When I was growing up, in the morning my dad would meditate. As an adult I know I should clarify: he performed this particular "meditation", or exercise, or... I'm inclined to say "devotion". When I came of age and I was curious enough, I would sit with him for the beginning: "Auuuummmmmmmmmm". Then I would laugh and run away, and decide that my dad's word may be "Aummm" but my word is "Chah-kunnnngggg". Later, perhaps around 1984 after the divorce was put into process and I'd visit dad on weekends, and my ability to sit still on occasion began to develop, at the age of five, up in Sierra Madre Canyon, 81 Vista Circle Dr, in the master bedroom, at the window in the southwest corner of the room, facing westward out the window toward the back yard and the view of the canyon from up there, we would sit - he in front, me behind. The old Chinese dresser to our left, his bed (mattress on floor) to our right - the restroom
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