Alternate Timelines with Ian Vogel

Remembering Past Lives - My Life as a Japanese Hermit in the 18th Century | Reincarnation

• Ian Vogel • Episode 5

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Join me as I share my past life memory as an 18th century Japanese hermit. You might be surprised what you might have in common with a solitary monk and by how this story ends.

From a childhood on a rural farm to creating a remote mountain sanctuary, I reveal how trauma led to isolation and artistic recognition, culminating in a profound after-death realization: wisdom hoarded is wisdom wasted.

This experience fundamentally shaped my understanding of the power of human connection and why sharing knowledge matters.

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Hey, I’m Ian Vogel—host of Alternate Timelines. My journey started on a small farm in the midwest, where I always felt a little out of place. After years of skepticism and even a stint as an atheist, a near-death experience changed my perspective on everything. Since then, I’ve explored plant medicine, past life memories, and the mysteries of consciousness. Now, I’m sharing those experiences to help others navigate their own awakening. Through real stories, deep conversations, and wild explorations of the unknown, we’re building a community where it’s okay to question reality. You’re not alone in the unknown. 👽✨

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Oddly enough, the first thing I remember is floating up in the air, looking down at my own dead body. My corpse was laying on a flat piece of granite out in the open. There were a handful of candles lit around it, and seven people, and it was at that moment where I realized that I had made a big mistake. What is up? I'm Ian with alternate timelines, and today I'm gonna be sharing a story of a past life memory. This is the very first memory that came to me the very first time I did a self-guided past life regression meditation. We have all lived past lives and I'm very certain that most people have no idea just how much the experiences and the things that we've learned in our past lives influence us today from how we think to how we act, to how we relate to one another. Our unique personality traits, our quirks. These things didn't just appear out of nowhere. They're all a result of experiences that we've had in past lives. I have a very clear and distinct memory of being a Japanese hermit back in the 1700s Now, my life back then and my life now are very different. But there are some striking similarities, I believe that there is a very good reason that I remember this past life and other past lives because there are mistakes that I've made that I do not wanna repeat. So make sure that you listen all the way to the end because you might have more in common with a Japanese hermit from the 17 hundreds than you think. If you resonate with this comment, I invite you to like, share, subscribe, leave a comment, and leave a review on whatever platform you're on. It only takes a couple seconds and every little bit helps, the powers that be and the algorithms definitely don't push this kind of content. So I greatly appreciate any support that comes my way. After my funeral scene. The next thing I remember was being eight or nine years old and going to the city for the first time. I was born on a small farm in a very rural area. My family basically lived in abject poverty. My father was a hired hand on the farm, and my mother helped out when she could, but she spent most of her time looking after myself and my two younger sisters. This farm that I grew up on was incredibly beautiful. It was away from any densely populated areas or metropolitan centers in a very lush and serene place full of natural beauty. I absolutely loved it there. We grew vegetables, had rice patties. There were oxen to help with some of the field work. We had chickens As a small child, I just loved being outside. I loved being in nature. I loved being with the animals, and although we didn't own the farm, there were other people who worked there as well. So there were children that were my age that I could play with and that I basically grew up with and we were like family although the environment in the farm were amazing within our family dynamics, things weren't so great. My father was a degenerate gambler and drunk, and there were always issues. He always owed people money. He was always getting in trouble for being late to work. It was always something with him. Whenever he made money, he would spend it on things he didn't need for himself while neglecting my mother and myself and my sisters. It was a really unfortunate situation. And God bless my mother. She was our anchor. She looked after the children and helped out on the farm as she could. She was an incredibly strong woman and just an anchor and a pillar of strength within our family. She was basically all that my sisters and I had. And all in all, there was a lot of perks to being on the farm. It was a clean and peaceful environment and we were able to live a fairly happy existence in a happy life. But at some point that all changed. Around the age of eight or nine, something happened. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but my father got us kicked off the farm again. He was a, a degenerate and always getting into trouble and causing mischief. Not an honest man. He did something that really crossed the line with the man who owned the farm. And although I knew that that man loved us, my mother and myself and my sisters, he had no choice but to make us leave. So we packed up everything that we had, which really wasn't much. We lived in a one bedroom shack, all five of us, the entire family. And yeah, everything went into burlap bags, and we carried all of our belongings with us into the city. My memories of going to the city for the first time are very vivid because it was shocking to me my entire life was spent on that farm. I think we traveled to a little village that was nearby once in a while. Again, my father didn't have anything to sell, so we didn't really have a reason to leave the farm. There were some community gatherings that we would go to off the farm, but for the most part, up until that point, my life was contained in a very small area. I hadn't ventured far from the farm whatsoever. It took us three or four days of walking along this road to get to the city and. I will never forget it because I was completely shocked by the amount of people, the hustle and the bustle. And really the, the first thing that blew my mind was seeing a two story house. I had never seen a two story building and it completely shocked me. And, and it had never occurred to me that you could stack two houses on top of each other. It was totally a foreign concept to me. I'd never seen anything like it. The other thing that really stood out from the very beginning, the first time I went there were the horses on our farm. We had oxen and I think water buffalo slash oxen, something like that. We had chickens. And I really loved all the animals. And I'd seen, I think, donkeys once or twice traveling merchants would come by with, uh, with donkeys or, or very small horses. But when we went to the city, they had enormous, tall, strong, and muscular workhorses. And to me it was just amazing. I couldn't believe how big these creatures were and how people were utilizing them to do so much work and to pull heavy loads and carts and all of those kinds of things. I, and the reason we had to go into the city was because my father needed work. The farm that we were at was no longer a place where he could stay. And everybody in the area, all the surrounding neighbors, I. They all knew about my father and the trouble and the mischief he caused, so nobody's willing to take him on as a laborer. The next best option was to go to the city because the city was at the mouth of a river, which led to the sea, and there was a big harbor there, and there was a large port, and there was always work on the port, whether it was working on fishing boats, offloading fishing boats, helping to offload cargo from different boats. There was always something going on and people who needed manual labor. One thing that I recall very clearly is having intense emotions of absolutely detesting the city. I hated it. I missed the farm. I missed the animals. I missed my friends. I missed my way of life. To me, I felt so out of place in the city. All the people, the dirtiness, the pollution, people didn't respect each other's spaces, and people didn't respect nature. They were polluting the river, which was polluting the sea. The air was dirty. It smelled bad. There was absolutely nothing about the city that I liked. Because of our situation, formal education was basically out of the question. So as soon as I got there, I started working on the docs. I helped fishermen and all kinds of merchants. I did odd jobs. I did whatever I could to gain a little bit of money so that I could help support the family As time went on, I grew to resent my father, the city, and my situation more and more and more. I knew that I had to get out of there, despite not having a formal education. My mother did the best she could to educate us, and she did that through storytelling and parables. And growing up, my favorite stories were all about this wise old sage who was a hermit who lived in the mountains. I was captivated by the idea of living out in nature, in peace and quiet in tranquility, spending my days in meditation, tending my garden, and just being one with nature. I. My longing for the farm and that simpler way of life never went away and actually only got stronger over time finally at the age of about 15 or 16, I hit my breaking point and I decided that I was going to go live in the mountains as a hermit. I wanted to taste the same freedom that the wise old sage and the stories got to experience. Nobody telling me what to do, not needing anything from anybody. I wanted freedom from all responsibilities. I didn't need anything. I didn't want anything. I didn't want anybody to tell me what to do. I wanted to be in charge of my own life. This is a feeling and a sentiment that resonates within me today. I feel it very strongly. I am here to be on my own path, and I believe all of us are here to be on our own paths. And that our families, our societies, our communities, they mold us and they try to keep us in these small boxes. But somewhere inside of all of us is a larger version of ourself that wants to be expressed that doesn't fit into anybody's box. That was what I wanted, complete and total freedom to be whoever I wanted to be. Back in that time period of Japan, I believe it. There was a cast system and I remember feeling very restricted. The fact that I was born on a farm meant that I was a farmer, and that other vocations and ways of life were out of my reach. I was told that, and that was my expectation. That was my lot in life. To be a farmer, to be a manual laborer. I. And while I believe being a laborer and being a farmer is an incredibly noble pursuit, it wasn't all that I wanted to do. I felt like there was so much more to me than just working on the docs and getting a few coins here and there for my sweat and my blood and my tears. In addition to the stories of the sage on the mountain, there were traveling monks who just wandered around playing their flutes, and I figured if they could be free, I could be free too. So at 16 years old, I came up with a plan to escape the city and live out my life in peace and solitude on the mountain. the city I lived in was built on fairly flat ground around the mouth of this river, and this river led into a bay, and the bay opened up into the sea. The mountains that I wanted to go to were visible. They were fairly close, but they were closer to the sea. They basically butted right up against and came out of the sea. Not many people tended to venture out into the mountains simply because there, there really wasn't much there. Down where the city was located was much more hospitable. The climate was fairly nice. Because it was inside of the bay the weather that would come in from the sea, it wasn't so harsh where the city was and the weather was a little bit more warmer and temperate. But when you got out of the bay and went up into the mountain, the situation and the climate changed considerably. The higher you climbed up the mountain and the higher you got an elevation meant. There were fewer resources for people to live off of. but I really had no idea where I was going or what I was going to be doing. the only thing that I knew was that I had to get out of the city. My move out of the city and up to the mountain didn't just happen overnight. It was a very gradual process that took about two years to accomplish. I told my mom and my sisters what I had planned. I still felt like I had a responsibility to my family, to my mother and my younger sisters. I was quite estranged from my father. I didn't really want to have anything to do with him at that point, but I did still love my mother and my sisters. I also had a couple of cousins and I'd met, made some friends and had some acquaintances from people that I'd worked with and people that I knew locally. My mother was totally against my idea, believe it or not, uh, of moving up to the mountain. She thought I was crazy. She thought I was dangerous. She thought I was gonna get hurt and she thought something really bad was gonna happen and that it was completely inappropriate for me to leave the family and move outta the city. That being said, she knew how miserable I was and wanted the best for me, and she didn't fight too hard and didn't put up too much resistance when I started taking little excursions and taking little treks up to the mountain, and that's how it started. I didn't know exactly where I was going or where my Hermitage was gonna be. I just knew that I needed to get. Far from the city. So over the next year I started exploring the area and the mountain and taking little treks here and there and trying to find what the best location would be, trying to find a place with water and shelter. I knew I was gonna have to build pretty much everything that I would need. As far as living arrangements, including a hut and whatever else I wanted. So I really had to take my time and find a location that was going to suit my needs. As the search for my new home intensified. I worked less and less and spent more and more time up on the mountains, scouting around. Initially, I would leave early in the morning and come home late in the evening, and then I would be gone overnight, and then I would be gone over two nights, and then I'd be gone for four nights and then a week. And during those times, I was constantly searching and seeking to find the right place. I'd spend a little time here and see if that was suitable, spend a little time in another location to see if that was suitable. And I just looked around and I believed that when I found the right place, I would know After about a year, I found my future home. The place where I had decided to set up camp was not easy to get to, so I was not worried about being bothered up there. And the views and the nature up there was absolutely breathtaking. From the city where I lived, I would take a road heading south, and at a certain point it forked off and I would take the Western fork and I would be on that road for about three hours. Basically, it wound around the south side of the bay and headed towards the sea. At a certain point, that road became less and less of a road and more of a path for carts. And then even further down, it became more of a footpath. Until eventually, there was no path. From there I continued on southwest along the coast, which started to go up into the mountains and there was really no path there. I was just out on my own bush whacking and exploring and making my own path. Once I left the road, it was a six hour uphill climb to my spot. It wasn't exactly a treacherous or really dangerous climb, but it certainly wasn't for the faint of heart, and people wouldn't be going up there unless they had a good reason to. I, Once I found the right place and made up my mind as to where my hermitage would be, I started preparing by carrying soil up there for several months on my days off. In between work, I would go out there, walk three hours to the bottom of the mountain, gather soil in a burlap bag and carry it up the mountain. I wanted to have my own little garden up there, and I found a place with a rock overhang where there was adequate sunlight, where water didn't run through, and I basically made a little garden. There was no soil up there. I had to carry everything I needed up there. So I made many, many, many trips with these burlap bags full of dirt up the mountain. But eventually I had enough soil and had enough material up there to be able to plant a decent little garden. I also had to carry all the material for my hut. Now this hut was very basic, and the spot that I found it was very convenient because there was. Kind of a little cave that I just started to occupy and built out around the front of it. So it wasn't a lot of building that I had to do, but there were some things that I had to patch up. I had a little thatch roof and basically it was a, just a one room shack that was built into the side of this mountain. there Was a natural spring nearby, so I didn't have indoor plumbing, not even close, but I didn't have to go all that far to get fresh water. Fresh water was always available to me when I wanted it. I just had to go get it. This process of building out my garden and the shack took a few months. But once I found the spot, the process of building out my hermitage took probably less than a year. And the more and more I got my spot built out, the more and more time I spent up there. So it was a gradual moving away from the city. I would go back here and there now and then when I needed to for a little bit of money or to say hi to my family and let them know I was all right. But for the most part, it was a very gradual movement towards my place up on the mountain. I didn't tell anybody exactly where it was. I wanted this place to be on my own and I didn't want to have guests come by unannounced. Uh,, I think it was a couple years. I didn't tell anybody where it was. I. But at a certain point, I brought my sister and I had two sisters, the youngest sister. She didn't really understand me as well, and she didn't understand why I was doing what I was doing. She felt more hurt that I was leaving. She didn't have such a deep, uh, affiliation to the farm and to nature, not as much as I did because she was still quite young when we, when we moved to the city. So it was more natural to her. My, the middle sister, she understood me more and I was closer to her. So she was the first person I brought up to my little shack. Over time, I brought up a couple of my cousins and a couple of friends and acquaintances that I'd made in the city, but in reality, I didn't really go down to the city very often. Once I was established up there, I only made one or two trips down to the city every year, when I really needed supplies, I would go into town, but I would spend as little time there as necessary because I really just did not like it whatsoever. I would get what I needed. I would stop to see my family, briefly say hello to everybody, and then I would continue on my way back up to the mountain and that's how I lived. Occasionally my sister or a cousin would come up and they would bring supplies, but that's essentially how I lived for the rest of my life. Coming down to the city as little as possible and spending the majority of my time up in the solitude and peace on the mountain. The life of a hermit wasn't necessarily easy. It wasn't necessarily full of joy and good times, but I did find it incredibly rewarding and deeply fulfilling. I spent my time doing exactly what I wanted to do. I drank tea. I tended my garden, and I meditated. I had different meditative practices. I would do sun gazing. I would play my shaku hachi, and I would draw For those of you who don't know, a Shaku Hachi is an end blown bamboo flute. It's no coincidence that I have a deep love for flutes and particularly end blown bamboo flutes. Admittedly, I don't play my shaku hachi that often, but when I do, it just takes me to a different place. I grew up on a small farm in rural Minnesota, and by all means, I should be listening to country music and classic rock. So is it any coincidence I. That I love Chakko Haji music. Probably not. It's amazing what we can find out about ourselves when we get really curious and start to do inner exploration. My creative impulse went beyond just playing the kochi. I would get big rolls of parchment paper and use charcoal to create these large, expansive scenes of nature, often including mountains overlooking the ocean. initially started creating these drawings just because I loved doing it. But after a while I found out that I could take these drawings into town and sell them, and that was ultimately how I made all the money that I needed to support myself through selling my artwork. I would either go into town and sell it myself, or when somebody would come visit me, they would take my artwork down with them, sell it, and bring me up supplies or whatever I needed on their next trip up. I had a nice little system going of people who would come visit me and bring me things so that I wouldn't have to make as many trips down to the city. And that suited me just fine. Eventually, my artwork got pretty popular and I got to be well known as the hermit up on the mountain. And spending as much time as I did in solitude on the mountain in meditation. I actually became quite wise and learned quite a few lessons. Nature is the greatest teacher, and I spent a lot of time being taught by nature. As I got older, people wanted to learn from me. People that I didn't know wanted to come up and spend time with me for different reasons. There were quite a few people over the years who sought me out for advice. In a way, I became a bit of a local legend. But even though people were seeking me out, I still fully rejected and in my heart of hearts held resentment towards civilization. On some level, I have to admit, there was a sense of guilt and shame. I looked down on humans, on people. I could see the, the pollution, the way people didn't respect nature and they didn't respect themselves. And by the fact that I was a human, I held resentment towards myself. I also deeply distrusted people. There was a wound from my father. That never got healed in some sense. I ran away from healing that needed to be done. I, I guess in a sense, you could think of it as spiritual bypassing. On one hand, I did grow wise and I learned a lot. On the other hand, these hard feelings that were inside of me, they didn't get resolved, and they festered and they hardened, and they turned me into a crotchety old man. I was often dismissive and rude to people who were kind to me for no reason other than the fact that I had this old grudge against my father. The longer I lived up on the mountain in solitude, the fewer opportunities I gave myself to work through those old patterns and those limiting beliefs. And this was how the later part of my life played out. Fast forward to the scene where I'm looking down at my corpse floating up above my body. At that instant, I had a massive realization that I had made a huge mistake. It didn't matter how much wisdom that I gained, what mattered was my ability to share it with people. My ability to use that wisdom for good, my ability to share the gifts that mother nature imparted on me with others to make the world a better place. I hoarded my wisdom and I hoarded my knowledge as if there was something special about me, as if I deserved it and nobody else did in that life. I had a massive opportunity to make a big impact on a lot of people, but I chose to stay small. I chose to stay in my comfort zone upon the mountain and not put myself out there, not step out of my comfort zone, not be around people, and put myself in situations that were challenging to me in one way. It was challenging to be on the mountain. But after a while, that just became my normal Knowledge and wisdom only matter when they're shared. And to share those gifts coming from a place of love only amplifies that knowledge and wisdom. We all have the ability to have a positive impact on the world. Sure Isolation can bring mastery. But connection gives that mastery a purpose. What is your purpose? Why are you here? What is that unique, special thing that spark that's inside of you that you can share with the world that would make a difference for everybody around you? Life is such a precious gift, and we have an incredible opportunity to make the world a better place and to learn more about ourselves, and in doing so, helping others along the way. Exploring our past lives is only one of many ways that we can go inward and learn more about our soul's journey. If you're curious about your own soul's journey, go to this video right here where I talk about reincarnation. Give solid evidence for it, and give you tips on how you can get started on your own journey of self-discovery.