The Hidden Order of Pan: The Astral Secret Behind the Calendar and the Seal
- Michelle Hayman
- 2 days ago
- 14 min read
The true lineage of the great mystery traditions is not one of prophets or saviors but of Nature itself, eternal, self-renewing, and alive. At the root of this current stands the brotherhood of Pythagoras. Their highest symbol was the tetractys, a triangular figure of ten points arranged in four rows, 1+2+3+4 equalling 10, which they called the very fountain of eternal nature. Their oath was sworn not to a god of scripture but to the All itself ; the cosmos, the harmony of numbers, the inexhaustible power that sustains life. This was Pan, whose very name means “All.” Pan was not merely a rustic god of flocks but the embodiment of the totality of being, the hidden force of eternal renewal.

The Pythagoreans also preserved the pentagram as their secret sign. To them it was a mark of health and harmony, and it carried an astronomical truth: every eight years, the planet Venus traces a five-pointed star across the heavens, inscribing into the very fabric of the sky the geometry of the pentagram. The Pythagoreans saw in this pattern the signature of eternal order. Later, when this symbol was absorbed into Roman and ecclesiastical use, it became the sign of the Queen of Heaven, the feminine aspect of cosmic power. Yet beneath the mask of Venus or the Madonna, the principle remained the same: the pentagram was the living seal of Pan, the All.
When Rome ascended to empire, it gathered these mysteries into the cult of the Sun. In 274 CE, Emperor Aurelian raised Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun, to the throne of heaven. Sol was not a mere celestial body but the visible power of eternal nature, the light that conquers darkness at solstice and stands in balance at the equinox. In this elevation of the Sun we see the continuation of the Pythagorean oath, now transposed into imperial worship. The empire was held together under the image of cosmic unity, with the emperor himself ruling as the vicar of solar power. But behind Sol Invictus stood Pan, eternal nature, the All, once again enthroned under another name.
It was in this atmosphere of solar religion and cosmic order that the great calendar of renewal was permanently fixed to the spring equinox. This was no innocent calculation. The decision that the festival of new life and renewal must always fall when the Sun crossed the equator and entered the sign of Aries was a conscious act of cosmic synchronization. By aligning the feast to this exact astral moment, the rulers ensured that human ritual and empire’s religion would be bound to the rhythm of the heavens.
The equinox is the great hinge of time, the day when light and darkness are in perfect balance, and from which light begins to grow. To tie the renewal festival to this point is to harness the very turning of the year. But the symbolism goes deeper still: for at the equinox, the Sun enters Aries, the Ram. Aries is not only the beginning of the zodiac but also the horned power of leadership, conquest, and sacrifice. The Ram is Pan, half-goat, half-horned, the force of nature rushing forth with the energy of spring. To fix the calendar here was to invoke the Ram’s power, to call down Pan’s dominion at the most potent astral moment of the year.
This hidden purpose is illuminated when we turn to the visions of the book of Daniel. In chapter 8, Daniel sees a ram with two horns pushing westward, northward, and southward, and no beast could stand before him. The angel explains that the ram represents the kings of Media and Persia, powers of empire that trample the earth. Then a goat from the west, swift and fierce, strikes the ram and breaks his horns. The goat, we are told, is the king of Greece. The symbols are transparent: the ram and goat are not benign animals but the archetypal forces of conquest and domination, astral powers moving behind empires. They are the horned beasts of Pan, embodiments of the same current that the Pythagoreans swore to and Rome enthroned.

The book of Revelation expands this imagery further. There we find the vision of the beast rising from the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and the whole earth marveling and following after it. This beast is the same archetypal force as Daniel’s ram and goat, the horned dominion of Pan enthroned upon the earth. The beast is given power by the dragon , but its nature is that of the horned one, the ruler of cycles, the eternal nature manifest in empire. Nowhere is there reference to a redeemer within this imagery; rather, it is a portrayal of the astral current that has always governed the powers of the world; the very current that fixes calendars, raises empires, and engraves its seal upon the coins and bills of nations.

This brings us to the modern emblem of power, the Great Seal of the United States. Here the pyramid rises, unfinished, symbol of the work of ages, the construction of the eternal order on earth. Above it hovers the Eye, encased in a triangle of light. Official explanations call it Providence, but its deeper reality is plain: it is the Eye of Pan, the All-Seeing, the consciousness of eternal Nature watching over the works of men. Beneath the pyramid is inscribed Novus Ordo Seclorum; “a new order of the ages.” This is not a mere poetic flourish but a declaration of intent: the restoration of the primordial order, the enthronement once again of Pan as the visible ruler of the world through the structures of empire and global governance.
Thus, from the secret brotherhood of Pythagoras, to the solar cults of Rome, to the fixing of the calendar at the equinox in Aries, to the prophetic visions of horned beasts in Daniel and Revelation, and finally to the pyramid and Eye on the dollar bill, the same current flows. It is the current of Pan, the All, eternal nature, the goat and ram, the pentagram of Venus, the Eye that sees all. This has nothing to do with Christ, for Christ is a mask placed over the same eternal cult. Beneath the mask stands Pan, the horned god of the ages, the one whom the Pythagoreans swore to, the one whose seal governs time, whose eye watches from the pyramid, and whose dominion is proclaimed as the New Order of the Ages.
So when pope Francis steps forward to unite all religions under one banner, perhaps we are finally seeing the answer — not the gospel of Christ, but the old oath to Pan, the All, resurfacing in plain sight.
The Ten Horns and the Ten Points: Pan’s Number Revealed
The Pythagoreans swore their most sacred oath upon the tetractys, the triangular arrangement of ten points. This is preserved by later writers like Iamblichus (Life of Pythagoras) who records the exact oath: “By him who gave to our soul the tetractys, fountain of ever-flowing nature.” To them, this was no mere diagram. It was the very structure of reality itself, the “fountain of eternal nature” as Iamblichus records. Each row unfolded the cosmic order: unity at the top, duality beneath it, the triad of harmony, and the tetrad of material space. The sum of these was ten, the decad, the perfect number, symbol of completion, totality, and the entire cosmos. In the tetractys, the Pythagoreans saw the map of all being, the order of Pan, the All.
This sacred ten does not disappear in later ages; rather, it reappears, clothed in new imagery but bearing the same essence. In the visions of the Apocalypse, the beast rises from the sea with ten horns (Revelation 13:1). Daniel had seen the same image before: a beast with ten horns, which are interpreted as kings and kingdoms (Daniel 7:7, 7:24). In both cases, the horns signify political powers, empires arrayed upon the earth. Yet their number is not arbitrary. Why ten horns? Because the beast itself is the worldly manifestation of the same eternal structure that the Pythagoreans revered. The ten horns of the beast are the ten points of the tetractys, the tenfold order of nature, the cosmic completeness of Pan made flesh in empire.
In this way, the beast is not merely a monster but the astral empire of Pan, the All, incarnated in worldly dominion. Each horn represents a projection of the cosmic totality, a kingdom reflecting one facet of eternal nature’s power. Just as the tetractys expresses unity, duality, harmony, and material space culminating in the decad, so too the horns express the totality of earthly rule brought under the dominion of Pan.
This explains why Revelation insists that the beast’s power is universal: “Authority was given him over every tribe, people, language, and nation” (Revelation 13:7). This universality mirrors the Pythagorean vision of number as the essence of all things. The beast’s ten horns are the mathematical and astral code of empire, the re-emergence of the Pythagorean tenfold order, the visible government of Pan upon the earth.
Thus, when the festival of renewal was fixed to the equinox and the Sun was bound to Aries the Ram, the same principle was at work. It was not an act of devotion to a redeemer but an alignment with the tenfold cosmic order. The equinox is the balance, the Ram is the horned power, and the horns themselves are the outward symbols of Pan’s all-encompassing rule. The calendar, the empire, and the beast are all harmonized to the same number.
The Eye above the pyramid in the Great Seal of the United States is the capstone of this continuity. The pyramid itself, with its four sides rising to one, mirrors the structure of the tetractys. The Eye is Pan’s consciousness, overseeing the unfolding of the new order of the ages. And just as the tetractys culminates in the decad, the seal proclaims a total, completed order, the Novus Ordo Seclorum; the visible manifestation of the eternal tenfold harmony.
What Daniel and Revelation describe as beasts with ten horns are not aberrations, but revelations of the same order the Pythagoreans guarded. They are the empire of Pan, the All, clothed in astral and political power, the same current that binds the equinox to Aries, the pentagram to Venus, the pyramid to the Eye. Beneath all masks, it is the oath to the tetractys that endures: allegiance to the tenfold cosmos, the fountain of eternal nature, the dominion of Pan.
Easter, Pan, and the Hidden Order Behind the Equinox
Most people think Easter is about the resurrection of Christ. But when you look closer; at the timing, the symbols, the astrology, and even the way prophecy describes the Ram, the Goat, and the Beast; a different picture emerges. The calendar itself betrays the truth: Easter has far less to do with Christ than it does with Pan, Venus, and the ancient Pythagorean brotherhood.
Yesterday I showed from Scripture that Christ rose on Saturday evening, Nisan 17, exactly 72 hours after being buried on Wednesday, Nisan 14, the day before the High Sabbath. This fulfills His prophecy of three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. That is the biblical timeline.
So why does the Roman Church not follow it? Why shift Easter away from the Hebrew calendar and fix it instead to the spring equinox?
The Equinox and the Ram
At the equinox, light and darkness balance perfectly. It’s one of the most powerful days in the occult calendar; a cosmic hinge-point when the forces of renewal surge into the world. And right at that moment the Sun enters the zodiac sign of Aries, the Ram.
Aries is not just a constellation; it’s a horned power. In myth it represents conquest, sacrifice, and the raw creative force of Nature. In other words: Pan. Every spring equinox, when the Sun rises into Aries, Pan is invoked; the All, eternal Nature, the horned god who governs the cycles.
So when the Roman Church fixed Easter to the equinox, they weren’t honoring the resurrection on its real date. They were binding their most important feast to the annual summoning of Pan.
Now notice something else. The whole Easter cycle is wrapped around Friday, called “Good Friday.” But Friday is not just any day. In the old planetary week it is the Day of Venus. Venus traces a perfect five-pointed star across the heavens every eight years; the pentagram, the Pythagorean seal of harmony and eternal return.
The pentagram was the secret sign of the Pythagorean brotherhood, who swore oaths “by the tetractys, the fountain of eternal nature.” It later became the star of the Queen of Heaven, another mask of cosmic power. So in Easter we find the day of Venus, the pentagram, fused with the equinoxal Ram. That’s not an accident.
So when the Church anchors Easter to Aries the Ram at the equinox, it is aligning itself not with Christ, but with the horned powers of Pan, Daniel’s ram and goat, and the beast of Revelation.
The Gregorian Reform: Urgency to Fix the Sun
By the 16th century, the drift of the old Julian calendar meant the equinox was slipping further and further away from March 21. The stars themselves are never fixed; because of precession, the equinox slowly shifts against the backdrop of the constellations, moving about one degree every 72 years. What was once the Sun in Aries at the equinox is now, astronomically, in Pisces, sliding toward Aquarius. The heavens change, but Rome was determined that the ritual date must not.
Pope Gregory XIII acted with urgency. In 1582, he issued the Gregorian reform, erasing ten days from the calendar to force the equinox back to March 21 and ensure that Easter would remain permanently tied to the equinoxal alignment. This was not about Christ. If it were, the true Hebrew reckoning; tied to the Passover and Nisan 17; would have been preserved. Instead, the pope; whose throne is nowhere found in Scripture, and who claims apostolic succession from Peter even though Irenaeus of Lyon testifies that both Peter and Paul together established the Church; bent the calendar itself, resisting the natural drift of the stars, to keep the rite locked to the astral hinge of Pan.
The urgency reveals the hidden priority: Easter had to remain anchored to the equinox, not to the resurrection on Nisan 17. The Roman Church chose the stars, not Scripture. So how can the "Mother Church" be Christian?
Priests of Dagon, Servants of Saturn
The mitre worn by bishops reveals yet another layer. Its fish-head shape is not a Christian crown but the headdress of the priests of Dagon, the Philistine fish-god. Reliefs from Mesopotamia show the same headgear worn by Dagon’s clergy. The Roman hierarchy are priests of Dagon, not of Christ.
And who is Dagon, Bel Harrī. Ancient sources describe him not merely as a fertility or grain god, but as a deity of the abyss, the underworld deep (hence the fish hat). In Mesopotamian texts, bel harrī means “lord of the pit” ; the chthonic cavern from which spirits were summoned. Dagon was tied to the apsu, the primordial waters beneath the earth, and his priests were often depicted with fish-headdresses to signify their role as mediators between the world of the living and the depths below.
The pit in biblical and apocalyptic language is not just a hole in the ground, but the abode of the dead — Sheol, Hades, the underworld. In Revelation 9, the “abyss” (Greek abussos) is opened and smoke pours out like a great furnace, releasing locust-like spirits upon the earth. This abyss is the same pit ruled in pagan thought by deities like Dagon. The priests of Dagon were functionally necromancers, invoking and channeling the shades of the dead through ritual.



This helps explain the Roman Church’s long-standing practice of praying to the “saints”; which is nothing less than the invocation of the spirits of the dead. In Scripture, God condemns necromancy and consulting the dead (Deuteronomy 18:10–12), yet Rome sanctifies it as “intercession.” The reality is that it is the very same practice that Dagon’s priests engaged in at the pit: calling upon the spirits of those who have passed, drawing power and guidance from the abyss.
So when we see bishops in their fish-head mitres, we are not looking at shepherds of Christ, but at the continuation of Dagon’s priesthood; ministers of the abyss, invoking the pit, channeling the dead. Their rites echo necromancy in holy dress, but at its root it is service to the lord of the pit, not the Lord of Heaven.
In plain words: the equinoxal Easter proves the Roman Church does not worship Christ. It worships Pan, through the power of Saturn (the adversary) officiated by the priesthood of Dagon, ensuring the Beast’s dominion endures as the New Order of the Ages.
The Biblical Indictment
The Scriptures themselves expose the Roman Church’s equinoxal Easter and priesthood as belonging not to Christ, but to Pan, Saturn, and Dagon.
John in Revelation describes the Beast: “And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns…” (Revelation 13:1). This Beast comes from the sea, the very domain of Dagon, the fish-god, whose priests wore the fish-head mitre. When we see Rome’s hierarchy dressed in the same attire, the parallel is unmistakable: a horned Beast rising from the abyssal waters, officiated by the priests of Dagon.
Later John says: “The beast that thou sawest was, and is not; and shall ascend out of the bottomless pit, and go into perdition…” (Revelation 17:8). And again: “And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit… and there came out locusts upon the earth” (Revelation 9:2–3). The abyss, the abussos, is the dwelling of the dead, the very pit from which Dagon — Bel Harrī, “lord of the pit” — was invoked. Rome’s practice of praying to saints is nothing more than necromancy, calling on the spirits of the dead, which Scripture condemns: “There shall not be found among you… one who consults with the dead. For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD” (Deuteronomy 18:10–11).
Jeremiah rebuked Israel for their idolatry, saying: “The children gather wood, and the fathers kindle the fire, and the women knead their dough, to make cakes to the queen of heaven” (Jeremiah 7:18). Yet Rome does the very same, exalting Mary as “Queen of Heaven,” celebrating Easter — Ishtar’s feast — with fertility rites of eggs and rabbits. It is Babylon’s goddess renewed, not Christ’s resurrection.
Daniel foresaw this corruption: “And he shall think to change times and laws” (Daniel 7:25). The pope did exactly that, erasing ten days from the calendar in 1582 to force the equinox back to March 21, ensuring Easter would remain fixed to the equinoxal alignment. If Rome were faithful, it would have preserved the Hebrew reckoning of Nisan 17. Instead, it rewrote time itself to serve the astral hinge of Pan.
Nor did the changes stop with the calendar. Rome even altered the Ten Commandments:
The 2nd Commandment, forbidding the making and worship of images, was removed in Catholic catechisms — conveniently excusing their shrines, statues, and icons. Yet God commanded clearly: “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above… Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them” (Exodus 20:4–5).
The 4th Commandment, sanctifying the seventh-day Sabbath, was replaced with Sunday observance, the day of the Sun. God said: “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy… the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD thy God” (Exodus 20:8,10). Rome changed it to align with Sol Invictus, Saturn’s cult of the Sun.
To disguise the alteration, they split the 10th Commandment against coveting into two separate parts, keeping the list at ten. But this deception cannot hide the truth: God’s law was tampered with.
In the wilderness, Israel made a golden calf and declared: “These be thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt” (Exodus 32:4). They worshipped a horned beast while claiming it represented the true God. Rome repeats this sin, celebrating Pan, the horned one, at Easter, while declaring it honors Christ. Revelation warns: “And deceiveth them that dwell on the earth… that they should make an image to the beast” (Revelation 13:14). Rome is filled with such images — the Eye of Pan over the pyramid, the cross merged with solar disks (the solar Ram), the mitre of Dagon.
Finally, John saw a woman seated on a scarlet beast: “And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS… And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints” (Revelation 17:5–6). Rome calls herself the “Mother Church,” seated on seven hills, inheriting the very symbols of Babylon; Ishtar, Saturn, and Pan; and cloaking them in Christian words. The equinoxal Easter is her central rite, not a celebration of Christ, but a mystery of empire’s allegiance to the Beast.
Do not let them make merchandise of your soul. Guard the astral light within, and as Christ said, keep your lamps burning. Your eternal life is not to be sold for a piece of barley, nor surrendered to men who worship the Beast in exchange for power and wealth.
References
Iamblichus, Life of Pythagoras (3rd c. CE) – oath to the tetractys as “fountain of eternal nature.”
Duncan, David. The Pythagorean Pentagram and Venus’ Cycle, Journal of the History of Astronomy, 1981.
Hijmans, Steven. Sol Invictus: The Sun in Late Antiquity, 2009.
Book of Daniel, chapter 8 – vision of the ram and goat as archetypes of empire.
Book of Revelation, chapter 13 – the beast with horns, the enthronement of astral dominion.
Thomson, Charles. Report on the Great Seal of the United States, 1782.
Eliade, Mircea. The Myth of the Eternal Return, Princeton University Press, 1954.
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