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

In a communication on 12th May, Tulki started off saying he could now stick his finger up his nose, play with his eyes and internally feel his toes and touch the top of his head – though I sensed this wasn't entirely intentional movement. I saw again how light and golden it could be within Sheila's stomach. He said he had been able to hear the birds in Butleigh woods (which we had visited earlier that day) as well as other sounds – some of which seemed very strange. He had developed a technique of reading Sheila's reactions, to assess whether a sound was threatening or not. With some noises he felt the urge to fight back. He could project his will outwards, to deal with some people and things – he wanted us to note that he wasn't entirely helpless and vulnerable. There was even a hint of boyish glee at this – most people lacked control of their unconscious and are not adept at functioning on this level. This was what he did in situations where he felt a confrontation with outside reality. He could also pick up images from Sheila's mind – he had seen images of Wells cathedral, which Sheila had visited that day. He gave me an image of the sea, seen from the shore – I'm not sure why.

Then there was a pause and a shift. Consciously I went much deeper. I suddenly received the Arabic name Abu Bakr (or something like that). Later I also got something like Ater Beg (that's a more Turkic name). I got an image of Samarkand (or somewhere like that) and of a place with a name like 'Ashkaran' where researches and observations of the heavens were done. I was seeing a student, assistant or apprentice. Life was hard, disciplined, but very cultured. The student was Tulki – in another life. I saw him sitting doing lots of computations, studying at great length – rather like the long, concentrated work-sessions I do. There was a dispute going on between younger and older scholars, over something to do with the computations of planetary movements for Mars and Venus. The new computations younger scholars had produced were clearly not accepted – Tulki supported and was part of the new school. I asked what the meaning of this was. The issue was that in his life in the Manchu court in China, the knowledge promulgated there was false and empty, a matter of tradition and form – this was what had attracted Tulki to the Tibetans when circumstances took him that way – the Tibetans worked with valuable knowledge which affected the conditions and happiness of the people. The usefulness of knowledge was the issue here in Samarkand: unlike China, it was good, useful knowledge, though it was not shared with the people as in Tibet. At Ashkaran they were on a frontier of knowledge, yet it was isolated, an ivory tower. I sensed there was more to go into here, but it was inappropriate to do so – I was being given glimpses only.

Pause. I was now in Africa, looking down from above, at a big, wide, impressive landscape with mountains stretching down to a plain. There were lots of men with spears and shields, pouring down a road down the escarpment, running in step at a steady trot, keyed up, on a war mission. They were tall and noble, Masai-like. There was excitement in the air, yet also a feeling that these men were simply acting out a tradition, as if victims of history. I asked what the purpose of this vision was. It was to demonstrate that Tulki had learned about the futility of war in this African life, and yet somehow, while he had remembered this when he was young in China, he had allowed himself to be obligated into a military role, failing to correct it until later in his life. This had been a source of regret for him – yet the lamas had pointed out that without his military involvement, he would not have come to Tibet. He would probably have stayed within the imperial court instead. This was one reason why he wanted to be born with us – he felt he could now reaffirm that he could learn a lesson first time. The business of war is important to him in his life today – it deeply matters to him. He has something to achieve here – the ending of war is what he wants to contribute to. The training of the warrior must take another, more fruitful direction. The feuding in Africa (perhaps Kenya?) was just madness, unnecessary. People were getting carried away, losing perspective. He felt he had wasted his time in that life – the whole atmosphere of it wasn't right, pursuing false ideas, squabbling over pride and status – though he himself was just going along with the conventional wisdom of his people. He had realised that majorities of people weren't inherently right because they were majorities. Pause.

We were now in some sort of spacecraft. It was a time of exile. They were going away from a place they had to leave, relieved yet sad, toward an unknown destination. They were the ones who had left while it was still possible. Many others had not agreed with or believed them, and had resisted their departure. Their departure involved going against authority or consensus. Yet a crisis had already started on the planet, and they had ruefully left it all behind. The issue here concerned the capacity of people to be of one mind, yet to omit to practise vigilance, and to fall into step without questioning why. The exiles were the fortunate ones – they had sense, they could see. There was a feeling of empty tragedy amongst the exiles, yet there was hope for the future, even though they knew not what was to unfold. Nevertheless, unknowns were better than the hopelessness they had felt before. It seemed that this life was the defining experience which caused him to choose to come to planet Earth. He came to focus on questions like this, to help make it a place where these questions of collective behaviour could be worked through – Earth being a place where universal questions could be worked out in a concentrated space. Many of his people had chosen to come to Earth by incarnating here. The hundreds of souls he had originally come with to Earth were separated now, intermingled with humanity – many of them had by now forgotten why they came. I was told that Sheila and I are not of those people. This vision was of no great importance except inasmuch as it was a major defining experience.

Tulki intimated he first came to the world in the 1200s. He seemed to have had his first Earth life in the area of Syria, Palestine and Jordan – then a united landscape. In that context I (Palden), in a life as the sultan Salah-ad-Din (Saladin), had already died in 1193: I was, by Tulki's time, something of a fairytale figure whose deeds were regarded as exemplary, recounted to children as they grew up. Tulki thus knew of me nearly 800 years ago! I saw Tulki growing up in the streets of (perhaps) Damascus. I asked him to get to the meaning of this. He flashed me a picture of the desert. He had grown up ordinarily, quite happily, yet something was missing. He had found truth in the desert. It was as if the spirit had spoken to him, as if he remembered his purpose. This information about his life in Syria placed a starting point in his trans-incarnational story – the core issue of this Syrian life was to accustom himself to Earth life. In later years he became a sheikh (community leader) within one of the local Muslim groupings (perhaps the Druze?). He led a beneficent life as a patron, an adjudicator of disputes, a practitioner of religious and social law and as a spiritual influence.

It felt right to leave the visions there – we had been given enough and I found it quite exhausting. I was given a B feeling that Tulki had lived six lives on Earth – and we had been given information on three of them. Inwardly, I then returned to Tulki the baby. He confirmed he was well and happy, especially now we were communicating again. "My mama doesn't need to worry – she knows it is alright." He said he felt lucky to be in there in her tummy rather than in our world out here. He also felt lucky to have two very conscientious parents – he had gradually become aware that this was unusual. He was quite happy for me to 'leave' him now. I thanked him for the visions – they had been very vivid. I also got a sense that this was the last of the communications, which bewildered me. What we would do in the ensuing month before the expected birth date I couldn't tell. The answer was to come quite soon.

On Monday 20th May I woke up with a fearful feeling of depression. I got up and immediately started vacuum-cleaning downstairs, before even having my routine cup of tea. I was furious over many different aspects of my life which seemed to be getting nowhere – my mid-life worries were coming up! "After all I've done, where have I got to?" After cleaning up, I sat out in the garden fuming to myself, and Sheila emerged. Telling her about it all helped. Little did we know that this was a sign: something in my unconscious knew something.

The medical due-date for Tulki's birth was 6th June. A dowser friend's estimate was 13th June. On perusing the astrological possibilities, I estimated 16th-18th June. Sheila's instinctive estimate was 18th June – she felt he would avoid a multiple line-up of five planets in Gemini on 16th June, the newmoon, sensing he might choose a Cancer moon, to anchor him somewhat to his mother. I agreed that this would make some sense, knowing what we did of him. It turned out that all of these estimates were wrong! Except that Sheila was partially correct: he was indeed born with Sun in Gemini and a Cancer Moon, but we hadn't reckoned that, this year, there would be two instances where this combination was to happen! This was unusual.

On the morning of Tuesday 21st May I awoke from sleep to find a restless Sheila. Something was going on. At this point, Sheila is the best person to describe what happened.

I woke at 4.45am with a feeling of dampness. "Uhuh", I thought. I had period-like pains too, and sciatica down my left leg. This was odd, since when I get sciatica it usually runs down my right leg. I struggled downstairs to the loo. There was a fair bit of water and a little bit of blood. The pain was dreadful, but it wasn't regular or very spaced out, as I imagined labour pains to be. I made a cup of tea and then tried to get back to bed. Lying down was agony and I was tearful and frightened. Palden didn't want to wake up. I got up again. Walking around was the only way of easing the pain. I tried to wake Palden again but he just said that it wasn't labour, it was too early, and to try to get some sleep. I went back downstairs and tried to sit down but that was impossible. At 7.00am Palden came downstairs, ready to help me through whatever was going on. Palden adds: at a quiet moment, I consulted within, seeking Khang. He had six or seven others with him – they seemed to be doctors (whom I had seen briefly once before). They did a few things with Sheila, but they seemed to be quite satisfied and confident. I got a 'get on with it' impression.

Palden talked me through the pains. The best way of dealing with them was to lean my hands on the ends of the armchair and bend and sway. There was a B Chinese presence. I felt as if I was Tulki's last mother going through her labour – she was unhappy and having a hard time. I got fed up and told her to do her own labour and not to try to get me to do it for her! I was making Chinese-sounding noises too, to help with the pains.

At 9.00am I rang the health centre but the midwife wasn't there. Not to worry. I rang again at 9.30. In the meantime I made an appointment with Marion, my cranio-sacral therapist, about the sciatica! The midwife and I connected at 10.30 and she came round at midday. Just before then, my friend Imla came round, listened to what was going on and just smiled and chuckled, with a glint in her eye: "You've started up, Sheila!". When the midwife came, she cuddled me and swayed with me through a contraction. I was definitely in labour. I shook and shook and was quite panicked. This was too early! I asked Palden if this meant that Tulki was to be a Taurean. At first he thought it did, but then he checked on the computer and lo! the Sun had just changed sign – and Tulki would be Gemini with a Cancer Moon! This was as we had predicted for June 18th, except we were a month out!

The midwife agreed to come back at 5.00pm. Palden and I scurried around making the living room ready. Well, I tried to scurry but I never got very far – the rushes were already only five minutes apart. That timing went from the beginning of one rush to the beginning of the next. They went in pairs – a B one followed by a weaker one. Palden rang Diana and Jane, who had agreed to attend the birth, and they came with Laura within an hour or so. Strangely, they were all free that day! Palden adds: I had invited Laura spontaneously. Five years old, she had been Marieka's closest friend when Marieka, one of my daughters, lived with us. The day before, whilst driving past our house, Laura had apparently told Jane that Tulki was coming – she drew some pictures to welcome him. Obviously Laura was more tuned into Tulki than anyone else!

As soon as Diana and Jane arrived, I was clinging to them for support. I was still frightened and shocked at the early start-up. Jane, particularly, was amazing – she seemed to empathise with me completely. It wasn't like she followed my pains by a split second – she went through them with me completely, knowing my experience and breathing me through it. The midwife was called again, as the contractions were now every two minutes. It could be happening quite soon.

Hours or minutes passed – I don't know which. I was bellowing primevally through the pains. I imagined the sea rolling – I pictured the pages about 'Labouring Women as an Elemental Force' from the book Spiritual Midwifery [by Ina May Gaskin and The Farm Midwives]. I had seen the picture of the sea in that book. It helped me tune into the wave-like sensation of the rushes. At one point I became like a mighty Su-mo wrestler, power-rocking around on the futon for a long time, making guttural oriental noises. I was, at this point, completely in charge of my experience. Jane, Diana and the midwife sat around and we all laughed. I passed Angel cards around. Tulki drew 'Synthesis'.

I then said I wanted to pooh. What I meant was that I wanted pooh to come out, but the midwife read from this that I wanted to push pooh out [she took that as a sign the birth would be imminent]. A quick phonecall was made to the second mid-wife to come. There was much busying with getting towels ready. I tried pushing but it didn't feel right. I felt ashamed that I perhaps didn't want to give birth to my baby. Poor little Tulki – I didn't want to have him! I felt bad about this. I was getting absolutely nowhere. I had an anterior lip, it turned out, so it was stop time. Tea and sandwiches for everyone but me (!). Then I was in the bath – I thought I'd like it but actually it was horrid. I felt dreadfully constricted. And cold.

Back on dry land, shivering, I was off into Su-mo again. But this time it was getting really hard. I remember going onto all fours and digging my head into Palden's lap, grinding my hands into anything of his I could find, and screaming with agony while I shoved my bum in the air. Apparently, this was nature's way of slowing the baby down so that I could get the lip out of the way. God, it was taking a long time, though! Then someone else took over. Jane? I was way spaced out now. I just remember asking Palden to draw the curtains as it was getting dusk. Then later he was there again, whispering to me that it wouldn't be long now because Sagittarius would soon be rising over the ascendant and for the last few hours it had been Scorpio – it all made sense, as we instinctively knew that Tulki wouldn't have Scorpio rising. Thank God I was at home and not in hospital! I kept worrying, making sure I looked to the midwives as if I was managing okay, so that they wouldn't suggest going to hospital. But I had all the thoughts: give me an epidural! Where's the pethidine? and so on!

Sometimes Palden would refer to Tulki and to the psychic experiences we'd had – but I just didn't want to know. I just wanted him to hold that space and let me and the women get on with what we were put here to do. A couple of times he put his hands over my tummy and did some energy-work – that really helped a lot. I could have done with that all the time!

Palden writes: It had looked as if Sheila might pop by late afternoon. However, this was premature. True to pattern, she and Tulki were rushing to get it over with! But the final stage wasn't coming – Sheila was encouraged to push, but it wasn't working. I felt there was more time to go. That was when I consulted the computer. This posed a classic astrologers' dilemma – what do you do when the 'client' doesn't want to hear 'bad' news? It was clear to me there would be a 3-4 hour period with little progress, while Scorpio was on the ascendant. I just knew Tulki wouldn't have Scorpio rising. I kept quiet for a while and eventually told Sheila. This clicked something for her, and she relaxed in her accumulating feelings of mother-inadequacy.

Later, I reflected on a Tibetan teaching worth recounting here. The teachings on death and rebirth elucidate eight states of reality or bardos – waking life, dream-state, deep sleep, meditation/trance, dying, after-death (the intermediate state), pre-birth (pregnancy) and birth itself. Each of these states is experienced by the same soul, and each have equal status in the inner evolution of the soul – according to the Tibetans. This implies that the birth process itself possibly involves roughly the same magnitude of experience as the whole of a waking lifetime – our concepts of time apply only to the wakeful state. Inwardly, I gave a lot of attention to 'being with' Tulki while he was in the birthing state, during Sheila's labour. This was deeply rewarding, and it possibly helped Tulki feel inwardly supported and hand-held on his long journey – an infinity of time far outstretching the few hours it took. That experience of being squeezed, of making an act-of-will to get born, of getting to grips with the process itself, was all-important.

Sheila writes: After dark, everything changed and it was time to push. I sat back in a supported reclining position. If I went on all fours leaning on the sofa I really lost it – I think I needed people around me whom I could see. Or maybe I was remembering Fay's miscarriage which was done like that.

This went on for a long time. A lifetime. I think they tried changing my position but nothing worked well except this sitting position. Palden was on the sofa behind me. Everyone else was in a semicircle around me. The lighting was low. It took me a while to get the hang of this pushing – how to maximise on a contraction. At first I only got two pushes to each contraction, but near the end I was managing up to five. The midwife talked me through them quite often.

As time went on, no one spoke. As another contraction was brewing, they saw me change my state. The two helpers on my side raised me slightly and we all went into 'effort' together. Diana was sitting like a Buddha with her arms and hands open – meditatively holding the energy. Whenever I caught someone's eye, there was infinite compassion there. This was difficult to reconcile. There was such peace and patience emanating from all my supporters, yet I was experiencing a profound intensity of physical, mental and emotional exertion. I was sweating profusely. Such a contrast from the quietness around me! Laura was asleep in the corner of the room. Her breathing and child-snoring was a great comfort – all those alpha-waves oozing into the room. I didn't know whether or not I was doing well. I kept asking. They kept saying yes. The pain was intense. How could it take the baby so long to come down such a short distance? Surely he's crowning? That excruciating pain I'm feeling has to be him crowning? But no-one told me and I didn't ask – better not to be disappointed.

The voices around me spoke in such hushed tones. Then the midwife was saying "Beautiful baby... beautiful baby...", and the others were making awestruck sounds – but still no one said he was actually coming. They tried to make me put my fingers inside to feel his head, which I did do, but it felt wet and I didn't like it. I found out later that Tulki had been crowning all the time – I was learning to hold him in position with each contraction rather than letting him drop back. Thus the perineum could stretch a tiny bit more each time.

Suddenly his head was out, but it still hurt! Another push, then the shoulders were out – and, guess what?! no more pain! There was a screaming, slippery, slithery thing on my tummy and I didn't know what to do with it! I thought I'd feel great rushes of mother-love at this point, but I didn't. I just felt knackered, shocked at the whole business, and not quite ready to have a live baby to look after. Palden writes: Sheila was really 'out of it', shell-shocked. Everyone was blissful, crooning over this beautiful baby – this had started when a sprig of hair had stuck out while he was crowning. He was genuinely beautiful. Time was warping madly.

Twenty minutes went by, and then the midwife cajoled me into getting up. "Come on, Sheila, you know what we agreed." They had agreed to cut the umbilical cord after birthing the placenta]. So I stood up as they lay the baby on the floor. A couple of pushes and the placenta was out in one whoosh and very little blood-loss. Then I sat down again – finished! I'd done my bit. Over to everyone else! Palden took Tulki and cut the cord and did whatever else needed to be done – dressing him? [Actually, everyone was doing things, but Sheila wasn't taking it all in!] Then everything went quiet and the lights were very low and Diana had Tulki in her arms, wrapped in a shawl, and I was laid on the sofa. I tried feeding Tulki a bit. People from next door came to see the baby – it was like I imagined visitors to Jesus in the stable. [They had actually been following the sounds coming through the wall, and they were deeply moved to be able to see the end-result!] Then I was in the bath with Palden looking after me. Getting out of the bath, I was very shaky and panicky and thought I was going to die. I needed homeopathic Aconite, but I didn't have any.

The midwives, Jane and Laura went home. Diana, Palden and I talked quietly and ate soup. I took Tulki again and Palden and I marvelled over this little miracle of life, this little living Buddha who'd come to share his life with us.

Tulki was born at 22.44 BST. It was over. He was here. Now we were into another phase! From now on it was nappies, feeding times and big adjustments. I [Palden] was over the moon. I shared an inward nod and wink with Khang, and gave thanks to Spirit for the gift we were given, promising that we would do all we could for this little one to fulfil the purpose of his long journey. Glowing, we sat there for some time, chatting and being – and then Diana went home and we three went to bed!

Concluding thoughts
Throughout this saga, it feels as if we have been threading links between the worlds of before-birth and post-birth. Our intent was to bridge this transitional gulf and to aid Tulki's remembering of his purpose, as his life unfolds. Continuity of consciousness is a matter of deep choice, and I had discussed it quietly with Tulkitoes and Khang over the months, in half-thoughts, often at night. We were aware it would have its advantages and disadvantages in the modern world – remembering his purpose (or glimmers of it) would perhaps ease his later development, though it might also make parts of his life uncomfortable. Far-memory and sensitivity are not easy to carry in our day. When Tulki was six months old, I saw this in action: a friend was playing a Tibetan singing bowl to Tulki, and Tulki burst out in tears! He wanted to do it himself, and I could see he knew how to do it, yet his body was not ready to perform!

We had succeeded in setting up preconditions for such a remembering by laying filaments of thought and imagery between the past, present and future, and by discussing things with Tulki before birth. Tulki's world in there was intentionally interwoven with our world out here, reducing transition-shock – he was dying out of his world as well as being born into this one. All this in but a few hours yet, to him, a very long, timeless squeeze. We had created threads without which such a remembering might not succeed, except in the way many of us experience it – a remote yearning, a feeling that there is something we're here for, but God only knows what. This choice would affect us for the rest of our lives.

After some six weeks Tulki had already changed greatly. For the first week he didn't open his eyes much, but then he started looking around. At six weeks he looked searchingly at people and followed Sheila with his eyes when she walked past. For the first few weeks he had a grievous stomach difficulty, but that passed. We adults tend to disregard the sheer number of new adjustments a child must make – to breathing, body-sensations, stomach-activity, light, temperature and our own clumsiness! Tulki progressed well, a lovely presence. He liked the company of people too, though there were also signs that he enjoyed aloneness too. Many people have remarked that his smile is like a blessing – darshan – and that his presence was a privilege to them. Being so close to him, it was difficult to see this, yet as he has grown older I've become very aware that we were not given an ordinary child, and both Sheila and I feel blessed too. It's a responsibility though!

His registered names are Tulki Joe Yeshe – Tulki is his nickname, Joe a cover-name and Yeshe a Tibetan soul-name (wisdom). Once, I spontaneously called him Jokhang, the name of the main temple of Lhasa. However, he isn't Tibetan, and he needs an ordinary English name. Hence Joe.

In all these matters of psychic communication, the rational mind rattles on with the usual: this isn't really happening, this must just be imagination – what if we've got it all wrong? Indeed, this story sounds as if we've truly lost our marbles! It's easy to fall victim to the perceived judgements of others and to the skepsis of modern society. However, we choose to stay with our perceptions, experience and interpretation of it: change starts with isolated pioneers, judged often to be mad, and Sheila and I each have plenty of experience with that! Majority views don't constitute final truth. The healing of humanity's many ills surely starts with childbirth.

Only time will tell. There has been too much interlocking information, continuity and consistency to this communication process for it to be rationalised away as a fabrication. The responsibility involved counterbalances any wishful thinking we might have. Tulkitoes is behind all this – he has already started work. His first message is to demonstrate that humans are born with intelligence, knowledge and understanding – and a profound capacity to communicate. Babies are not a blank slate on which to inscribe our aspirations, conditioning and values.

It is a remarkable experience to get to know someone before their birth. It changes the whole agenda. As a result we know more of whom we're dealing with and what is needed. It's like weaving a psychic infrastructure, an energy-field for Tulki to walk into. At times one of us explains something to him, as a baby, and he visibly listens and absorbs it – the dialogue continues in a new way. Sometimes, even at 5-6 months, he would surprise us with a direct imitation of a word we had just said. Sometimes he listens intently to our adult conversations. Sometimes he visibly understands something said to him. And at other times he's just a little baby living a baby's life. When he wants to cry and struggle or to nuzzle and demand attention, that's his right and his need as a baby, and we accept it. At other times he lies there, gazing intently, just being, waving his arms and legs around in that characteristically weightless baby way. What a privilege to share this! We shall measure our pre-birth impressions of him against the unfolding realities of his life, holding his life-vision with him yet leaving him free to develop as he will. What we have been given is not without reason.

As a man, I've gained access to some inner secrets fermenting within a mother's womb. Women's internal experiences during gestation are, to a man – however empathic or imaginative he might be – a mystery. Yet to share these experiences has been a great gift – and our separate inner experiences with Tulki have interlocked and built up a parental psychological containing-field which feels B and valuable. This experience has bonded us all.

The Glastonbury midwives do many home-deliveries – they've even delivered kids out in fields and amidst the Glastonbury rock festival! They've midwifed many advanced souls, and they are to be praised for that. One, a Christian, had some reservations about our psychic communications yet, admirably, she did not allow her or our contrasting beliefs to obstruct the process. Both midwives were happy to use homeopathic remedies and to accept our gobbledegook. They deserve a medal – especially for doing this while working within the government health service (surely not a comfortable position to be in).

The illustrious Tulkitoes yanked us from within and drew us into his world. We've had a peep at what goes on in there, and it's many-dimensional. It involves the 'dreamtime', the 'intermediate state', far-memory of other lives, his own inner ruminations and also his experiences of our world through Sheila's tummy. During the pregnancy, Tulki was sometimes wrapped up in there in his own world or soul-travelling far away, and sometimes he was 'outward-facing', attuned to us and to events outside Sheila's tummy. Tulki has given us a great gift, above and beyond himself. We are much blessed. I pray his life is auspicious and rewarding, and that his and our choices pay off! Meanwhile, we three will do our very best. Thanks for sharing this journey with us. We share this with you in the hope that it may encourage you or others to develop conscious pre-birth links with children. A wholesome birth is so important! And the world needs the human end-results of it.

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