Mt. Makiling is a mountain in northern Philippines that is sacred to many pilgrims. It's widely believed to be the home of a diwata (pronounced di-wa-ta meaning nature spirit) named Maria Makiling. Here is a short story about the legend of Maria Makiling:
Long ago, nestled within the lush slopes of Mount Makiling, lived Maria, a diwata of breathtaking beauty and boundless generosity. Her heart was as verdant as the forests she called home, and her spirit as pure as the mountain springs.
The villagers who lived at the mountain's foot were blessed by Maria's kindness. When they were in need, she would leave gifts of golden ginger, shimmering pearls, and baskets overflowing with ripe fruits. They knew her presence by the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves, and the sweet scent of wildflowers that filled the air.
Sometimes, a young man, lost or seeking adventure, would wander into the mountain. Maria, with her gentle spirit, would sometimes fall in love with these mortals. Some would never return to the village, choosing to stay with the beautiful diwata, forever enchanted by her grace.
But as time passed, the villagers’ hearts grew heavy with greed. They took Maria's gifts for granted, and their respect for the mountain dwindled. They carelessly felled trees, polluted the streams, and forgot the reverence they once held for the diwata.
Maria's heart grew heavy with sorrow. She watched as the once vibrant forest withered, and the once clear streams turned murky. Disappointed by the people's lack of respect, she retreated deeper into the mountain, her gifts ceasing.
Now, only whispers of Maria Makiling remain. On quiet nights, when the moon casts its silvery glow upon the mountain, some say they can still feel her gentle presence, a reminder of the beauty and generosity that once graced their lives, and a warning to respect the natural world.
For Maria did not simply vanish. She became the very protector and guardian of Mount Makiling, her spirit woven into the ancient trees and flowing streams. And even in these modern times, when the mountain is shrouded in mist, or when the moon hangs heavy in the sky, there are those who claim to have glimpsed her, a fleeting figure of ethereal beauty, a silent testament to the enduring magic of the mountain, and the enduring power of her legend.