Tulkitoes! A journey from conception to birth by Palden Jenkins, Sheila Martin and Tulki Joe Jenkins A story about pre-birth communications we had with our child in 1996 Click here for part two of this story

This is a personal story. In writing it, we take a thoughtful risk in good faith that it will be received open-mindedly. It is a recounting of inner communications we have had with our child-to-be, before birth. Early in his gestation, Sheila humorously called him Tulkitoes, and this name has stuck with him. This story involves issues and viewpoints which might be fascinating, challenging or upsetting to the reader. Nevertheless, it is a true account of what we have experienced, written in the light of our way of seeing things. May this recounting be of benefit to anyone interested!

In 1994, Sheila and I considered having a child – or letting it have us! After due thought and preparation – Sheila was in her late thirties, I in my mid-forties – we were ready by early 1995. Sheila had worked in theatre and TV, then as a lecturer in performing arts. I worked in the book trade, in holistic education and the alternative sector. I have three daughters, Maya, Gwynedd and Marieka, born 1977, 1979 and 1989 – unhappily, none lives with us. However, the birth of all three had made a little history in the annals of spiritually-oriented childbirth, and I had thus picked up some experience in 'barefoot midwifery'. Since I was initially reluctant to father a fourth child and Sheila had not seriously considered motherhood until 1993, we gave due time, consideration and preparation to the matter, and then consciously set the wheels in motion in early 1995.

Along came 'Fay'. She proved to be a delightful healing presence. As springtime developed, we gained a palpable sense of who she was – joyous, excited, inquisitive. Our colourful cottage garden flourished in the sunshine – fairies danced amongst the abundant June blossoms. Fay's presence was forgiving and copiously happy. She felt like an ET-type soul, and she loved every minute of gestation. Sheila bloomed and was highly energised and very content – I too. On one memorable occasion we went walking on a sea-headland called Brean Down – Sheila lay in a meadow of bluebells, bumble-bees buzzing, and Fay lapped up the happiness. All was very well.

But then, after three months, Fay unexpectedly withdrew. 'Miscarriage' isn't the right word. This was deeply painful for Sheila – we couldn't believe what was happening. She was distraught, bereaved. For me, after three painful goodbyes to previous daughters it was at least a fact of life involving no differences of opinion. We knew we could try again. Over the ensuing months, Sheila put on a brave face, playing a valiant role in the Hundredth Monkeying camping retreat we staged in August, but she was just waiting for another chance, rueing the loss of Fay.

Such a bright light! Fay was gone. We later came to realise she had perhaps never really intended to be born – she had sought to get a look into life on Earth. She experienced a joyous, colourful aspect of earthly life through us – it felt like a joyous reunion. She still hovers around us as a 'spirit child'. Sheila later felt that Tulkitoes and Fay had done each other a favour – she had opened us up for him while he had deferred to her need for a happy taste of earthly life. At the time of Fay's passing, a little paper bag came along, on which was printed, Thank You. Please call again. Recyclable packaging. It's funny how life communicates its messages!

That year, 1995, Sheila and I were busy organising the first Hundredth Monkey retreat. We pulled in 120 people to do meditation and growth-work to send 'inner aid' to world crisis zones and to help nurture positive world change. As it happened, the Bosnian war stopped on the very day we did some concentrated work on it – but that's another story! While sitting with 70-80 people through long 'circle-working' sessions, many people experienced spiritual beings looking down and working with us. The only appropriate word is holy. I mention this because, looking back, I sensed Tulki amongst them, espying his parents-to-be, the instigators of this event. We were pleased with M100 – a new chapter was beginning.

One night at the camp, I made a 'pact with the universe'. I affirmed that I and we were committed, ready to receive a new soul. Asserting free-will, I laid down a proviso: given that Sheila and I each have a B sense of life-purpose, any soul wanting us as parents was to have needs which were harmonious with ours, reinforcing them. In turn, we would truly assist its own life-purpose. This perhaps sounds obvious, yet few people are clear about this – people attract souls for varieties of unconscious reasons. Since our commitment to M100 involved significant outcomes and responsibilities, we could not allow our child and the project to conflict. Our relationship, being naturally mutually-supportive, made it important to create a coalition of three from the very beginning. I'm glad I made this magic statement of intent: I think Tulkitoes and his 'fixers' appreciated it. Of course, the longterm outcome of it remains to be seen!

A series of life-developments since I was young had opened my psychic channels. This had been a training for what was to happen with Tulkitoes. I had been prised open, learning to empty myself entirely to receive impressions from other realities. Sheila, meanwhile, was independently going through changes prompting her to listen within – a homeopath, treating eczema around Sheila's ears, said she needed to open her psychic hearing. Suddenly, Sheila heard!

Sheila was craving pregnancy again. To a man, this womb-driven craving is a deeply irrational feminine force, yet it demands respect! She was instinctually motoring hard! When I returned from a trip to York, Sheila and I made love. Having tracked and harmonised with her menstrual cycles for some years, she had been 'holding' her ovulation until I came back. While we were making love, part of me said: "If now is the time to come through, you may do so". Sheila later reported that she knew she was conceiving – 24 hours after we had made love. Conception was around 1am on 20th September 1995. However, it didn't feel like Fay. That autumn, Sheila was exhausted and both of us were quite busy, involved in our own work and life-processes. There wasn't the same feeling of presence and joy as before. There was a puzzling quietness. We wondered if something was wrong, but nothing felt wrong.

At that time, Sheila was gulping down books about China. Then she read a book about reincarnating Tibetan lamas – Born in the West, by Vicki Armstrong. This choice of books was unlike her – she was a pragmatic, post-modern, very occidental woman. However, women harbour many enigmatic mysteries, so I accepted it as a fascinating oddity. Then, Sheila reported an extremely lucid and (to her) distasteful dream in which she was on a Himalayan mountain, watching a 'sky-burial'. This is where a dead body is cut up and fed to vultures – the Tibetans believe in completely eliminating the body, to free the soul for its after-death journey. From the viewpoint of 'new age' wishful-thinking, rife in Glastonbury, it's fashionable to desire a Tibetan soul (or an Egyptian or Atlantean!). I was unusually sceptical, despite my own Tibetan connections. However, Sheila is a Geordie opera-and-knitting, tea-drinking type, not particularly 'cosmic' in persona, and it was she who was receiving these Tibetan impressions, not me.

The months passed. We felt a need for indications of some sort. We speculated whether this might be an autistic baby, so silent was it. Parental neurosis! However, some souls can take this form to share a love and healing innocence amidst a raucous, insensitive world. So we accepted this possibility. Yet it didn't seem correct. Sheila searched within to investigate, receiving a very clear message: "Go away! Can't you see, I'm busy building my bones!". This brought some relief, though the mystery continued. Whoever this was, s/he was determinedly weaving an elaborate energy-field in secret, secluded in the womb's deep cave. Meanwhile, further clues fell into place – entirely factual, quite unromantic. The Tibetan name Yeshe came up, as well as the nickname 'Tulkitoes' – it has stuck ever since! A tulku is a high lama who undertakes conscious, chosen rebirth, returning to serve humanity. We suspect that Tulki isn't a tulku, yet he was clearly using the inner techniques tulkus use for conscious rebirth.

Around Christmas, I encouraged Sheila to go inside to do some finding out. I took her on a guided-imagery journey, in which she travelled up the umbilical cord to meet the child. She emerged into the scene of the sky burial. Over to the left, there were two figures, one an indistinct person (Tulki) and the other a smiling, genial lama or elder. Months later, Sheila wondered whether this was a being we came to know as Khang. The overriding impression she gained from this was that she and the child were safe and that all would be well.

While I was talking her through the journey, I followed her imaginally. I saw a rather dashing and proud musketeer, sword at the ready, dressed in ruby red, with a nifty hat. When Sheila later reported she had met a lama, I felt I had perhaps misperceived something – though dark red, the lama colour, was significant. Despite all this, I got a distinct impression this soul was coming to join us in our work. Perhaps we had unconsciously set up M100 as a context for this soul to grow up in. Was this doting paternal romanticism? It felt like business.

Later, I made contact myself. While Sheila relaxed on the sofa, I opened myself up within and then laid my hands on her stomach and 'went in'. I diminished myself to the size of the foetus: I 'saw' it and sensed its energy and nature – something I cannot describe in words, but very simple, calm, benign, 'primitive', with limbs only in the early stages of formation. This was very moving.

Then I found myself breaking through to a new level, going through to his soul. Suddenly I was unmistakably sensing a lama – male – and his meditative presence. It was very powerful, even a bit daunting, in a tranquil sort of way. I felt spiritually diminutive. I asked questions. Was he a lama? Yes – well, a monk. He told me he had chosen us for particular reasons – he wanted an eclectic path of development with spiritual opportunities. We were all just right for each other. He had died in 1932, near Lhasa. He hadn't needed to come back – he chose to, because his people were suffering. He had been a lama from the age of 37 – though I couldn't work out how that related sequentially to 1932. He was measured in his answers.

He had been highly respected. He seemed not to be a high lama (a rinpoche), but he was somehow significant, not an ordinary monk. I tried asking him about this, yet he seemed to prefer not to speak about it. "Is this because you don't want me to get into proud-father syndrome?" "Yes!". He seemed pleased I had understood that. He then gave some insightful comments for Sheila – he asked her to give more time and attention to her inner life, to open her inner hearing. He would help.

I asked whether we had been together before. I got two holographic images. I saw an inn where we three had met – regularly, but not often. It was in Tunhuang, on the Silk Road on the far northwest frontier of China, the gateway to High Asia on the edge of the Gobi. Sheila was the innkeeper. She was in touch with many things, influential, a 'fixer'. It was the 1500s-1600s (Ming dynasty). Tulki was a Tibetan representative, and I was (I think) a Ming mandarin. We carried out discrete operations concerning relations between China, Mongolia and Tibet. We were arranging things in Tibet's favour, yet it was to appear to be in China's favour. (This was possibly the time of Mongol revival under Altan Khan, which worried the Chinese greatly. The Chinese were manoeuvring in Tibet too, to gain suzerainty).

At Tunhuang we had built up great warmth and trust between us – a mutual pact which, if our cover was blown, could cost us highly. We constituted a firm energy-triangle, somehow activating something greater than the sum of our threesome. The other image I briefly got was of Tulki and me trekking through the wide-open wilderness. We were trekking, trekking, and then we parted company to go about our individual missions. Sheila's inn was sheer luxury compared to that! There was a sad feeling we might never see each other again.

I asked whether we had had any other historic connections, but nothing came. I mention this to show that one also draws blanks or the answer 'no' during such investigations, even against one's preference. When I checked to see whether we had ET connections, Tulki changed form into a sparky, light-filled ET form, just for a flash, as if to say "How could you think otherwise?!"

Every Sunday evening, I regularly meditated, linking up with the Nine and the 'Monkeys'M. Sheila stayed downstairs. One day, I felt Tulki sitting, embryo-size, cross-legged in my hands, wrapped in lama's robes. At first, it was a surprise – I hadn't 'called' him. The quality of his meditation was B and stable – it made my restless mind feel so distracted, jumpy and boomy! He hopped back and forth between Sheila and myself – this meditation business was very exciting to him. He wanted his mum to join in too.

At another time, Sheila got the impression Tulki was ignoring her. He was inwardly yelling "Daddee! Daddee!" at times, whenever I approached. This was a little disturbing. I had a talk with Tulki one night while Sheila was asleep. Something was giving him reservations over fully embracing her. I told him she loved him and he would need her: things were now different from his last life – women would be important. They would possibly influence and inspire him more than men, given the state of things today. I reminded him his monkish days were over – he had joined us to seek a more eclectic life. I recommended him to love, trust and support his mother – he wouldn't find one better! He fully considered the matters I raised with him. Things warmed up over the ensuing days, and the coolness evaporated. His response was noticeable.

A couple of months later, something else emerged: Tulki seemed to have had about six lives on Earth, and in all of these lives he had, for various cultural reasons, been removed from his mothers shortly after birth – he thus did not know what a proper maternal relationship is. By this time, he and his mum were canoodling and loving each other warmly during private 'nesting' sessions. At one stage, when communicating with him, I found myself crying on his behalf. He said: "Mummeee, don't ever hand me over, don't ever send me away!" "We won't, Tulki, you're staying here with us, and we are here for each other".

There were times when I went inside the womb just to be with him, imaginally. Up to about 18 weeks' pregnancy, he wasn't fully there, in occupation of his body. He was, as it were, connected by a link between the foetus and his soul 'up there'. When talking, it was his soul I was communicating with. Sometimes Sheila was in simultaneous contact with the foetus – at times she would fall into a baby state, flapping her arms and lightly twitching in a baby-like way. There follows an account of this by Sheila.

I was watching Star Trek with Palden and I suddenly got extremely wimpy and wobbly and got Palden to come over to the sofa to cuddle me. I was drifting off – but it wasn't like falling asleep. I've experienced this a few times in this pregnancy and it's a bit like being taken over. I had two layers of consciousness running at the same time – mine and the baby's. Except I was the baby. I was aware that I was with my daddy, feeling very, very vulnerable. I knew he would be patient and wouldn't leave me until I felt better, whereas if it was my mum I might have to try crying tactics to get her to notice my neediness. But daddy didn't have the comfort-breasts mummy had.

I tried to wave to my daddy. My hand lifted up and I could feel my fingers from the inside, trying to stretch out. I wiggled them a bit and after a while I realised that, if I could wiggle them all at the same time, then that would be a proper wave. Then I rested and later on I could feel that mummy wanted to come back and so I waved to daddy to say goodbye, and I reckoned he would understand. This went on over about 20 minutes. When I came round, I was very spaced-out. Palden, of course, had understood that something was going on and had understood the waving – he could see that my hand was in water and that I was having to push against it when I moved. The baby was educating me in what it is like to be a baby – that it is necessary that I truly appreciate the vulnerability and the need to communicate and be close.

More information came out over time. It turned out that Tulki had worked for the Tibetan government, perhaps in the 1920s, though he was circumspect about it. He had been an advisor and emissary. I saw him in council rooms, discussing weighty matters. Then I saw him on horseback in dark red wraps, travelling along a mountain road-path. He had a feeling of gravitas and worldliness which I couldn't fully equate with his lamaistic image. At one stage I saw him in the richer silk robes of Tibetan high officials – I couldn't figure all this out.

One day, we invited Marion to visit. She was a healer and friend who had taken ordination as a Buddhist nun. After 'opening up' the channel to Tulki for her, she tuned in, and experienced a great sadness in connection with Tulki. I got the feeling that, through her, he was fully coming to terms with the tragedy of today's Tibet – occupied by the Chinese in the 1950s. He was perhaps attuning to the patient barrenness Tibetans must feel. Tulki, in his sagacious lama-aspect, encouraged Marion in her chosen life-path, saying that she was 'right on-track'.

Marion mentioned that the Dalai Lama would visit Britain in July 1996 – at this, Tulki got very excited. "He's my friend! You must take me to him! Take me!". "Hang on, Tulki, you'll only be a few weeks old!" "I must see him – he's my friend!" He had said the lamas would not be looking for him – he was insufficiently important and they wouldn't be expecting him. We later wrote to the lamas, and I promised Tulki we would reconnect him with them.

Sheila sometimes encountered physical difficulties. She would lay down and I would do some healing, intuitively invoking the Tibetan deities Chenrezig, Padmasambhava and Tara. This seemed to help a lot. Light would cascade down through me into Tulkitoes. The mantras would boom and echo quite vividly. He liked that, always responding. On occasions, he gave pertinent teachings and advice to Sheila, helping her get through an inner breakthrough. At one stage he said: "Where's my grandpa?" Sheila's parents were in the process of moving from Northumberland to Glastonbury – it wouldn't surprise me if Don were an old Tibetan himself. At another time, Tulki indicated that he wanted to meet our friends Ivan Macbeth (he gave the image of Ivan as a sort of bishop – perhaps Nestorian?) and Sig Lonegren (Sig and he were galloping wildly on horses, laughing and having great fun). Tulki also hinted that six children were being born in Glastonbury for related purposes to his – will they know each other?

In January, Sheila and I were busy facing some hard realities, concerned about money and the future. Tulki also came through with great sadness and dread. He was realising life was going to be more difficult than he had thought. He had realised that the world is not spiritually-oriented: we were on a minority path, against the wind. In Tibetan society, spirituality lay at the core of their culture, however sclerotic it might have been. He was feeling downhearted, fearing loss of consciousness at birth, loss of memory of his identity and purpose. This was heart-wrenching. We could feel the grating of his sensitivities with the harsh blatancy of today's world. He wanted to end the birth-process and 'go home'. His spirit was sinking. His experience was densifying.

I talked assuringly, agreeing that life is indeed difficult, though somehow manageable: "After all, Tulki, your mum and dad have remembered, even though there have been long times we've forgotten. Remember you have chosen life for a reason, Tulki. The world will change during your lifetime, and we are doing things to help it..." "But daddee, I could lose my way!". "Well, Tulki, I've lost my way too, but I keep on coming back – and that's what life is about! It is difficult, Tulki – our world is approaching a great reckoning. You have come for that, and if we succeed, it's going to be a wonderful place." I was crying – we all were crying, deep down. Though we were privileged to live in Glastonbury, a holy place, life in the 1990s nevertheless has a tragic aspect.

We had another crisis on Sunday 18th February, around new moon. Sheila wasn't well – she was becoming distraught. She lay down. I emptied myself – Tulki's protectors would have to handle this. I sensed he needed help with something he couldn't manage on his own. As soon as I opened up, energy-light cascaded through me like a torrent, through the top of my head to my hands, flooding Tulki's dome-home with sparkling stardust. I had bridged a gap in an energy-chain. I was overwhelmed, shaking. Sheila soon felt better. Wow! Within hours, Tulki made his first noticeable movement: we had gone through a critical shift. He had entered his body. From now on, he was a baby-soul – no longer a timeless soul in the 'intermediate state'. From now, he tangibly 'plopped around' inside Sheila. His voice changed – it was unmistakably a baby's mind and voice speaking from then on.

Later, Sheila felt out-of-sorts, and I tuned in. "I want tell something my mum, but she not open!" "Well, tell it to me, then, Tulki." "No, it not for you, daddee." I encouraged Sheila to tune in to Tulki – she was in her busy working mode and resisted for a week. But Tulki disturbed her nighttime dreams so much that she finally gave in and 'went inside'. She came up with some news. This is her report.

I saw high, rough mountains and a battle. There were Chinese warriors in old-fashioned outfits, on horseback. They were on the run. One of the warriors was badly wounded in his rear end and came off his horse. A Tibetan lama emerged from behind some rocks and pulled him to safety.

Then I saw a mean little hut. On the left was a bed with the Chinese soldier in it. At first I thought Tulki was telling me he was the lama, but he kept saying "Chineeese!". The Chinese man was stockily built and the lama was tall and aesthetic-looking. The lama nursed the Chinaman and sent a woman in with healing herbs for his wounds. The Chinaman couldn't get over the fact that the lama took care of him and didn't turn him in, and he was very gentle and kind. The Chinaman inherently knew that here in Tibet there was something he was seeking, and he 'understood'. From there, I think, Tulki became a lama – but he didn't actually give me any more detailed information.

When Sheila recounted this to me, I 'saw' much of the unfolding scenario too. Tulki stayed with the lama for perhaps a year – he was disabled, lying there, looking over at the lama, who was sitting at his studies. I simultaneously 'got' several B images and bits of information. It was around 1910 or so – the time of the first Chinese revolution. Tracking back in time, I saw him dressed in smart silken Manchu imperial clothing, proud and aristocratic. He was in the Forbidden City, involved in court matters. There was an older man there, perhaps an uncle, a chief minister or court adviser, regarded as very wise – Tulki was following in his footsteps. The old man's word was highly respected. I picked up the name Khang – I later wondered if this was the moderate court adviser Prince Ch'ing of Boxer Rebellion times.

Back to the lama's hovel. There was a sense of no going back – the Manchu dynasty had fallen. Later researches revealed that there had been a diversionary Manchu campaign launched from Szechuan two years before the revolution, aiming to gain military control of Tibet. Tulki was presumably involved in this. Yet while at the lama's, Tulki had undergone an inner change, falling in love with Tibetan life and understanding the hollowness of Manchu court life, now gone forever. He had been Chinese! High-born, something like a senior army officer. Yet his life was utterly changed, and there he was lying in a hut, helpless in foreign parts.

Then I saw them journeying. Tulki was going to Lhasa. He was welcomed – he had by now found new meaning in his life. I saw him at the Potala, in grave discussions about the Chinese. Plans were being hatched. Then I saw him on expeditions, dressed as a lama – was this disguise or genuine? He was carrying out missions, trekking, meeting people and fixing things. Then I glimpsed him, some time later, being honoured by the Tibetans for his actions. He had a chatty relationship with the Dalai Lama. He was now at peace with himself – he could now retire to a monastic life. Some years of study and meditation followed. I saw him going out leading a party to meet a visiting high lama. He had been initiated into the teachings on the stages of death and rebirth – which he clearly was applying now.

Tulki had lived two lives in one! Half a life as a Manchu, and half as a Tibetan. He had presented the Tibetan half first, perhaps wary of letting us know about the Manchu half. Perhaps he feared we might be disappointed – in fact, it explained many things. He had to tell his mum, since my historical knowledge might interfere in transception. However, all this new input completed the picture. Sheila had once reported that he would work to help Tibet find its freedom. Now we understood why she had said that.

At Easter 1996, we arranged a gathering for the 'Monkeys' in Derbyshire. This was Tulki's first big trip away. I remember feeling him scanning the busy motorway as we drove up – excited and apprehensive. I had told him what would be happening. Later, as twenty-seven of us sat there, 'working the circle', he was quite keyed-up, very attentive. The summer before, he had watched this process at work 'from above', and now he was witnessing it on the human level! It was very different! He was sampling the deep pathos involved in circle-working, scanning each individual as they held the talking-stick and spoke their truth.

He was quite fazed by the work involved: we were sharing deep human life-issues. This was different from Tibetan meditaion and ritual. The circle later focused on Ulster. Tulki was a little frustrated: why weren't we working for Tibet? "I love Tibet, you love Tibet, yet it is just one problem of many, Tulki. We're in a mess today, all over the world. It's not quite right for it right now. I promise we'll do something for Tibet one day." He seemed to accept that.

The next day, a funny thing happened. Sheila said her piece, then she passed the stick to me. I spoke a little on Ulster, then I found myself talking about Tulki and the crisis he had had when he discovered that life was going to be tricky. I described his sadness, and how it had made us aware of the pain involved in assuming a life on Earth. Afterwards, Sheila whispered: "Thanks. That's what Tulki wanted me to say, but I didn't get it out. He can now understand more of the mess of the world, and that what we're doing is hard work. This had been upsetting him earlier." By the third day of the gathering Tulki was tired: he had to rest. There was little movement from him that day! Sheila sat heroically through the proceedings, hands resting on a bulging stomach, making pertinent contributions without Tulki's 'pressure from within'.

I find it uncanny how much Tulki seems to take after me. Sheila first pointed this out. Like me, part of him seems something of a hermit – one night I had 'met' him happily standing alone amidst a vast wilderness – and part seems to be a public figure. Part is religious and part a warrior. Irrespective of his warrior past, he feels like a gentle soul. He clearly wants to get on with it. At one stage I had to dissuade both Sheila and Tulki from wishing the pregnancy would end, encouraging them to savour all the stages properly. Once, I saw a flash of him as a 17-year old – he seemed to handle it well. He seemed already to possess a clear identity.

In mid-April, Sheila had a bout of feeling ill-at-ease. She felt that Tulki was not around. After a couple of days he told her, "I'm meditating with the lamas in India". This may explain why she had then wanted to go out for a curry for the first and only time during the pregnancy!

After Easter, Sheila spent time dozing and reading in bed, now released from work. I thundered away on book manuscripts on my computer. On Saturday 13th April, I 'went in' to visit Tulki again. Sheila had wondered whether something was amiss, yet it turned out that her odd feelings were his way of getting attention. He and I chatted a little. Then a transformation happened. Suddenly it was Khang – a very B overlighting presence. He talked to Sheila, through me, about the need to stabilise her emotional changes by anchoring to her inner 'taproot'. This would help her be less pulled-around by life's changes. It was quite a discourse. Then he went away, and I moved into Tulki's baby-mode – an entirely different feeling. It was here that Tulki told us he had never loved his mother before. "I do... love you, mummeee, you love me. We all... love us, lots!" Tears were streaming down my face. My voice was babyish. "I suck thumb – and I found nose!" We cuddled and crooned.

On Sunday 21st April 1996, Sheila wanted a 'session'. The sessions were changing: I was now dealing with two related entities – Tulki and Khang. Khang was now taking on the form of a more multidimensional being – not just a sagacious Manchu. It was clear that Tulki's Sino-Tibetan past was but one outer layer of an onion. We were getting a sense our lives all interweaved in a larger shared plot. As I 'went in', I went to Tulki first. He was concerned that his story was not being told. I said it was 'in process', and that we must be careful to get it right. He accepted that. In general, Tulki was happy. He said that he had recently visited a kind of inner mystery school where he had been getting further teachings and preparations. He had needed extra input before getting born.

Khang came through. "Send support within to your midwife. Things are getting deep for her. She does holy work, yet others do not recognise it." Then there was a long, deep gap. Then I found myself chanting the Tibetan mantra of the Green Tara – Om Tare Tare Tuttare Toré So-ha – in a deep resonant voice, three times. It vibrated Sheila's stomach. She was being bathed in a rich emerald light.

An utterly new voice came in – Khang had connected it into the circuit. "You are being connected up to a new frequency. This involves a certain acceptance. If you can allow yourself to be treated, we can help you to enter a new chapter in your life. It is necessary to insert correct receptors. If you can allow..." There was a pause. "Thank you." Addressing Sheila: "Do remember your home, where you come from. You bear a gift from your home in this child. This is to augment your purpose. Much has already been put in place. Now this next stage is coming into place. This is of significance for you and your service – bearing this child. This is part of a group circle of old friends. Do understand, we overlook you. You have good support. Do receive this. You are in a conflict, and you may master it if you so choose. We know you, we are with you, we are of your home...".

Our neighbour's dog barked, and there was a pause. Then there was another switch. I felt different. I started gently mumbling wordless noises. Sheila was restless, and we moved her to a more comfortable position. I went back 'in'. It took time to stabilise the link. It was Khang – yet the instability of the link made it necessary to focus only on essential information. He passed me over to Tulki. Tulki expressed his love, and then commented a recent visit from a friend, Sue, and her toddler son Zak, a fine little man.

Zak was at the stage where he was trying everything out – which makes visiting friends something of an encounter-session! However, he was creating no damage, and Sheila was impressed with Sue's non-neurotic approach. Tulki wanted to talk about this. In his by now characteristic one-word-at-a-time language, he said the following. "Mummeee... you promise you listen me, I promise listen you. We listen. Good. You watch Zakzak – he teach you. He teach you of bigger me! I listen you and you listen me too, and we good two people listen – it work. I try tell you, and if [you] hear me I help you. If you not hear me, then I tell more you. If you not listen I... must... hurt... no, like hurt, you. And, me, if I not listen-hear you, you can like-hurt me. At Zakzak time!". He was seeking to assure Sheila that it would be alright when he was Zak's age. "You promise me, me promise you, we listen...". Tulki had detected Sheila's anticipation over toddlerhood – he was offering a deal. What next?

"Zakzak, he know me, me know Zakzak. We not met." I think he was saying that they had not met in a previous life. "Zakzak in same... ummm... coming-in reason, yes, same... plan. We nodnod, Zakzak, me. We meet more people... like him Zakzak, please, you meet me more people, mummee. They show next... bit." Tulki was clearly quite aware of people, from within his dome-home – and he wanted to meet more youngsters.

He then referred to an earlier conversation between Sheila and myself. We had wondered whether we were sufficiently attentive to Tulki – recently we had been preoccupied with other matters. Tulki commented: "You sometimes not listen. Yes. And, too, you [also] listen. This make me happy [when] you listen. You listen, it good. You know many mamas not listen very... you listen... I happy. You try. You worry you not listen. You [do] listen, we talk. Listen [to] my friends [such as Zak] – they teach you, mama."

On Wednesday 1st May, Khang came through. He informed us he himelf had died in 1922. Tulki had been the fourth in line to the Manchu throne, after Pu Yi, the last of the line. His genealogy would be found in Manchuria. This might be valuable to trace in later life, though not now. He said there would be many changes for us in the coming five years. Tulki's education would be important. On a graver note, Khang said Tulki is carrying an historic 'thread'. He and Khang were going to continue to attempt to insert this thread into the soul of China. It was a small but vital energy-thread to China, to Tibet and the world. Most of the world's population would not be aware of it. It concerns a spiritual gift from Tibet to China, contributing to restoring China's long-lost national soul. The thread was like a fuse in a circuit. First, there would be a risk that China might try to threaten the world – difficult times ahead would constitute a precondition for the inserting of the fuse-thread. This was not of concern to us now. Apparently, the thread could have been activated in 1759 – the opportunity was missed, partially sabotaged. Had the circuit been made at this time, world history would have been different, not in the state of global risk it is in now. When Tulki is 23, there would be a new leader (the given word was 'emperor') in China. They would know each other. This could 'lift the curse'.

A week later, on 8th May, I went inside to visit Tulki. This is what I reported. It's like a little world inside. He has given me images of what it's like. In one, there was a really bright glow, which was the light of sunshine coming through your stomach wall. There was another where he showed that the stomach contains a whole world, a world or sphere or realm of its own, not just a physical container – it's a kind of bubble enclosing a different world, very insulated from ours. It was rather like a 'tardis', much bigger inside than outside. The dimensionality of this snug world was quite profound. He's very happy. He feels we understand. Sometimes we're switched off, but that doesn't matter. We've taught him to become more patient – he's realised that things do work through. That's funny, because patience is the very quality he had developed well, yet when he came into being a baby he experienced impatience. He went through a time of forgetting his past, so wrapped up was he in the new experiences of being a baby – then he remembered his patience-quality again. Another image: he can push his feet against the edges of his world! It somehow reminded me of the image of Atlas.

Khang. He's very grateful we listen. Hmmm. Tulki was 32 when he went to Tibet. This was known of by many people back in China, that he had gone over. Some regarded him as a traitor. But then, so many people were regarded as traitors just then. 1541... that was the time when we all first met. That's an extra insight into the threads we were talking about before. There is generally no more that we need to know about his other lives for now. Khang then spoke directly rather than passing impressions: "We will always be behind you. Ask and we shall be with you. You may keep this channel open, though preferably on a need-to-know basis. Do it when this soul is asleep."

Sheila asked (through me) what had happened when, earlier that day, she had suddenly experienced great discomfort and distress while lying in bed. "He got his foot on the source of the [umbilical] cord. This created complications. It is not usual. Thank you, we resolved it. It helped that you moved. These things happen! We appreciate your steadfastness and your intent in what you are doing for your Tulkitoes. We too are not clear on the question of a name and we hope you will find one which is good. We do not know your societal considerations as you do, which is what seems to be the consideration here. However we are happy with your friend-name Tulkitoes – it suits. You shall travel – please bear this in mind. You may all three travel a long way, in many ways. It's about communication: you have a lot to communicate. This is the beginning of something. We are happy that it is a bring-together of many valuable threads. We thank you."

I then spent some time in Tulki's world, just being with him. I felt Sheila's arm moving backwards and forwards – she later told me he was waving to me through her. Then I felt a need to close down the channel. Tulki didn't want me to go. I explained that I couldn't stay in here with him, much as I would like to. It was very peaceful. I had a little chat with him. He had become aware of our adult responsibilities and concerns. I reminded him he was going to be a child first, and that our adult concerns weren't for him. I encouraged him to make the most of childhood, to create himself from the beginning and go through the necessary childhood stages. We would work together to support him, wherever he needs to go, whatever he needs to do. I sent that message through to Khang as well. I felt a very B affirmation of a kind of network of energy, of which Khang is a coordinator and we are 'grounders'.

When I 'came out', Sheila and I chatted. It felt as if this pregnancy inner work was drawing to its conclusion. Tulki was a human baby now – not a spirit-soul. Sheila was spending a lot of quiet-time with him, cuddling and holding him within her, sharing existence on his terms. At night, during my pre-sleep chats with him, I had been imaginally giving him body-massages, 'body-feels'. He liked that – it brought him into his body to feel 'sensations'.

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© Palden Jenkins, 1996. All of these articles are copyright. They may individually be copied and shared with others in a spirit of knowledge-sharing and fair play, but they may not be sold, printed or reproduced in quantity or changed in form without the permission of the copyright holder. Magazine and other editors may e-mail me for permission to reprint. E-mail: