QUOTE (ras @ May 1 2010, 10:00 PM)
It comes from the fact that trees are born naked and never wear clothes at all (unlike the other 8,399,998 species of life).
Nonono, you are mistaken over the subtlety off the causal projection at work. To become a tree, you need to enjoy being still and naked in an exposed posture
, like a Playboy model for example. Someone who likes to move about in sexually explicit ways
, like a pr0n movie star, can on the other hand become for example a sexy gopie girl humping about the bushes with the transcendental sexocrat, if only they receive the mercy of a pure rasika devotee. (Again, if a Playboy model receives the blessings of a pure devotee, she may become a desire tree in her next life.)
Besides Bhaktisiddhanta was born with a brahmin thread around his neck, or something, and promptly put kaupinas on after he popped out, so we humans are clearly a superior species with our inherent inhibitions.
On the other hand, if the trees in the forest are actually lusty women, why then is the forest a place recommended for them sages to meditate in celestial celebrated celibacy?
This is because it's important to become tolerant like a naked tree exposed in a provoking manner. I have to say, though, that if the sages begin seeing trees as naked women posing for them, it may be that they have not quite mastered the sublimation of the sexual urges of the mind, even if their balls are well-busted into place with tight-knotted strings.
On the other hand, if the trees don't bring you down, there are plenty Apsaras waiting to mop you from the forest floor. Wasn't it in the forest where Purvacitti met Maharaja Agnidhra, loitering as it were, she just so happened to be? An excellent piece of Vedic soft p0rn.
My favorite is when Kardama and Devahuti left off in the aerial mansion to have seven years of sex, or was it seven thousand years, and the Muni then expanded into nine forms to keep her super happy
. I remember I was quite disturbed when I first read it at the age of 16 as a fresh young celibate brahmacari. Still, the pervert in me forced me to read on, and not skip the canto.