The Potato Prophet who Sat on a Cactus
<p><strong>The Man Who Spoke to Plants — And They Actually Listened</strong></p><p>What would you say about a man who could sit…on a cactus…in front of a live audience...</p><p>…and not move. Not flinch. Not bleed.</p><p>Because the cactus had no spines.</p><p>Not because he found it.But because <strong>he made it that way</strong>.</p><p><strong>Meet Luther Burbank</strong></p><p>A botanist who didn’t just <em>grow</em> plants.He <em>talked</em> to them.</p><p>And in ways science still can’t explain…<strong>they talked back</strong>.</p><p><strong>Sounds Impossible? Too Mystical?</strong></p><p>Okay—but let’s talk about fries.</p><p>Not that you’d ever touch fast food, right?Of course not. Never.<em>Definitely not at 11pm in a drive-thru.</em><em>Wink.</em></p><p>But if—<strong>hypothetically</strong>—you ever had one of those crispy golden fries from a certain global mega-chain… that potato was his.</p><p><strong>The Russet Burbank.</strong></p><p>Yes, the most widely consumed, industrially farmed, French-fried starch in America—the very potato that helped launch an empire of deep-fried convenience—<strong>came from this man</strong>.</p><p>The man who sat on cacti, whispered to daisies, and believed that <strong>plants had personalities</strong>.</p><p><strong>The Man Behind the Big Fry</strong></p><p>He didn’t work in white coats or test tubes.He used pruning shears, a notebook, and something deeper—a <em>felt sense of communication</em> with plants.</p><p>In the early 1900s, ranchers in the American Southwest had a problem:Cattle were starving during droughts.</p><p>So they chewed on prickly pear cactus—and ended up bleeding from the mouth.</p><p>Burbank heard about it.</p><p>He didn’t just study the cactus.He <em>spent years</em> with it.</p><p><strong>Talking to it. Observing. Loving it.</strong><em>Trying to understand the will of the plant itself.</em></p><p><em>“The secret of improved plant breeding... is love.”</em> — Luther Burbank</p><p>He bred <strong>hundreds</strong>—hundreds—of Opuntia specimens.Until one day, the cactus responded.</p><p><strong>No spines.</strong>Just soft, fleshy pads—safe for cattle.And edible by humans.</p><p>To prove it?He sat on one. In front of a crowd.And just smiled.</p><p><p>Please Share this Article on any Groups you Frequent Online… More Need to Know this Truth. Thank you!</p></p><p><strong>What Made Burbank Different</strong></p><p>He didn’t just manipulate plants—<strong>he partnered with them</strong>.</p><p>He believed they had memory. Emotion.Even a kind of <strong>intelligence</strong>.</p><p>He treated each one as a unique individual.</p><p>He refused to follow rigid scientific protocols.Instead, he spent <em>hours—days—walking his gardens</em>, whispering encouragement, noting every leaf twitch, every color shift, every scent change.</p><p>Sometimes he'd wait <em>10 or 15 years</em> just to see if a single cross would bloom the way he dreamed.</p><p><em>“I am not making new things... I am helping nature express herself better.”</em></p><p>That wasn’t just his philosophy.<strong>It was his entire practice.</strong></p><p><strong>A Saint Among the Roses</strong></p><p>And people noticed.</p><p><strong>Paramahansa Yogananda</strong>, one of the most revered spiritual teachers of the 20th century, met Burbank—and was so struck by his presence that he dedicated <em>Autobiography of a Yogi</em> to him.</p><p>Not to a swami. Not to a sage.<strong>To a gardener.</strong></p><p><em>“A saint amidst the roses,”</em> Yogananda called him.</p><p>Their connection wasn’t casual—it was <em>soul-level</em>.</p><p>On a walk through Burbank’s Santa Rosa garden, Yogananda heard the words that captured the essence of the man:</p><p><em>“The secret of improved plant breeding, apart from scientific knowledge, is love.”</em></p><p>They stopped beside a bed of edible cacti—yes, the famous thornless kind—and Burbank elaborated:</p><p><em>“While I was conducting experiments to make ‘spineless’ cacti,” he said, “I often talked to the plants to create a vibration of love. ‘You have nothing to fear,’ I would tell them. ‘You don’t need your defensive thorns. I will protect you.’”</em></p><p><strong>And the cactus listened.</strong></p><p>That’s not metaphor.It actually dropped its spines.</p><p><strong>The plant changed its biology in response to trust.</strong></p><p><strong>Beyond Biology—Into Relationship</strong></p><p>This is the core of Burbank’s genius:<strong>Not just biology, but relationship.</strong></p><p>He didn’t dominate nature.He <em>collaborated</em> with it.<strong>Listened. Adapted. Guided.</strong></p><p>Yogananda was so moved by this communion that he asked for some cactus pads to grow in his Mount Washington garden.</p><p>When a workman stepped in to help, Burbank stopped him.</p><p><em>“I myself will pluck them for the swami.”</em></p><p>That’s who he was.</p><p><strong>A Walnut Tree, a Twinkle in His Eye</strong></p><p>He went on to show Yogananda a walnut tree that took just 16 years to produce an abundant harvest—a process that should’ve taken <strong>twice</strong> that time.</p><p>With a twinkle in his eye, he described the possibilities—for both plants and people—<strong>when guided with care and intention.</strong></p><p><em>“The most stubborn living thing in this world... is a plant once fixed in certain habits... The human will is a weak thing beside the will of a plant.”</em></p><p>But with love and patient attention, <em>even that will</em> could be shifted.</p><p><em>“When it comes to so sensitive and pliable a thing as the nature of a child,” he said, “the problem becomes vastly easier.”</em></p><p>Burbank saw humanity as one vast garden.And he believed that what worked in the soil...could also work in the <strong>soul</strong>.</p><p><strong>More Than Just Woo</strong></p><p>So yeah—maybe it all sounds a little woo.Talking to plants. Believing they respond to love.</p><p>But then again…<strong>He gave us over 800 new plant species.</strong>He shaped modern agriculture.He gave us the potato that fed the world—and powered fast food empires.</p><p><em>And still, that wasn’t what moved him most.</em></p><p>He and Yogananda spent hours dreaming about the future—not just of plants, but of people. They traded thoughts about <strong>education, Eastern and Western wisdom, yoga, reincarnation, mysticism</strong>.</p><p>They even brainstormed the name of a magazine together.(<em>They landed on</em> East–West, <em>naturally.</em>)</p><p>And Burbank wasn’t just philosophizing from the sidelines.He took initiation into <strong>Kriya Yoga</strong> from Yogananda—and practiced it with devotion.</p><p><em>“Sometimes I feel very close to the Infinite Power,”</em> he told Yogananda, quietly.</p><p><strong>The Human Seed</strong></p><p>What stirred him more than a better walnut tree or thornless cactus...was <strong>the human seed</strong>—the <em>potential in a child</em>.</p><p>He believed, as Yogananda did, that a <strong>new kind of education</strong> was needed:One that honored nature.Cultivated <em>inner</em> growth.Treated kids like whole people—not just data buckets.</p><p><em>“Schools like yours are the only hope of a future millennium,”</em> he said.</p><p><strong>That Vision Didn’t Die With Them</strong></p><p>My wife Chiara helped start a school for our children and others based on those very ideals.</p><p>It’s called <strong>Piccolo Seme (</strong><em>Little Seed — in English</em><strong>)</strong>—originally rooted in the teachings of Yogananda, and in the same soil Burbank believed in.</p><p>When the world was shutting down in 2020, and everything felt uncertain, that school became a <strong>lifeline</strong> for us—and for many families hungry for something more grounded, more joyful, more… <em>real</em>.</p><p>And now, years later, I find myself still talking to plants in the garden.Still wondering what they know.Still trying to pass that spark on to my 10-year-old son—who usually just rolls his eyes when I get too mystical about my basil.</p><p>But maybe someday, he’ll get it.Maybe one day he’ll feel what Burbank felt.</p><p><em>That love isn’t just something we feel—</em><em>It’s something we grow.</em><em>And it grows back.</em></p><p><strong>What If...?</strong></p><p>What if the wildest ideas… aren’t actually that wild?</p><p>What if communion with nature isn’t mysticism…but science we just haven’t caught up to yet?</p><p>What if you could learn to listen—<strong>really listen</strong>—to the life growing silently all around you?</p><p>Burbank didn’t just change plants.<strong>He changed the relationship we could have with them.</strong></p><p>And maybe…that’s the part we’re still catching up on.</p><p>Let’s talk more soon.</p><p>Ray “Love Grows when we Plant Seeds” Lee Bacon</p><p><p><strong>More chapters of the </strong><strong><em>Electroculture Foundations Guide</em></strong><strong> are coming soon 🌿</strong>Subscribe now to stay updated and never miss a drop.</p></p><p><em>Me with Satish Kumar — a modern sage of our time. Google him.</em></p><p></p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://electroculture.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2">electroculture.substack.com/subscribe</a>