A few years ago a friend and I had a tomato-plant growing contest. His turned out to be a bodybuilder of a tomato plant while mine seemed somewhat anemic. I was perplexed by this massive disparity until he let me in on his little ‘secret’: he had sat outside and sang to his plants everyday.
There is no doubt in my mind that he actually did this.
In a December 2009 New York Times article on the survival mechanisms of our botanical friends, Monika Hilker of the Institute of Biology at the Free University of Berlin explains that plants respond to tactile cue, recognize different wavelengths of light, listen to chemical signals, and even talk through chemical signals. Therefore, they possess touch, sight, hearing, and speech – senses we commonly reserve for animals.
This can be illustrated by examining plant defense mechanisms. When a plant is bitten by an insect, specialized cells on the plants surface release chemicals to irritate the predator or to trap it in goo. An intrusion activates a chemical response in the plants DNA, which mirrors the immune response of the human body. Researchers at Pennsylvania State University found that within 20 minutes from the time a caterpillar bites a plant, the plant takes in atmospheric carbon and created defense compounds from scratch. The release of these compounds attracts large predatory insects like dragonflies, who feed on caterpillars, and tiny parasitic insects, which can lethally infect the caterpillar. Adding insult to injury (for the predator), the release of these compounds can cause nearby plants of the same species to be more resistant to the herbivores.
This experiment shows the complexities of a plant’s relationship with external stimuli. Plants both receive and send chemical messages. Plants also detect and respond to light waves. Considering this, it is not implausible to assert that they respond to sound waves as well. And in fact, various experiments have detected just that:
In the 1970s a woman named Dorothy Retallack published The Sound of Music and Plants where she details the results of her experiments. Essentially she found that plants exposed to soothing music grew faster, stronger, and towards the music source, whereas plants exposed to rock were weaker and grew away from the music source.
More recently, the guys over at Mythbusters performed a similar experiment. They concluded that plants exposed to sound grew faster than those in silence. However, they found that plants exposed to intense death metal grew better than those exposed to speech recordings or classical music.
Research performed at Penn State suggests that this growth response could have evolved as a way to survive in windy environments.
Regardless, the integral relationship of sound to life cannot be denied. Sound connects us to every other organism, the universe, and even reality itself. The fact that plants, immobile and without consciousness or reason, are affected by sound confirms that we are contributors and receivers to a universal harmonic stew.
We can try to isolate sound as a quantifiable entity, but such efforts will prove futile. Sound is simply vibrational frequencies transmitted through a medium. Our bodies, our minds, our entire perceived reality consists of vibration forces. Sound—rhythm—is intrinsic to our being. We can no more isolate life from rhythm, than we can color from light. Color only exists within light, just as life can only exists within rhythms, within pulsating frequencies. Sound is rythmatic. Life is rhythmatic.
Of course a tomato plant will be more prosperous when bathed in sound. Rhythm is fundamental to life itself.
Armed with this knowledge, my next plants will be the Schwarzeneggers of the tomato kingdom.
“At the heart of each of us, whatever our imperfections, there exists a silent pulse of perfect rhythm, a complex of wave forms and resonances, which is absolutely individual and unique, and yet which connects us to everything in the universe. The act of getting in touch with this pulse can transform our personal experience and in some ways alter the world around us.” – George Leonard, The Silent Pulse

The name Timothy Leary often conjures up images of LSD usage, political unrest, and the turbulent 60s. Less often is his name associated with the progressive intellectualism that underlay the social movement of the 1960s. Born in 1920, Leary was an American writer, psychologist, researcher, and professor. In 1960 while working at Harvard, Leary traveled with colleague Anthony Russo to Cuernavaca to experiment with psychedelic mushrooms. The experience had a profound impact on Leary who claimed to have learned more about human psychology during his 5 hour trip than during his 15 year of research. Shortly after, he and Russo began the Harvard Psilocybin Project in an effort to better understand the effects of psilocybin on the human mind. They continued their research with the Concord Prison Experiment, and later Leary co-founded the International Foundation for Internal Freedom, which attracted a great deal of attention and increased the market of psychedelic drugs. After being fired from Harvard, Leary continued his experiments with LSD. He authored dozens of books and traveled around America, touring college campuses and speaking at events where he promoted the use of LSD for its consciousness-expanding properties.