What I did not write about was the all-too-real end-of-life journey of my earliest childhood friend Marisa, who was courageously facing metastatic cancer while I went about my hypothetical journey.

Unbelievably, I’ve arrived at the end of the Year to Live project. I’ve learned from others that the “dissolution of the body” meditation which symbolically closes the class is a powerful one. Frankly, I’m scared of it. One person I know who experienced it said that this exercise is so visceral that he actually lost control of some, ah, bodily function when he did it.

Amma, otherwise known as the “Hugging Saint,” is an Indian woman — a divine spirit by some accounts — who is said to have the power to transmit a spark of unconditional love and compassion through her embrace. People came from all around the country to stand in line to see her; surely I could travel 40 blocks.

There should be a rule against writing about meditation retreats immediately after they’re over. In those first hours and days post-retreat, it’s as if I’m experiencing the world through a fresh set of eyes. The cosmos have aligned. Nothing could be a problem. It also smacks of a certain smugness.

Fortunately for me, New York City is a very easy place to learn to meditate. In the midst of all the hustle, there are meditation centers of all stripes. I pretty much tried them all, finally alighting on the non-sectarian vipassana meditation as the one most in sync with my disposition. All these years later, what do I get out of meditation?

My friend Ibrahima does not know which day or year he was born. He came into this world in Guinea, West Africa, where his native language N’Ko had no written form until very recently. To obtain a passport, he had to approximate how old he was and select a day that felt right to him.

Here are the words that we have printed out, hung by our desks, posted on sticky notes on our fridges. Thanks to everyone who sent me quotes, poems and sayings that keep them going and provide inspiration in their lives.

The nine contemplations on death come from an 11th century Buddhist scholar. They are meant to help us explore the inevitability of death. This week, I’m trying an experiment in which I read the 9 contemplations to myself before I sit for ten minutes of quiet reflection.