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The ASMR Podcast

The ASMR Podcast

various ASMRtists

Relaxing ASMR audio content from a range of ASMRtists
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Top 10 The ASMR Podcast Episodes

Goodpods has curated a list of the 10 best The ASMR Podcast episodes, ranked by the number of listens and likes each episode have garnered from our listeners. If you are listening to The ASMR Podcast for the first time, there's no better place to start than with one of these standout episodes. If you are a fan of the show, vote for your favorite The ASMR Podcast episode by adding your comments to the episode page.

The ASMR Podcast - 86: Whisper You To Sleep… 3
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03/18/21 • 14 min

In Episode 86 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back Lucy with her Whisper You To Sleep... show. Today she is going to explore some soothing sounds produced with household objects.


You can find Lucy’s podcast at Buzzsprout and on Spotify.


The post 86: Whisper You To Sleep... 3 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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The ASMR Podcast - 87: Whisper You To Sleep… 4
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03/25/21 • 9 min

In Episode 87 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back Lucy with her Whisper You To Sleep... show. Today she is going to lead you in a forest-themed meditation.


You can find Lucy’s podcast at Buzzsprout and on Spotify.


The post 87: Whisper You To Sleep... 4 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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The ASMR Podcast - 88: Whisper You to Sleep… 5
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04/15/21 • 11 min

In Episode 88 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back Lucy with her Whisper You To Sleep... show. Today she has some interesting facts about animals to share.


You can find Lucy’s podcast at Buzzsprout and on Spotify.


The post 88: Whisper You to Sleep... 5 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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In Episode 81 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back Sherlock ASMR, who continues his series of whispered Sherlock Holmes readings with the second part of ‘The Five Orange Pips’.

Subscribe to The ASMR Podcast on iTunes, Spotify, Pocket Casts, TuneIn or Stitcher.

Transcript:

“Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of ‘suicide.’ But I, who knew how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of some £ 14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank.”

“One moment,” Holmes interposed, “your statement is, I foresee, one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his supposed suicide.”

“The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later, upon the night of May 2nd.”

“Thank you. Pray proceed.”

“When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and ‘Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register’ written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle’s life in America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North.

“Well, it was the beginning of ’84 when my father came to live at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of ’85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself.

“‘Why, what on earth does this mean, John?’ he stammered.

“My heart had turned to lead. ‘It is K. K. K.,’ said I.

“He looked inside the envelope. ‘So it is,’ he cried. ‘Here are the very letters. But what is this written above them?’

“‘Put the papers on the sundial,’ I read, peeping over his shoulder.

“‘What papers? What sundial?’ he asked.

“‘The sundial in the garden. There is no other,’ said I; ‘but the papers must be those that are destroyed.’

“‘Pooh!’ said he, gripping hard at his courage. ‘We are in a civilised land here, and we can’t have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does the thing come from?’

“‘From Dundee,’ I answered, glancing at the postmark.

“‘Some preposterous practical joke,’ said he. ‘What have I to do with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.’

“‘I should certainly speak to the police,’ I said.

“‘And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.’

“‘Then let me do so?’

“‘No, I forbid you. I won’t have a fuss made about such nonsense.’

“It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings.

“On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at once. My father had fal...

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In Episode 80 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back Sherlock ASMR, who continues his series of whispered Sherlock Holmes readings with the first part of a new mystery – ‘The Five Orange Pips’.

Subscribe to The ASMR Podcast on iTunes, Spotify, Pocket Casts, TuneIn or Stitcher.

Transcript:

When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years ’82 and ’90, I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection with it which never have been, and probably never will be, entirely cleared up.

The year ’87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the British barque Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man’s watch, to prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time—a deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of them present such singular features as the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe.

It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell’s fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother’s, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street.

“Why,” said I, glancing up at my companion, “that was surely the bell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?”

“Except yourself I have none,” he answered. “I do not encourage visitors.”

“A client, then?”

“If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely to be some crony of the landlady’s.”

Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.

“Come in!” said he.

The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is weighed down with some great anxiety.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, raising his golden pince-nez to his eyes. “I trust...

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In Episode 77 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back Sherlock ASMR, who continues his series of whispered Sherlock Holmes readings with the sixth part of ‘The Boscombe Valley Mystery’.

Subscribe to The ASMR Podcast on iTunes, Spotify, Pocket Casts, TuneIn or Stitcher.

Transcript:

The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner’s dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my companion.

“What did you go into the pool for?” he asked.

“I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or other trace. But how on earth—”

“Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of the same feet.” He drew out a lens and lay down upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to himself than to us. “These are young McCarthy’s feet. Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are the father’s feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again—of course that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?” He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost.

“It has been a case of considerable interest,” he remarked, returning to his natural manner. “I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently.”

It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up in the wood.

“This may interest you, Lestrade,” he remarked, holding it out. “The murder was done with it.”

“I see no marks.”

“There are none.”

“How do you know, then?”

“The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon.”

“And the murderer?”

“Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our search.”

Lestrade laughed. “I am afraid that I am still a sceptic,” he said. “Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed British ju...

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The ASMR Podcast - 92: Tales of ASMR 1

92: Tales of ASMR 1

The ASMR Podcast

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09/02/21 • 16 min

In Episode 92 of The ASMR Podcast we introduce a new show as we welcome Lady O and her Tales of ASMR. In this episode she brings relaxation to even the most stressful situations as she provides guided meditation for those who have been turned to stone by Medusa.


You can find Lady O’s podcast at Apple Podcasts and on Spotify.


The post 92: Tales of ASMR 1 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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The ASMR Podcast - 93: Ariel ASMR 11

93: Ariel ASMR 11

The ASMR Podcast

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06/21/23 • 21 min

In Episode 93 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back the ubiquitous Ariel ASMR. Today she is going to help you relax with a brand new episode as she leafs through a book and talks softly about ASMR experienced by animals.


You can find Ariel ASMR’s videos on YouTube.


The post 93: Ariel ASMR 11 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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The ASMR Podcast - 94: Ariel ASMR 12

94: Ariel ASMR 12

The ASMR Podcast

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07/27/23 • 14 min

In Episode 94 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome back the wonderful Ariel ASMR. Today she is going to help you forget your cares with a brand new episode as she taps her way through some colourful items and describes them with her typically relaxing soft speech.


You can find Ariel ASMR’s videos on YouTube.


The post 94: Ariel ASMR 12 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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The ASMR Podcast - 83: Whisper You To Sleep… 1
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02/25/21 • 11 min

In Episode 83 of The ASMR Podcast we welcome a new contributor as we explore Lucy Drive’s Whisper You To Sleep... show. Today she is going to whisper you compliments until you drift off.


You can find Lucy’s podcast at Buzzsprout and on Spotify.


The post 83: Whisper You To Sleep... 1 appeared first on The ASMR Podcast - ASMR Audio Triggers.

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FAQ

How many episodes does The ASMR Podcast have?

The ASMR Podcast currently has 99 episodes available.

What topics does The ASMR Podcast cover?

The podcast is about Health & Fitness, Alternative Health and Podcasts.

What is the most popular episode on The ASMR Podcast?

The episode title '81: Sherlock Holmes ASMR – The Five Orange Pips: Part 2' is the most popular.

What is the average episode length on The ASMR Podcast?

The average episode length on The ASMR Podcast is 15 minutes.

How often are episodes of The ASMR Podcast released?

Episodes of The ASMR Podcast are typically released every 7 days, 2 hours.

When was the first episode of The ASMR Podcast?

The first episode of The ASMR Podcast was released on Aug 18, 2015.

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