To Pan by HP Lovecraft
Hoofs it had instead of toes
And a beard adorn’d its throat.
On a set of rustic reeds
Sweetly play’d this hybrid man
Naught car’d I for earthly needs,
For I knew that this was Pan.
Nymphs and Satyrs gather’d round
To enjoy the lively sound.
All to soon I woke in pain
And return’d to haunts of men
But in rural vales I’d fain
Live and hear Pan’s pipes again.
The Will to Power and the Left-Hand Path
by Thomas LeRoy
“This world is the Will to Power—and nothing else! And you yourselves too are this Will to Power—and nothing else!” — Friedrich Nietzsche
No one is born on the left-hand path. None of you, you good Satanists, nor your lovely offspring. Not even the children of Anton LaVey. No one has self-determination (the essence of the left-hand path) as a small child. All are subject to “other-determination”, thus all are born on the right-hand path. It is on the RHP that one learns one’s cultural collective ways to deal with others and society in general. But even if you self-identify as a Satanist, you still must choose to take the left-hand path. And what is the fundamental reason for this choice?
Personal empowerment.
You choose to step on the LHP because you have a drive to further your power — to become more than you are. You are not one who is simply searching for spiritual enlightenment; it is much more than that. If it were only about reaching calm in your soul you’d join a church, or a Wiccan coven, or sit around with some hippies in the lotus position chanting some gibberish you think is Sanskrit, but has more in common with Pig-Latin. No, it’s more. You have a drive, a will, that compels you to do that which most fear. This “will” pushes you to gaze down into the abyss and not divert your eyes. You are not one who shrinks from the horrors of reality, nor do you struggle blindly, but live deliberately with a fervor for existence. Friedrich Nietzsche called this sense of joy and vitality accompanying the imposition of values on a otherwise meaningless world “tragic optimism”. It belies the “reality” that your world is not Will to Existence, but Will to Power.
The will to power is a natural force, one that propels all life. It is not the need to conquer one’s neighbors in a bloody raid, but to conquer one’s fears, phobias or short-comings. It is about the experience of joy felt when one “over-comes”. And the left-hand path is the individual’s path to “self-overcoming”. It is a truly life-affirming philosophy that brings forth a healthier you through individual development based upon personal needs and efforts.
On a deeper level, the will to power, though, explains the fundamental changing aspects of reality. Everything is in flux. Matter is always moving and changing, as are ideas, knowledge, and even truth. The will to power is the fundamental engine of this change. And on the left-hand path, one does not fear change, for it is change the individual seeks.
Change in one’s self
The Hyperborean: Going Beyond Christian Morality
From the beginning, Christianity and many other right-hand path philosophies have portrayed life as punishment and as a transitory state of being. The body is looked upon as a prison and is a danger to the soul; as such the individual has to live life according to specific rules of conduct to attain the recompense of the “Afterlife“. The here and now is all but ignored, reality little more than an introduction to a greater story to come.
The Hyperborean, the highest degree in the Sect (a name used by Nietzsche to describe those that live his philosophy), denies this notion as that of the weak in mind and spirit. It is the mentality of the slave. These slaves lack will and creativity and blindly follow authority, basing their lives on the notion of that perfect world to come. They are crippled by their own beliefs and do little to advance as people or a species since they value meekness and restraint. They are filled with the constant fear of going astray from what they see as the path of religious truth. Trapped in a moral system that will not allow them to truly exert their will, they internalize their rage. Guilt sets in, leading to self-contempt and depression.
What is most insidious is this “morality of the slave” has not only permeated the hearts and minds of the religious, but also those who claim no religious faith. Many take it as axiomatic that meekness, civility, communal cooperation are universal truths, and that the strong individualist, the Hyperborean, having created their own morality, is a selfish being. Since they dare to break the chains of an ancient moral code, they become social pariahs. But the status of outcast is a mark of honor to the Hyperborean, for a wild boar finds no joy in a pig-pen.
The Hyperborean is a person of action and a philosophical warrior. They dare to take chances, doing what most people only dream of. The Hyperborean is their own God, giving themselves morality and value as they see fit according to their will. They strive for personal structures to moral standards, thus calling for new ways of evaluating the world. These strong individualists have re-thought morality in their day to day lives, but by doing so they question what it means to be human, since humanity has always been based on a concept of morality which regulates social practices and norms. The Hyperboreans, though, test themselves and their vision against such regulations.
They unabashedly test their strengths against the world.
Mythological Guides on the Left-Hand Path
by Thomas LeRoy
Within the Sect, the use of mythological archetypes may vary from person to person. Most Satanic groups use Satan, and only Satan. We also utilize Pan, Cernunnos, Prometheus, Dionysus, the choice is yours; hence the name “The Sect of the Horned God” and not “The Sect of Satan”. These gods are guides to lead the individual through the deeper aspects of the Self, through the subconscious, past your demons and to the door of the collective unconscious, where aspects of these archetypes are recognized.
The collective unconscious consists of primordial images, the most ancient and universal “thought forms” of humanity. Carl Jung pieced together the theory of the collective unconscious when he noticed that some of his less educated patients created delusional images that he found to be analogous to symbolic representations from many religions and mythologies. The link between the dreams, fantasies and drawings of these patients and the symbolic structure of mythologies prompted Jung to speculate about a collective, or shared, origin of symbolic images. The horns and antlers of the Greco/Celtic gods, and the fire of Prometheus would be examples of recognizable universal symbols. The horns representing power, the fire knowledge. Together they become what a true Satanist is: a synthesis of strength through personal knowledge and knowledge through personal strength.
Time has brought us a myriad of gods from every culture. Most of these metaphorical representations tend to be guides upon the “right-hand path”. But some have a darker aspect. These archetypes lead you in a different direction, delving into that deeper sphere of the subconscious.
Here are but a few:
Set is a god of the desert, storms, disorder, violence and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religions. In Egyptian mythology, Set is portrayed as the usurper who killed and mutilated his own brother Osiris. Set was never a completely evil figure though. He protected the sun barge of Re, his benefactor, during its nightly journey through the Underworld.
Ahriman is the evil spirit in the dualistic doctrine of Zoroastrianism. His essential nature is expressed in his principal epithet—Druj, “the Lie.” The Lie expresses itself as greed, wrath, and envy. To aid him in attacking the light, the good creation of Ahura Mazdā, the Wise Lord, Ahriman created a horde of demons embodying envy and similar qualities.
Lucifer is another name for “the morning star, the planet Venus”. He is also known as the “Light-Bringer”, “Bringer of Dawn”. According to Ezekiel 28:13, a probable reference to Lucifer, we learn that he is an amazing being to behold: “You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was your covering: the sardius, topaz, and diamond, beryl, onyx, and jasper, sapphire, turquoise, and emerald with gold. The workmanship of your timbrels and pipes was prepared for you on the day you were created.”
Shiva is the destroyer of the world, after which Brahma again creates the world anew and so on. Shiva is responsible for change both in the form of death and destruction and in the positive sense of destroying the false identification of the Self.
Kali is the fearful and ferocious aspect of the mother goddess. She assumed the form of a powerful goddess and became popular with the composition of the Devi Mahatmya, a text of the 5th – 6th century AD. Here She is depicted as having been born from the brow of Goddess Durga during one of her battles with the evil forces. As the legend goes, in the battle, Kali got so carried away in the killing spree she began destroying everything in sight.
These gods of the left-hand path should not be ignored. If they come knocking on the door of your psyche welcome them in, for it is important to recognize the archetype that best represents you. Most will go with Satan, but some may find comfort in Nature and all things Celtic and thus are drawn to Cernunnos. Others to the carnality of Pan, or the revelry of Dionysus. And still others to the enlightenment of Prometheus; or the female aspects of Lilith, or Kali.
What’s important is that they should be a mirror of the Self.
“Gods suppressed become devils, and often it is these devils whom we first encounter when we turn inward.” –Joseph Campbell
Who Runs the Asylum? by Thomas LeRoy
Who runs the asylum?
Bent upon the edge,
Who scatters the dreams?
Left upon the ledge.
Who tastes the evil?
Ripe upon the tongue,
Who warns the weary,
Upon the broken rung.
Who sings the song?
As madness tempts the fools,
A step into the dark,
As phantoms break the rules.
Who’s voice is stifled?
As they scream in fear,
Who bleeds the most?
As you remove the spear.
Who scars the night?
A streak across the sky,
Who laughs the loudest,
On that day you die?
The Charge of the Horned God
“Listen to the words of the Horned God,
Guardian of all things untamed, Lord of Shadows, Master of Darkness,
And keeper of the Gates of Death whose call all must answer:
“I am the fire within your heart, the yearning of your soul.
I am the Hunter of Knowledge,
The Seeker of Truth,
I stand in the darkness of light, who you have named Death,
I throw open wide the Gates of Hell,
And unleash my minions!
But first I beckon ye forth,
To come unto me,
And learn the secrets of Death and Peace,
For I am the Infernal Lord, the Devourer of the Weak!
Scourge and Flame, blade and blood,
These are my gifts unto thee.
I, Keeper of the Black Flame,
Whom you seek in the darkness bright,
I, who has been called Pan, Cernunnos, Dionysus, Shiva and Satan,
For behold!
You are my children and I your father.
For whomever seeks me know I am the master of the Pit,
The fury of the storm in your soul!
On swift night wings go forth,
Seek me with pride and selfishness,
Reason and logic,
But best to seek me with lust and strength,
For this is my path!
Hail the Horned God!
Hail Thyself!
Hail the Sect!”
The Litanies Of Satan by Charles Baudelaire
O you, the most knowing, and loveliest of Angels,
a god fate betrayed, deprived of praises,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O, Prince of exile to whom wrong has been done, who, vanquished, always recovers more strongly,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know everything, king of the Underworld,
the familiar healer of human distress,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who teach even lepers, accursed pariahs, through love itself the taste for Paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O you who on Death, your ancient true lover,
engendered Hope – that lunatic charmer!
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who grant the condemned that calm, proud look
that damns a whole people crowding the scaffold,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know in what corners of envious countries
a jealous God hid those stones that are precious,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose clear eye knows the deep caches
where, buried, the race of metals slumbers,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose huge hands hide the precipice,
from the sleepwalker on the sky-scraper’s cliff,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who make magically supple the bones
of the drunkard, out late, who’s trampled by horses,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who taught us to mix saltpetre with sulphur
to console the frail human being who suffers,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who set your mark, o subtle accomplice,
on the forehead of Croesus, the vile and pitiless,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who set in the hearts and eyes of young girls
the cult of the wound, adoration of rags,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
The exile’s staff, the light of invention,
confessor to those to be hanged, to conspirators,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Father, adopting those whom God the Father
drove in dark anger from the earthly paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Hymn to Pan by Aleister Crowley
Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man! My man!
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady!
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me,
Come with Apollo in bridal dress
(Spheperdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,
In the moon, of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of of the amber fount!
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantoness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain -come over the sea,
(Io Pan ! Io Pan !)
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man! my man!
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill!
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring!
Come with flute and come with pipe!
Am I not ripe?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion, and sharp as an asp-
Come, O come!
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
All devourer, all begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye
And the token erect of thorny thigh
And the word of madness and mystery,
O pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan! Pan Pan! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake
In the grip of the snake.
The eagle slashes with beak and claw;
The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!
I am thy mate, I am thy man,
Goat of thy flock, I am gold , I am god,
Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.
With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks
Through solstice stubborn to equinox.
And I rave; and I rape and I rip and I rend
Everlasting, world without end.
Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man,
In the might of Pan.
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!
Hymn to Satan by Giosue Carducci
To you, creation’s
mighty principle,
matter and spirit
reason and sense
Whilst the wine
sparkles in cups
like the soul
in the eye
Whilst earth and
sun exchange
their smiles and
words of love
And shudders
from their secret embrace run down
from the mountains, and
the plain throbs with new life
To you my daring
verses are unleashed,
you I invoke, O Satan
monarch of the feast.
Put aside your sprinkler,
priest, and your litanies!
No, priest, Satan
does not retreat!
Behold! Rust
erodes the mystic
sword of Michael
and the faithful
Archangel, deplumed,
drops into the void.
The thunderbolt lies frozen
in Jove’s hand
Like pale meteors,
spent worlds,
the angels drop
from the firmament
In unsleeping
matter,
king of phenomena,
monarch of form,
Satan alone lives.
He holds sway in
the tremulous flash
of some dark eye,
Or the eye which languidly
turns and resists,
or which, bright and moist,
provokes, insists.
He shines in the bright
blood of grapes,
by which transient
joy persists,
Which restores fleeting
life, keeps
grief at bay,
and inspires us with love
You breathe, O Satan
in my verses,
when from my heart explodes
a challenge to the god
Of wicked pontiffs,
bloody kings;
and like lightning you
shock men’s minds.
Sculpture, painting
and poetry
first lived for you, Ahriman,
Adonis and Astarte,
When Venus
Anadyomene
blessed the
clear Ionian skies
For you the trees of
Lebannon shook,
resurrected lover
of the holy Cyprian:
For you wild dances were done
and choruses swelled
for you virgins offered
their spotless love,
Amongst the perfumed
palms of Idumea
where the Cyprian
seas foam.
To what avail did
the barbarous Christian
fury of agape,
in obscene ritual,
With holy torch
burn down your temples,
scattering their
Greek statuary?
You, a refugee,
the mindful people
welcomed into their homes
amongst their household gods
Thereafter filling the throbbing
female heart
with your fervor
as both god and lover
You inspired the witch,
pallid from endless enquiry,
to succor
suffering nature
You, to the intent gaze
of the alchemist,
and to the skeptical eye
of the sorcerer,
You revealed bright
new heavens
beyond the confines
of the drowsy cloister.
Fleeing from material
things, where you reside,
the dreary monk took refuge
in the Theban desert.
To you O soul
with your sprig severed,
Satan is benign:
he gives you your Heloise.
You mortify yourself to no purpose,
in your rough sackcloth:
Satan still murmurs to you
lines from Maro and Flaccus
Amidst the dirge
and wailing of the Psalms;
and he brings to your side
the divine shapes,
Roseate amidst that
horrid black crowd,
of Lycoris
and Glycera
But other shapes
from a more glorious age
fitfully fill
the sleepless cell.
Satan, from pages
in Livy, conjures fervent
tribunes, consuls,
restless throngs;
And he thrusts you,
O monk, with your memories
of Italy’s proud past
upon the Capitol.
And you whom the raging
pyre could not destroy,
voices of destiny,
Wycliffe and Huss,
You lift to the winds
your waning cry:
‘The new age is dawning,
the time has come’.
And already mitres
and crowns tremble:
from the cloister
rebellion rumbles
Preaching defiance
in the voice of the
cassocked Girolamo
Savonarola
As Martin Luther
threw off his monkish robes,
so throw off your shackles,
O mind of man,
And crowned with flame,
shoot lightning and thunder;
Matter, arise;
Satan has won.
Both beautiful and awful
a monster is unleashed
it scours the oceans
is scours the land
Glittering and belching smoke
like a volcano,
it conquers the hills
it devours the plains.
It flies over chasms,
then burrows
into unknown caverns
along deepest paths;
To re-emerge, unconquerable
from shore to shore
it bellows out
like a whirlwind,
Like a whirlwind
it spews its breath:
‘It is Satan, you peoples,
Great Satan passes by’.
He passes by, bringing blessing
from place to place,
upon his unstoppable
chariot of fire
Hail, O Satan
O rebellion,
O you avenging force
of human reason!
Let holy incense
and prayers rise to you!
You have utterly vanquished
the Jehova of the Priests.
Druids: The Dark Holy Men of the Celts
by Thomas LeRoy ~ Founder of The Sect of the Horned God
Most of what we know of the ancient Druids was written by the Greeks and Romans, enemies of the Celts. And what they have written of these “Men of the Oak” has not been flattering. Today’s Druids play at being the jovial nature lovers, marching around Stonehenge on the Solstices performing rituals created in the early 19th century. But were the Druids really happy tree-huggers, or did they have a darker side?
The Druids were the Celtic priests, philosophers, judges and soothsayers who convened with the gods, and divined the future. They were political advisers who had influence over the decisions of kings and chiefs. The Druids were extremely powerful in Celtic society, a society known for its beautiful art, mythology, warrior culture and head-hunting.
Roman texts accuse the Druids of performing human sacrifice. According to Caesar, the Druids believed that “The Gods delight in the slaughter of prisoners and criminals, and when the supply of captives runs short, they sacrifice even the innocent”. Tacitus claims the Druids “…deemed it a pious duty to cover their altars with the blood of captives and to consult their deities through human entrails.” Diodorus Siculus claims that the Druids, “… choose a person for death and stab him or her in the chest above the diaphragm. By the convulsion of the victim’s limbs and the spurting of blood, they foretell the future.”
We may be shocked at Celtic sacrifice and head-hunting, as were the Greeks and Romans, and wonder if such reports could have been exaggerated, seeking to portray the Celts as barbarians, thus giving Rome justification to conquer. But, in truth, the classical reports don’t even begin to compare with the gruesome evidence archaeologists have unearthed.
At Roquepertuse in southern France, a Celtic sanctuary from the third century B.C., yielded concrete evidence of severed heads used in rituals. A substantial Iron Age walled fort was in place there with a cultic shrine, dominated by decorative porticos with niches. Real and sculpted human heads were exhibited in these niches: the portico apparently constituted something of a gallery of heroes.
In Britain in the 1980’s, the bog-mummified body of a Druidic sacrifice “Lindow Man” came to light. Evidence showed that he was a person of high rank, perhaps even a Druid himself, killed about the time of the Roman invasions. Did the Druids do this to appease the gods so that they may aid them against the Romans?
Then came the discovery in 2000 of 150 human skeletons, found in a cave in Alveston, England. Evidence showed that the Druids may have killed their victims in a single event. It’s possible that the Roman invasion itself was responsible for the escalation in the Druids’ ritualized slaughter, according to the researchers.
Now, is it fair to judge the Druids through the filter of the 21st century? No.
The Celts were a people of their time. A brutal age. But still, the modern Druids should not ignore the fact that true Druidism is soaked in blood.
The Orders of The Sect of the Horned God
