In 2006, Venus Andrecht began a series of dialogs with nonphysical energies she eventually named "the High Beings." As her communication with these energies evolved, she was given a startling series of revelations that completely altered her understanding of the world and the nature of life and death.
These Beings comment on life's most complex issues, such as: why we suffer, past lives, death, why we came here, who we are, what happens to loved ones who've passed on, why animals suffer, the best way to live, and more. At its heart is the fundamental idea that "God is always happy," which is supported by a simple framework of related ideas that neatly account for all the vagaries of life.
As the communication bloomed into a daily dialog, Venus realized that she was indeed communicating with forms of consciousness who whose broader understanding and insight have answered, and continue to answer, her most profound questions about the nature of life. Keep reading to discover Venus's own words about how this extraordinary communication began, along with excerpts of the Beings' communication with her, taken directly from her notebooks.
You can read the Beings' words here, or read my opening story below ...
May 26, Friday, 2006: I'm fixing dinner with a glass of red wine in my hand. As I step to the sink to wash a dish, I hear: "God is always happy."
"Is He now?" I think.
"And God is always glad," the inner voice says.
"Oh. Maybe I should write this down."
As I reach for a pen, I hear: "God is always happy because God is always experiencing Itself."
And so it begins.
The Ten-Sentence Framework
What unfolds over the following months is a simple, logical explanation of life: who we are, why we suffer, what we are doing here, and why. The bones of the discourse are eventually revealed to be a simple, short framework consisting of approximately ten sentences that appear to answer any question that a human being might ask. These are:
The Shocking Event
What precedes this startling and unexpected communication in my life? Here are the notes from my journal.
December 22, Thursday, 2005: It's a few days before Christmas, about 5:30 in the evening, when my sister Polly calls.
"You know that surfer who went down today in the ocean? That was Michael," she says.
"Michael?! Michael died?! Michael?"
My nephew Michael. Thirty-six, a well-known champion surfer and snowboarder, with two small children, my sister Polly's son, has had a seizure in the ocean while surfing, has drowned and died. He's gone? Gone. Forever gone.
I start screaming. I'm crying. I'm sobbing, "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Polly!" Before I throw the phone at my boyfriend, Bill, I hear my sister say, pensively, "Well . . . I guess you won't be able to help me make some calls."
I drop to my knees on the floor. I'm sobbing and rocking and keening. Then, I lurch to my feet and circle the room. Emotion is crushing me. I'm so desperately sorry for Polly and her husband, Ron. I'm so desperately sorry for Michael.
I have just seen the death scene on the television news. I saw the body of a surfer on the beach, shrouded by drapes of yellow canvas and surrounded by investigators and I had thought, "I wonder who's son that is? What family will be devastated, tonight?"
And, it's Michael. Our Michael!
I can't bear the thought of the loss of a child and now it's happened to my sister!
I'm aware of huge surges of emotion moving up in my body; I see it in my mind as large pink blocks of energy. The feeling that accompanies the emotion is the same feeling a woman has who is giving birth to a baby without anesthesia. When your body has to push it has to push and no one and no thing can stop the body from pushing.
As the energy blocks roll through me and upwards I screeeeeeam the energy out! Then, I'm sobbing and crying again and saying how sorry I am. Then, again comes the enormous wave and I'm screaming, screaming as I have never screamed before.
Bill is still on the phone with Polly and I notice him standing transfixed, looking at me, his eyes as round as blue coat buttons.
Over and over, wave upon wave of massive energy rolls up and through me and rips from my throat and out my mouth. It seems like forever, this sobbing, this yelling my sorrow to my sister, this screeeeeaming out this thundering uncontainable energy that is racing through me.
At some point Bill comes to me. I'm on the floor at the moment and as he peers down at me he says, "You have to pull yourself together. You have to help your sister."
"I know it," I manage to gasp. "I want to help Polly...." I'm panting. "I have to pull myself together." And, the mighty wave comes, again, and I'm struggling to my feet, beating on a door and screaming and screaming and screaming.
Finally, the uncontrollable rolling and spewing of emotional force ends. Was I lost in it, and overtaken by it, for twenty minutes or ten? It seems like hours.
I am shaking and stunned, but I am able to go to my sister's house and sit with our family in the confusion of the evening.
Living in Ecstacy
I'm puzzled. I don't know what happened to me. Bill tells me later that he has never seen anything like it. The closest he can compare it to is when his son was a toddler and had excruciating temper tantrums.
As the next weary days pass, I find that I am grieving for Michael and his children and parents. And yet, and yet . . . I am also in ecstasy. I am living in and feeling what seems to me to be the highest form of love. I feel that I am with the highest Beings in the universe. I feel that I am love, total love, as They are. My eyes often run with tears and my heart feels opened wide with a love so powerful that there is a glorious "hurt" to it.
The ecstasy persists. And, persists. For how long? Months?
Finally, I realize I simply can't live this human life as it needs to be lived and remain ecstatic and in love, like this. I can't "do" mundane, and life calls for mundane. I feel like a wraith of my former self, now that I am a walking ecstatic being who is expected to cook meals, earn money, spend money, talk rationally on the phone, and change my clothes. I decide I have to amp this love down to a working level, and I do.
But, coming down is easier than going back up.
Still, when I want to, I find that I can recapture the ecstasy, but as the world turns in my life, I find I "rest in love" less and less.
Back to "Real" Life
I'm thinking a lot, now. I'm thinking how I've studied so many religions and spiritual teachings. I have always found myself able to accept much, but, inevitably, clunkers are thrown into the mush. Clunkers, in my mind, are either outrageous lies or well-meant fantasies, strewn in among the truths. Or, they are just plain mental aberrations on the part of the people who started these ways of thinking or of the people later on who kept repeating these philosophies.
I am annoyed. I become quite ill with colds, flus, and infections that stay and plague me. One night, in the middle of the night, while having an especially bad flu of some sort, I find myself thinking, "Maybe whatever this is will kill me." Forgotten are my former ecstatic high and my time with the high Beings. I'm in a panic. I grab the mental air for some kind of spiritual thought or a religion that will hold me up. I run through the list. Alarmingly, I can only recall the parts that disturbed me—what I felt were the silly pronouncements and the rules that disgusted me and the seemingly purely made up or delusional beliefs mixed in among what I felt were logical and reasonable truths. "As soon as I get well," I think, "If I get well, I am going to have to find something I can believe in. I must."
Searching for the Truth
Once again, I begin paging through the various religions and kinds of spiritual thinking, hoping to find something that is even close enough to what I think might be logical and right. I'm willing to compromise. But, once again, because of their complexity and dictates, I give them all up in disgust and despair.
"It must be simple," I think. "Surely, the answers to this life, to God, to everything, are very simple." I am sure of it. "Please tell me," I beg the Universe, "tell me simple."
And so, in May of 2006, it begins, on a Friday night, while attempting to wash a dish with a glass of red wine in my hand.
Within several months, I realize I am being given a simple framework upon which I feel any question ever asked, can be answered.
Continue by reading the Beings' own words.