"Autobiographies of great nations are written in three manuscripts – a book of deeds, a book of words, and a book of art. Of the three, I would choose the latter as truest testimony." - Sir Kenneth Smith, Great Civilisations

"I must write each day without fail, not so much for the success of the work, as in order not to get out of my routine." - Leo Tolstoy

I have never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again. - John Updike

"The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations." - Lawrence Ferlinghetti


[Note - If any article requires updating or correction please notate this in the comment section. Thank you. - res]


Wednesday, February 4, 2026

R.E. Slater - The Stone Lions We Mistook for Enemies



The Stone Lions We Mistook for Enemies

Consuming the Symbol, Missing the Spirit
in an Age of Idol-Making

by R.E. Slater & ChatGPT


Misplaced power and piety
becomes a hunger that devours itself;
they slay the imagined lions of life
only to starve upon their stony carcasses -
Killing the living, calling it bread.
- re slater



Preface

This past August of 2025 I attempted a reconstruction of a Chinese riddle I read of in April of 2020.  I had a lot of fun with its form but grew exhausted towards the end when creating a "sideways" appendix related to America's religious and political landscape.

Today, I would like to pick up on the thoughts expressed in that 4-part Appendix and shape a concluding poetic reflection re maga Christianity and Trumpian politics. The poem will be gathered into a single, allegorical, process-inflected voice, one which leans into prophetic, meditative, and spacious reflection rather than using a more typical, polemical voice.


References

施氏食狮史 Shi-Shi. The Lion-Eating Poet in the Stone Den. 12 Interpretations. 6 Poems. +4 More (Appendix)

What Does It Mean?? Interpreting the Riddle of the "Lion-Eating Poet in the Stone Den"


Introduction

Some stories endure not because they give answers, but because they remain inexhaustible. They continue to open, to trouble, to mirror. Yuen Ren Chao’s playful yet disorienting riddle, “The Lion-Eating Poet in the Stone Den,” belongs to this rare class. On the surface it is a linguistic labyrinth. Beneath that surface it becomes a parable of perception itself - of how easily naming something replaces seeing the real entity of that something; teaching once again how quickly certainty substitutes for meaningful encounter, and how effortlessly the human mind turns symbol into object and object into threat.

Over time, this riddle has become for me less a puzzle of language and more a lens on culture. It exposes a recurring human pattern:

we often destroy what we do not understand, devour what we have misrecognized, and sanctify our hunger as virtue.

In this sense, Mr. Shi is not merely a fictional poet. He is a recurring posture within civilizations - political, religious, and personal.

The reflections gathered here below approach the riddle not as a clever word-game but as a living, resident allegory. They draw upon a Whiteheadian-processual sensibility, further informed by Daoist and Zen intuitions, exploring how reality itself is better understood as relational becoming rather than static cultural substance. Within such a framework, democracy is not a finished structure to be defended once-and-for-all, but an unending, evolving relationship between unlike social entities to be continuously, lovingly cultivated. Similarly, faith is never a fixed possession nor proposition - but an ongoing response to the lure of divine novelty in every moment of every day.

From this vantage, the contemporary rise of MAGA-Trumpian politics and MAGA-Christianity appears less as an anomaly and more as a tragic intensification of an ancient error: consuming the symbol while missing the spirit, attacking statues while believing we have slain monsters. The danger is not simply moral failure. It is perceptual failure - a collapse of symbolic literacy, a forgetting of how to dwell within ambiguity, and a refusal to exercise humility before reality's evolving icomplexity.


About the Poem

The poem that follows does not aim to argue in the usual sense. It seeks instead to invite a different mode of seeing. Its voice is intentionally allegorical, meditative, and spacious. It tries not to speak in a register of denunciation, but in the quieter register of lament and possibility. It gestures toward a world in which arrows are lowered, jaws are unclenched, and the long work of relational becoming can begin again.

What remains, then, is not a final word, but an opening. A cave whose entrance is still unblocked. Lions still unchewed. A future still capable of learning how to love itself into existence.



The Stone Lions We Mistook for Enemies

The Lion-Hunter walked
into his unswept cave
with a quiver full of certainties,
arrows tipped in slogans,
and eyes trained on shapes
he had already named.

This is the Lion, he said.
Here, the Threat, he remarked.
And all Evil, he flatly stated.

And so he loosed his arrows
upon stones that cracked,
dragging lion corpses in the dust
hearing echo answering echo.

But no blood ran that day.
No breath fled from living life.
Only rising dust falling
like useless prayers to vanquish.

Yet the hunter did not notice.
He dragged the stony corpses home,
stacking them like trophies
inside the chambers of his chest,
sharpening his hunger.

When he chewed,
his teeth met gravel.
His tongue met ash.
His mouth filled with the taste of nothing.

Still, it was victory he felt burning within.
Somewhere in the rubble of his ruins
lay a constitution yet breathing,
a gospel still whispering,
a democracy wanting to become.

But the Lion-Hunter could not hear them,
because listening requires disarming.
So he called judges, demons,
neighbors invaders,
life's questions treason,
and compassion weakness.

He mistook scaffolding for chains,
and tore down the erected house,
that he might feel free again.
Releasing his demons.
Quieting his fears.

He said he ate Christ.
But what he bit into was
the marble of his heart.

He swallowed crosses
without ever touching mercy.

He memorized verses
without learning their pulse.

He polished a militant savior,
cast in the image of his fear,
praying to the echo of his own voice.

When he broke his teeth
on a statue of the living God
he blamed love for being too soft.

The tragedy is not that lions were slain,
though this too often was tragic -
the tragedy is that they were never lions.
They were symbols of fear.

They were also symbols of life.
Windows to seeing.
Doorways to enter.
Invitations to love.
Stony figures pointing toward living depths.

And yet, the hunter aimed
where his heart feared,
and feared to move towards.

But a living democracy is not a fortress -
it is a living, breathing conversation.
Like a bodily constitution
birthed but not yet writ.

Nor is faith a fortress wall -
It is a wandering path moving forward.
Nor is difference a beast to be conquered -
but a life practicing more ways to sing.

Still, the Lion-Hunter
wanted obeying silence -
shaped like certainty,
and certainty shaped like control.

So the cave filled with monuments
to the hunter's own confusion.
Outside the den there were lions to kill,
that remained unchewed.

They were not stone.
But living lions.
Alive.
Breathing.
Golden with becoming.

Yet those lions did not roar
in domination -
They invited.

They did not devour -
They offered fellowship.

They did not demand whitewashing -
They offered a living participation,
until they did not
when killed.

The offer to the hunter
was to drop his strung bow,
to unclench his locked jaw,
to step into the unfinished light
of becoming,
and sit beside what he feared.

Learning and receiving
is an ever present practice.
When learning the grammar of awe.
When letting a person's rights
become a verb again.
In allowing faith to dance again.
And one's neighbor be a miracle again.

The fearsome lions were never enemies - 
They never were
what they were thought to be.

They were the many faces
of a world still learning
how to love each other
into comely existence.


R.E. Slater
February 4, 2026
@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved



Lessons Learned

MAGA, Misrecognition, and the Ruins of Symbolic Life

1.

They aimed at lions
and shattered statues.
They swallowed stone
and called it strength.

2.

When a culture loses the art of symbol,
it begins to eat its own metaphors
starving while chewing.

3.

Power that cannot listen
turns imagination into weapon,
and weapon into theology.

4.

The greatest danger is not false gods,
but mistaking stone for spirit
and violence for devotion.

5.

Every age is tested
by whether it can tell the difference
between what threatens it
and what invites it to become.

6.

Authoritarian faith does not believe in God.
It believes in certainty.

7.

What we consume shapes what we become.
Those who feed on fear
inherit its emptiness.

8.

The ruins of a civilization
begin where symbols are treated as enemies
instead of teachers.

9.

When power devours meaning,
it calls the hunger holy.

10.

Democracy dies first as imagination
before it dies as law.

11.

Faith dies first as relationship
before it dies as doctrine.

12.

The lion was never the enemy.
The inability to see was.


R.E. Slater
February 4, 2026
@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved

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