Just before we left for Europe Wendy and I were coming down Denton Highway in north Fort Worth one evening when we saw a peacock standing by the side of the road. Unusual to say the least.
At the Viking Ship Museum in Oslo we learned that one of the items in the ship burial of 890 AD included a peacock.
In our AirBnB was a vase of dried poppy heads, and yes, you guessed it, peacock feathers.
Coincidence? I guess. But still food for thought.
One of the central deities at the Hindu ashram in West Wales that I have frequently attended since 1978 is Lord Subramaniam, son of Shiva, who represents victory over all negative forces. He rides a peacock.
A peacock, with its fabulous display and strutting attitude, is often interpreted as pride or arrogance. Yet, when he becomes the vehicle or mount of the deity who represents the vanquishing of all lesser powers, the peacock is transformed into a being of beauty, charisma and service.
Musing on this I note that my ego, with its myriad preenings and displays is also transformed when Spirit, or my higher awareness, is in charge. It’s still there, but its role and flavor have changed. And in a beautiful way.
Things often seem to come in threes so maybe my interaction with peacocks is over for now. I’ll keep looking, and recall the words of the great poet William Blake: “The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.”