A Spiritual Fable of Transformation for Kids and Adults
Based On My Understanding of Romans 6
Once upon a time, in a valley where the heavens glowed with golden light, there lived a young fox called Flicker. He enjoyed running after shadows on the forest trails, weaving in and out of the trees, jumping over roots and dead leaves. But however fast he ran, the shadows were right behind him, lengthening, changing, murmuring in voices that only he could hear.
“Stay with us, Flicker,” they whispered. “This is what you are. A shadow-seeker, always circling.”
The moment you choose transformation, the old disappears, and a new vibration begins.
One day, late in the afternoon when the sun was low, Flicker caught a strange sound—one he had never heard before. A melody, soft and glittering, floated on the breeze. He tracked it through the trees until he came to the Whispering River, a silver ribbon that flowed through the valley’s heart. The river shimmered with light, and when Flicker listened closely, he heard it singing.
“Enter my waters, let the shadows go by. Dance in the light, where new songs are created.”
Flicker halted, his paws planted in the ground. The shadows had been his loyal companions. But when he heard the song of the river, something in him moved—a sensation he could not put a name to, like waking from a profound dream. He stretched out cautiously and placed a paw in the water.
A warmth spread through him, not only in his fur but in his bones, his heart, his essence. The shadows behind him trembled, then started to break up, shattering into the golden light.
To align with the higher frequency is to release attachment to the lower. You can’t go two ways at the same time.
Flicker wished to jump into the river, to allow it to sweep him away to somewhere else, yet some part of him continued to cling to what he knew. He remembered his early nights of shadow-chasing, when he was a kit—how they had been his companions when he was alone, how they had given him something to pursue when the world felt too vast.
“What if I miss them?” he whispered.
The song of the river grew, surrounding him with a soothing embrace.
“You cannot dance in the waters and run in the dust at the same time, little fox. Decide where your heart sings.”
Flicker breathed deeply. Then, with one last look at the disappearing shadows, he moved forward, fully into the river. As he did, the dust dropped from his fur, and his body started to shine, catching the light of the river.
The air was perfumed with wildflowers and fresh rain. And for the first time in his life, Flicker felt weightless.
The loop of cause and effect is broken once you place yourself under a higher authority. What once controlled you no longer has authority once you move out of its sphere.
As Flicker swam, he noticed something strange. The shadows that had always followed him, always pulled him back, were gone. They weren’t on the shores, waiting. They had simply ceased to be present in this place.
“The shadows had power only because you lent them your steps,” the river whispered. “Now you walk with my flow, and their whispers cannot touch you.”
Flicker felt something coming undone within him, something he had not known had been tied so tightly for so many years. He laughed, turning in the water, feeling as light as a feather.
Liberty is not a lack of selection but in free concord with a greater beat.
“Does that mean I can do anything I want now?” Flicker asked.
The river laughed, and its waves shone like starlight.
“True freedom is not chaotic running,” it sang. “It is choosing to walk to the rhythm of something greater than yourself.”
Flicker shut his eyes. He felt the pulse of the river, how it ran through the valley, through the rocks, through the roots of the trees. He allowed himself to drift, but not randomly—in rhythm. The sensation was unfamiliar to him.
To be in harmony with the eternal, you have to become the resonance of that which is eternal.
When Flicker danced along the riverbank, he noticed other animals observing him—a couple of birds, a silent rabbit, even an old grumpy badger.
“How can I remain in this light always?” he inquired.
The river’s song answered:
“Be kindness, be courage, be joy without end. Make me your melody, and the light will never stray.”
Flicker smiled. He was no longer merely walking in the river anymore—he was becoming one with it.
The way forward entails surrender, but not to external direction, rather to the organic unfolding that has been beckoning you all along.
One day, a strict old owl sat atop a rock by the river and hooted.
“Follow my decrees if you wish to see the light!” the owl declared. “Step here, leap there—only by obeying me will you stay on the straight and narrow!”
Flicker glanced up at the owl, then down at the river. The water glittered with silent assurance.
“I do not summon you to obedience,” the river murmured. “I summon you to faith. I have been here all along, waiting for you to return home.”
Flicker breathed in deeply—and let the river guide him.
To live is to vibrate in concord with the infinite, to be a conduit of the upper current, and to rise above the cycle of dissolution.
Years passed. The dry roads crumbled and vanished, but the river kept flowing, untouched by time.
“Why don’t you ever age?” Flicker asked.
“Because I flow with the eternal,” the river sang. “And so can you.”
Flicker understood. He was not just a fox anymore—he was a bearer of the light of the river, a living note in its everlasting song.
The energy you serve creates your life. Serve well.
One evening, Flicker encountered a little squirrel, still chasing shadows on the ground.
“Come swim in the river,” Flicker called.
The squirrel halted, his tiny paws shaking. “But the shadows are all I know,” he whispered.
The river’s voice was soft now, a lullaby.
The energy that you serve determines who you become. Choose wisely.
Flicker grinned. “I chose the river,” he said, “and it changed everything.”
The squirrel took a small step forward, his fur catching the first hint of light. And Flicker realized that his journey was just beginning.
And so, the little fox danced through the valley, his heart singing with the song of the river, leaving a path of golden light—an invitation to all who would follow.
The Moral of the Story
Let go of the shadows that weigh you down and step into the flow of light. True freedom comes not from running wild, but from choosing to dance with the rhythm of wisdom, courage, and joy—a song that calls you home to your truest self.
The End.
I hope you enjoy The Song of the Whispering River. More coming soon 