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CHAPTER ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n I curl into the fetal position inside my sleeping bag atop a two-thousand-year-old pyramid, ten stories above the jaguar-and-snake-infested Guatemalan jungle at the edge of the Lost World, the most remote corner of this ancient Mayan city. My blue jeans and jacket offer little comfort against the splintery boards beneath me or the shivers racking my body from anxiety and the unexpectedly cold breeze of the jungle night.\u00a0<\/p>\n Suddenly, a rustling starts in the trees below. My stomach tightens. My body stiffens. I peer over the edge of the pyramid and can almost see in the branches of one of the trees the gigantic jaguar that, myth holds, is sent by the Seven Sister stars of the Pleiades to claim disrespectful intruders. <\/em>\u201cI\u2019m here to honor you,\u201d I whisper into the darkness.\u00a0<\/p>\n It takes all the discipline I can muster not to snap on my flashlight, rush down the wooden stairs that zigzag along one side of the pyramid and try to find my way through the labyrinth of serpentine paths back to the Jungle Lodge, near Tikal\u2019s entrance. But that would be insanity, especially for a city girl like me!<\/p>\n The breeze dies and so does the rattling in the trees. No jaguar. I sigh with relief, lie back, and stare into the night sky where black tentacles devour one star after another. \u201cMeditate,\u201d I tell myself.\u00a0 I wiggle my toes. And relax them. \u201cPeace, peace. . .\u201d I think. Next my ankles. Tensing and releasing. All the way up my body, contracting and relaxing \u2013 up to my mouth, my nose, my ears, my. . . But my eyes refuse to cooperate; they\u2019re captivated by the Seven Sisters who have escaped the black clouds\u2019 tentacles and dance like distant wiccans in the night sky.\u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cClose your eyes,\u201d an inner voice commands. \u201cFocus. Think of something else, like your family, your job.\u201d I see myself in my Washington, D.C. office, the youngest member of the United States Senate, a lawyer with a degree in chemistry who left a pharmaceutical company to enter politics. My father immigrated from China, my mother from Colombia. They met and raised me in Texas. I spent summer vacations with my grandparents, alternating between China and Colombia and learning the languages of both. My husband\u2019s heritage is English, but a great, great grandfather who immigrated here in 1827 died at the Alamo. With that kind of background, I once thought I could shake the world\u2019s largest economic and military power out of its lethargic response to global warming. However, I\u2019ve learned that a senator isn\u2019t as powerful as I once believed.\u00a0<\/p>\n I open my eyes. The Seven Sisters blink at me, and I remember why I\u2019m here. \u201cYour world can learn from my ancestors,\u201d my Mayan teacher, Nana Juanita Itza, told me just this morning. We were standing near the entry gate to Tikal, studying a diorama of this vast city of pyramids and temples. A group of tourists gawked at us, as though we were ETs, instead of two women from different cultures. Although we both have brown skin, I\u2019m quite tall and thin; she\u2019s short and stocky. Her hair was tucked under a colorful bandana; mine hung over one shoulder, nearly to my breast. She wore a traditional ankle-length wraparound blue-and-purple-striped skirt, a white blouse with azure flowers that contrasted with my faded jeans, pink tee shirt, and a navy-blue jacket tied around my waist.\u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cTo build these cities,\u201d she continued, \u201cmy ancestors cut the forests, drained the swamps, and changed the climate. They destroyed their world. Just like your people today.\u201d She wagged a finger at me \u201cExcept,\u201d her eyes narrowed, \u201cyours are destroying the entire planet.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n I\u2019d come here to regain the idealism that a contentious congress had sucked out of me. Several months earlier, I\u2019d called her from my office in Washington DC. During our conversation, Juanita had promised to help. \u201cYou\u2019ll do two all-night vision quests,\u201d she\u2019d said. \u201cSeven of the most important temples in Tikal were positioned to imitate Pleiades. You\u2019ll be there during the time of the month when the moon hides \u2013 no light to interfere with the stars. Hopefully the Seven Sisters will speak to you, as they have to my people throughout the ages.\u201d<\/p>\n Now, peering into the night sky, I can\u2019t help but wonder: Did the ancient Maya really believe they arrived from Pleiades? I\u2019ve heard that past cultures in other places held similar beliefs. Why would so many share this conviction? I find myself considering the possibility that perhaps, just perhaps. . .\u00a0<\/p>\n An ear-splitting scream shatters the night. I sit bolt upright, terrified.\u00a0<\/p>\n Something hard brushes the top of my head. Another scream and a huge dark form sails over me and disappears.\u00a0<\/p>\n The jaguar! But no, I tell myself. Be rational. An owl. That\u2019s all it was. I force myself to lie back down. <\/p>\n Then another noise breaks the silence, a deep, guttural growl. <\/p>\n I\u2019m out of my sleeping bag and on my feet. \u201cGo away, jaguar,\u201d I yell.\u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cAwaaay, awaaay. . .\u201d echoes back at me from the surrounding pyramids.<\/p>\n I grab my backpack. My fingers fumble for the zipper. I yank.\u00a0 It sticks. \u201cStay back,\u201d I shout into the night.<\/p>\n \u201cBaaack, baaack. . .\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n I yank at the zipper. Again, and again I clutch the fabric and pull, until finally it rips free. I paw past my tennis shoes and socks and pull out my toiletries bag. Where\u2019s that damn flashlight?\u00a0<\/p>\n I hold the toiletries bag like a weapon in both hands. Then I remember. The side pocket of my backpack. I unsnap it, grab the flashlight, switch it on, and scan the top of the pyramid. Nothing. I tip-toe to the edge. The light probes the massive stone wall that falls away below me. Nothing. I rush to the side with the wooden stairs. Nothing. I run toward the third side of the pyramid, stumble, catch myself and slow down, scanning each board with my light before stepping, knowing that a slip could send me to my death. <\/p>\n Then I hear it again. But it\u2019s not a growl. It\u2019s not a jaguar. It\u2019s an eerie voice that is . . . human, or almost human.<\/p>\n To read the rest of this exciting adventure, visit my <\/strong>website!<\/strong><\/span><\/a> You\u2019ll be able to learn more about \u201cMessage from Pleiades,\u201d or <\/strong>get your own copy today.<\/strong><\/span><\/a>\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" CHAPTER ONE I curl into the fetal position inside my sleeping bag atop a two-thousand-year-old pyramid, ten stories above the jaguar-and-snake-infested Guatemalan jungle at the edge of the Lost World, the most remote corner of this ancient Mayan city. My blue jeans and jacket offer little comfort against the splintery boards beneath me or the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":199799,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12022],"tags":[7385,3201,15114],"dealstore":[],"offerexpiration":[],"class_list":["post-199798","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-activist","tag-finally","tag-john","tag-perkins"],"yoast_head":"\n