Episode 24

Silence

This week THE THREE-HEADED MAN quietly discuss Silence

Jazzy is reading prayers for the passing of the Queen of Samadhi. He reads an invocation to the "divine silence of the soundless voice". Jazzy continues with the silence of the Sikh deities and listening. Miracles are obtained by listening.

Jimmy returns the conversation to more concrete experiences -- Silence and Sound -- and the everyday sounds.

Phreddie reminds that "In the beginning there was the word." He wonders whether sound is the first creation in the void of silence.

Jimmy introduces several related topics: Receptivity, Manifestation, and Passivity. He recalls sounds that accompany him on his daily walk, contrasting silence and sound.

Phreddie and listening. Scanning for the necessary information. Impatience. Listening and understanding Spanish. Listening for tone.

Jimmy likes talking to shy people, and the silence of the bush. He continues by questioning the relationship between Harmony, Silence and Spirit.

Phreddie labels himself as an "emanater". Phreddie poses the question, "can one emanate and listen concurrently?"

The THREE-HEADED MAN asks, "Silence is a sound?"

Their conversation concludes with Phreddie recalling a car camping rendezvous with Jimmy and his wife, Mary. Phreddie and his wife, Helena, searched each summer for 'natural churches.' The two couples spent a few days in one of the most churchy natural churches in northern Montana.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for The Three-Headed Man
The Three-Headed Man
Talking To Ourselves For Over 25 Years

About your host

Profile picture for Fred M Schill

Fred M Schill

I like to do. I like to make things. And, I like telling stories. I tell stories to myself and to others.

First, a short biography, which is, of course, is a story. I was born in Cleveland, played sports, and attended university. Later, after a few years in the radio business, I returned to university to study education and literature.

With a teaching certificate in my file folder, I began working in high schools, first as a strike-breaking scab substitute teacher in Cleveland's far suburbs, and then in Chicago, mostly in private high schools.

Cleveland and Chicago. My two main towns, and I escaped them both. Presently, I live in a tiny, isolated, mountain village in Spain. I am reluctant to write the name of the town because I don't like tourists. When the tourists arrive, they look at me as if I am an animal in a zoo.