Advent Funeral With Birthday

The coincidence of Advent and the HW Bush eulogies reminded me of DJ Trump's challenge to laugh about himself at least as quickly and quietly as he laughs against others. As compared to any recent US President, he comes in dead last for his appropriate humility, willingness to sacredly listen, empathize with generosity, and least place for his ability to nurture resilient international peace, and I am not sure these two challenges are merely side-by-side coincidental. Other challenges seem to come with the Yangish motivation required to even become a credible candidate. Presidential candidates at least since the Civil War, if not the Revolutionary War, are not generally known for saintly sacred listening to and for healthy multicultural developments, domestic or foreign, domestic and yet foreign to those unschooled in WinWin health-power whisperings, Noticing positive deviance advocated and praised and blessed first well-humored, before negative pedestrian bullying rat races continue with all paranoid Win/Lose stripes madly pursued by monoculturing manic political stars. This Advent day of HW Bush eulogies was also my oppositionally defiant daughter's seventeenth birthday. When I asked her for an allegorical meaning for the Sleeping Beauty fable she dismissed the story as another patriarchal humorless female Messianic staple for achieving EarthJustice happily ever after by mere kiss of Prince Charming after she had done all the heavy emotional lifting required to rebuild sacred communion with resilient good humor. But, she is more interested in discussing Robin Hood and Little Red Riding Hood, all the potential messianic Hood leaders who know predative patriarchal wolves when they see and hear and smell them, even in hooded disguise, transparently lying on their own grandmother's bed and Bible and throne, more committed to democratic good-humored healthy constitutions advocates for sharing communion with all before defending their own ego-centric hindquarters. My fetal alcoholic seventeen year old daughter knows wolves when she hears them in government threatening humorless voices or more entertainingly violent industrial corruption predators. Feminist Hoods can themselves taste wolf hunger for royal hunting and riding and devouring innocent WinWin democratic youth, separating them from their naive healthy multiculturing forests, composed by and for and of naturally diverse and good-humored habitats. She can smell satiated predators growing hungry for vulnerable healthy integrity stealing back fleeting power from Win/Lose playing wolves by investing economic and political trust in those still living natural-humored life as a normal spiritually connecting re-investment. Hooded egos still know this spiritually enchanted forest life as a naturally reconnecting hope for healthy happier, more co-redemptive, EarthJustice futures. And so the eulogies and my daughter's exegetical birthday party progressed through Cinderella's king and queendom at healthier humored EarthJustice hand after marrying her Prince of Adventuring Revolutionary Peace. On through the Three Little Pigs enjoying shared wolf-soup and democratically redistributed cake with all EarthTribe's piglets and cubs, dolls and stuffed bears communioned while down sitting grace-filling together. She hears this same polypathic humored journey in every diversely sacred narrative she leads and listens, smells and tastes and feels hope for Earth's wealth of future everyday health for democratic constitutions, disability stories, eulogies inviting salvific humor. This coincidence of birthday and funeral reminds me of our sacred advent challenges to laugh communally among ourselves more than jeering a viral twittering weapon against the vulnerabilities of others.