to do better. To be a better husband, a better son, a better father. To be a better colleague, boss, or employee. To be a better person to the people in our lives.
When I was first taught the Examen, I was reminded that this was not about guilt but clarity. How did I act today? Was I kind, or was I mean and dismissive? Did I notice the needs of others, or turn a blind eye? Did I contribute to making a positive difference? Or walked on the other side of the road? Sorrow is about recognising the shape of our character in the choices we make every day.
Hope. Look toward tomorrow with intention, asking for strength to live more fully.
The Examen should end in hope. After seeing clearly, we look forward. Tomorrow, we do not need to repeat today’s mistakes. We can do better. If someone constantly irritates me, perhaps I can choose to see them with empathy instead of annoyance. If I were impatient, maybe I could try listening more fully. Hope reframes our future as possibility, as an invitation to grow, to choose differently, to live closer to the person we long to be.
What I Learned From the Examen
When I practised the Examen daily as a novice, I began to see patterns I had never noticed. I saw how often I was driven by fear of failure rather than love of service. I saw how fatigue made me impatient and mean. I saw where I was most alive: in family, in writing, in companionship.
The Examen is like a mirror. Not always flattering, but almost always truthful. And truth is liberating, because once I could see clearly, I could also clearly choose.
These days, I am no longer religious. But I have returned to this practice, occasionally, in different forms. Sometimes it is at night before sleep. Sometimes at the end of a long week. It helps me recalibrate, reminds me that my life is measured by how I live what I most value. It also reminds me that time is always running out.
A Pause That Changes the Day
The Examen is about growth. It is about awareness. A few minutes of honest reflection can change how you see today, and how you live the rest of your life. It is coming home to yourself, noticing what is real, and reorienting your life’s journey toward what matters.
So tonight, before going to sleep, I invite you to pause. Look back over your day. Ask yourself, “Did I live truly? Did I truly live?”
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