"When it comes to so sensitive and pliable a thing as the nature
of a child, the problem becomes vastly easier."
Magnetically drawn to this great American, I visited him again and
again. One morning I arrived at the same time as the postman, who
deposited in Burbank's study about a thousand letters. Horticulturists
wrote him from all parts of the world.
"Swamiji, your presence is just the excuse I need to get out into
the garden," Luther said gaily. He opened a large desk-drawer
containing hundreds of travel folders.
"See," he said, "this is how I do my traveling. Tied down by my
plants and correspondence, I satisfy my desire for foreign lands
by a glance now and then at these pictures."
My car was standing before his gate; Luther and I drove along the
streets of the little town, its gardens bright with his own varieties
of Santa Rosa, Peachblow, and Burbank roses.
"My friend Henry Ford and I both believe in the ancient theory of
reincarnation," Luther told me. "It sheds light on aspects of life
otherwise inexplicable. Memory is not a test of truth; just because
man fails to remember his past lives does not prove he never had
them. Memory is blank concerning his womb-life and infancy, too;
but he probably passed through them!" He chuckled.
The great scientist had received KRIYA initiation during one of my
earlier visits. "I practice the technique devoutly, Swamiji," he
said. After many thoughtful questions to me about various aspects
of yoga, Luther remarked slowly:
"The East indeed possesses immense hoards of knowledge which the
West has scarcely begun to explore.
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