The Story of the first Palm Tree, Má’ul

An Elder's Telling of Mául (This story comes from the Cahuilla people)

Come, sit. You children with the sun in your eyes and you young adults with the fire in your hearts. Gather close. Let the shade of this great Má’ul, this palm, cool your skin. Feel the earth beneath you. This ground holds our stories. Listen, and I will tell you one of them. I will tell you of the time before, so you understand the now.

My grandmother told me this story, as her grandmother told it to her, in the cool of the evening when the stars began to sing. It is the story of how we are connected, you and I, to this tree that gives us so much.

There was a time when the land was tired. The sun was a harsh word spoken from the sky day after day, and the earth grew cracked and thirsty. The animals were wise and hid themselves away, and the plants that gave us food curled into themselves and slept. Our people were hungry. We saw the worry etched deep in our mothers' faces and the quiet hunger in the eyes of the little ones.

Living among us then was an ancestor, an elder named Mául. He was a man whose heart was as wide as the valley. He had seen many winters, and his spirit was preparing for the long walk to the world beyond this one. But his heart was heavy. He looked at his people, our people, and he could not bear to leave them in their time of need. His love for them was a mighty river, and he knew he had one last gift to give. It was not something he could hold in his hands; it was something he had to become.

He walked to this very spot, where the water sleeps just under the sand. He knelt, his hands open to the sky, and he prayed. He spoke to the Creator, not with a loud voice, but with the quiet strength of his spirit. He asked for a way to give his life back to the people, to leave a gift that would nourish them long after his name was a whisper on the wind. He offered his body, his spirit, everything he was, as a sacrifice for their survival.

The Creator heard the goodness in his heart. A voice, not of sound, but of knowing, filled his mind. It told him that his selfless love was a worthy gift. The Creator accepted his sacrifice and showed him the path. 'Stand tall,' the voice instructed. 'Root yourself in the earth that has sustained you, and you will become a new life. You will be a tree, and your children will be many. You will give them food, shelter, and a story to tell. This is how you will live forever among your people.'

So Mául stood, his heart filled with the Creator's instructions. He did not die as we think of it. No. He chose to change. He chose to stay with his people forever.

You must understand, children, the sacrifice he made. He gave his body. He stood still and let the earth claim him. We are told his legs, which had walked the hunter’s path, became the strong trunk. The bark that protects the tree from the sun and wind is the skin he offered. His arms, which once held his own children, reached for the sky and became the broad, green fronds that give us shade and shelter. And his head, which held all the wisdom of his years, became the heart of the tree, from which the sweet, dark fruit was born.

When the people first found the tree standing here, they did not understand. They saw only a strange and wonderful plant. But when a child tasted the fruit, it was like tasting life itself. And when an old woman who remembered Mául’s spirit touched the trunk, she knew. "This is our grandfather," she said. "He has not left us. He is feeding us."

So you see, when you eat the sweet fruit of the Má’ul, you are tasting the sweetness of your ancestor’s love. When your mother weaves a basket from these fronds, she is weaving with the hands of the one who came before. The shelter of its leaves is the shelter of his arms. He is in the rustle of the leaves, a whisper telling you that you are not alone.

People came from all over to see the miracle, and they took the seeds, the children of Mául, and planted them in their own places. That is why his family is so large now, spread across the whole land, always watching over us.

Never forget this. This tree is not just wood and leaves. It is family. It is the story of a love so strong it changed its shape to feed its children. It is your connection to the past, and your promise to the future. Respect it. Care for it. And when you sit in its shade, remember Mául. Remember that you are part of a story that never ends.