The Compass of Enoch
By Boyd Rice
Comparative
mythology guru Joseph Campbell went on record as saying that
if you’re on the right path, there will be times in your
life when it will seem as thought you’re being "guided
by invisible hands." These hands will "open
doors that you never knew existed", and lead you to where
you need to go. It has certainly seemed to be the case in
regard to our own researches. On more than one occasion (many
more) Tracy Twyman or I had seemed to have come up against
a brick wall, when suddenly a peculiar intuition or a book
picked up and opened at random provided the very clue we needed
to proceed to the next level of our inquiry. A medium whom
we know told us that the spirit of Jean Cocteau was watching
over us, and perhaps he was, because so many of these odd
coincidences seem to relate to Cocteau and his role visavis
the Priory of Sion. The most spectacular of our discoveries
in regard to Cocteau has to do with an elaborate geometrical
configuration encoded into his mural at the Chapel of St.
Peter. We have chosen to call this configuration the Compass
of Enoch.
Having discovered the symbolism and geometry described in
the article Secret History and Sacred Geometry, I was
satisfied that I’d done as complete a job as possible
deciphering what Cocteau had intended to convey. Yet a nagging
instinct kept telling me I’d missed out on something
somehow. Something pivotal remained there, yet to be found.
I poured over the charts and diagrams I’d made. I compared
them to other Cocteau murals. Then it hit me. Nowhere did
I see the M figure so prominent in the other murals. Going
back to the photo enlargement of the St. Peter mural, I saw
an M shape almost instantaneously. It was formed by two points
on the archway of the vaulted ceiling on the top, and on the
bottom. It was entirely consistent with the pentagonal grid
I’d already identified, and appeared to be made up of
two overlapping pentagonal triangles. The dots that identified
the uppermost peaks of the M were repeated down the archway
in a semicircle. This suggested that more M shapes might
be present in other angles. This proved to be true, but the
cropping of the photo prevented me from following this idea
to its logical conclusion. Again I’d hit a dead end.
But again I had a peculiar bit of intuition. What if a series
of these Ms (as my initial research seemed to suggest) were
patterned in a circle so as to form some sort of bizarre configuration?
IT seemed logical that there might possibly be thirteen such
Ms, as M is the thirteenth letter of the alphabet, and thirteen
Ms would be the equivalent to M.M.  Mary Magdalen. I drew
a circle marked with 26 points, two for each of the topmost
points of the thirteen Ms. When I completed the operation
I was flabbergasted. Before me was a geometrical configuration
like unto none I’d ever seen. It possessed an unbelievable
sense of symmetry, order, and harmony. It seemed both simple
and complex at once. It was like a star pattern with thirteen
dualpointed prongs; that is to say, 26 points in all. It
looked not unlike a number of other occult star patterns,
yet seemed to possess eccentric characteristics which made
it wholly unique.
Could this strange starlike geometric pattern be Cocteau’s
rendering of Mary Magdalen as Venus the Morning Star? And
if not, what are the probabilities of decoding a handful of
esoteric references, following them to their logical conclusions,
and arriving at a geometric figure composed of thirteen superimposed
letters of any kind? The odds must surely be astronomical.
Assuming a person consciously contrived to set out to create
such a configuration, the process involved in arriving at
it would no doubt be long and arduous. They’d probably
need advanced skills in math and geometry, neither of which
I possess. Yet I sketched this out in a few minutes time with
a straight edge and ball point pen, based only on the pattern
which seemed implied and the order it seemed to suggest.
Though I was very pleased with the outcome, it seemed that
the figure had to represent more than merely a decorative
pattern. It’s very order and symmetry seemed to suggest
it might serve some other functional purpose of some sort.
The very fact that I had been able to arrive at this configuration
seemed to constitute proof that the clues which had lead me
here had some kind of tangible meaning and veracity. But I
felt that the meaning surely went deeper, and extended to
levels beyond what I was able to immediately recognize (and
perhaps beyond my capacity to comprehend.)
Because this was based on geometry, I experimented with placing
numbers at that points of the stars. After a few elementary
tests, I discovered that this configuration could be employed
as a sort of simplistic calculator. By choosing a number (8,
for instance) and adding any even number, one could trace
the lines back and forth across the circle (starting at the
first number chosen) the same amount of times as the number
being added, and arrive at the correct sum at the end of the
process. To subtract, one merely followed the same process
in a counterclockwise manner. For uneven numbers, one merely
added or subtracted a 1 as indicated. This, of course, is
highly simplistic, and seems hardly to possess any real functional
benefit. But it’s significant insofar as it reveals the
presence of a mathematical/geometric principle encoded in
the very shape of this star. That being the case, there is
a distinct possibility that this symbol could very well possess
the capability of being used for some higher order of computation.
Even as deceptively simple a calculation device as this is,
it could be applied in an infinite variety of ways. The configuration
itself could be a key, along with which a countless variety
of prearranged variables could be applied. The numbers 1,
2 and 3 could just as easily be converted to denominations
of 150, 300, 450 or virtually any other equivalent multiple.
The lines between the various points could represent, for
instance, a day’s journey, and a simple single letter
code could indicate the difference between a day’s journey
by foot, horse or sea. With as few as two or three letters,
a code could be implied telling how far distant reinforcements
were from an embattled army. A few more letters added could
reveal their numeric strength. One can imagine a system like
this being employed by the Knights Templar, whether in warfare
or in banking. Travelers depositing gold in a Paris repository
of the Templars could be given a receipt encoded with a few
letters or symbols, and redeem the slip in Florence or Jerusalem
for the exact same amount. In short, any variety of secrets
could be vouchsafed from the intrusion of prying eyes. The
sequence of letters of numbers on the circle could have been
altered on a semiregular basis, so that even someone in possession
of a key would find breaking the code an impossibility without
knowledge of the updated variables. This configuration, then,
could represent a medieval version of the WWII enigma machine.
We can’t say, of course, whether this was the coding
device used by the Templars. But it’s evident from even
the most obvious applications of this symbol which we’re
thus far deduced that such a device would have been very advantageous
to any organization with secrets to keep. Since Jean Cocteau
seems to have been privy to a good many secrets having to
do with the Templars and their inner doctrine, the possibility
that this system is linked to them cannot be ruled out. Of
course, Cocteau was an ingenious individual, and it is highly
possible that this icon was something he created, as a key
to unlocking the secrets encoded deep within the recesses
of his own work. Both possibilities are compelling
It seemed likely that this star could probably be used for
multiplication and division as well, and after a few tentative
experiments, the thesis was borne out. Depending on the sequence
of numbers used, the device could have radically different
applications. Thus far, every variation I could think of testing
worked out with amazing precision. In one of the more straightforward
applications, I chose a sequence of numbers starting with
3 and 9. If you start at the number 9 and trace the lines
of the star back and forth four times it leads you to 36,
or 4 x 9. The same procedure done twentyfour times leads
you to 216, or 24 x 9. The process is consistent and reliable,
and works with equal precision on the sequence based on multiples
of 3. An interesting byproduct of using sequences based on
3 and 9 is that all the subsequent numbers produced bear the
same intrinsic mathematical relationship to one another as
the 3 and 9, i.e., 9 is 3 three times. So, for instance, if
162 follows 54, you can conclude that 162 = 54 x 3. Or if
216 follows 72, you can conclude that 216 = 72 x 3. And the
same is true with all the other numbers involved, so the math
is working on two levels at once, producing a series of numbers
based on even multiples, and another series based on multiples
of three. These are fairly simple calculations, and most people
could undoubtedly do the math in their heads. But again, any
number could be chosen as the starting point which defines
the sequence that follows, and the number of possible combinations
and permutations is virtually infinite. But another interesting
function is possible: if (as we suspect) this symbol dates
back to antiquity, it could have been used to allow people
with no knowledge of arithmetic to make accurate calculations.
Remember that in the Middle Ages, most people were illiterate,
even kings. Realistically, only a handful of people then living
would even have had the need to calculate numbers on even
the level thus demonstrated. Presumably, most would only have
needed to know enough math to keep track of their sheep, chickens,
goats, and so on (a process which in most cases would be done
with their ten fingers.)
But we suspect that this configuration could well have possessed
other uses. It could possibly have been a calendar of some
sort, with each of its 26 points representing 26 weeks, or
a period of six months. A sixmonth calendar might make sense
since our modern system based on sixes dates back to Sumeria,
from whence we got the 60second minute, 60minute hour and
so forth. Using a calendar such as this would have allowed
the ancients to map out the exact amount of time between the
winter and summer equinoxes. After marking a passage of 26
weeks, they would merely have to reverse the process to begin
charting the next sixmonth period, ending the mapping of
the year back at the same equinox they started at. Since the
equinoxes marked the times of planting and harvest (elements
crucial to their survival), it’s easy to see how a device
such as this would have been useful.
Having found most of these preliminary hypotheses valid and
demonstrable, the question naturally arose as to whether any
other ancient symbols might perhaps possess similar capabilities.
Since some of the shapes contained in the object of our study
seemed suggestive of those formed in the cross used by the
Knights of Malta, I sketched out a Maltese Cross. Intuition
suggested superimposing a second such cross overtop of it,
resulting in an 8pointed star. Almost immediately, it appeared
that this symbol, too was possessed of the same intrinsic
function  albeit on a much more limited scale. It began to
wonder how many ancient symbols concealed this attribute.
Remembering an odd 8pointed Templar cross that Tracy Twyman
and I had seen at RennesleChateau, I tested it and found
similar results. If each movement around the cross represented
the base number multiplied by the number of moves, this would
be a very elementary method of showing someone basic multiplication.
But it also revealed another layer of meaning. For each straight
line connecting a larger number and a smaller number, the
larger number represents the sum of the smaller number added
to the base number. It’s altogether obvious why this
should occur, and yet the result somewhat surprised me. And
again, though this is utterly fundamental in its simplicity
(one could even say primitive), this symbol dates back to
a time when the foundations of some of the most complex cathedrals
in Europe were laid out by men using ropes marked off with
knots for measuring devices. And too, although the numbers
we’ve chosen to demonstrate this are purposely simple,
virtually any number sequence could be substituted to achieve
an identical result. It is as though this is a highly elementary
version of the more complex 26pointed star.
The
26 points on the star are, as I have said, dual points on
a 13pronged star. Since this star represents only a sixmonth
period, a second such star (representing the rest of the year)
can be superimposed overtop this, representing 13 sets of
four, or 13 months comprised of four weeks each, resulting
in a sum of 52 weeks. It is said that the original zodiac
had thirteen houses. If so, the number would seem to add up.
This is the hypothesis that Tracy Twyman has arrived at, and
has discovered a system based on thirteen months comprised
of 28 equal days each, resulting in a year of 364 days. These
numbers seem to make even more sense, and I refer the reader
to her calculations presented in the article The Cutting
of the Orm in this issue.
At any rate, having only scratched the surface, we’ve
found that this configuration can be used as an encrypting
device, a calculator for addition, subtraction and multiplication,
and who knows what else. It is a calendar, perhaps a symbol
of the zodiac, and a key used for the understanding of and
initiation into the mysterious realm of sacred geometry. Copies
of this sigil and our admittedly rudimentary enquiries into
its possible functions/applications have been forwarded to
experts in the field of trigonometry, and worldclass cryptologists.
No one who’s seen it thus far possessed any previous
knowledge of its existence.
Taking our inquiry a step further, I tested the hypothesis
that this emblem could have been used to calculate the passage
of time  that it was used as a clock of some sort. Using
Tracy Twyman’s theory (predicated upon the Compass of
Enoch) that time may once have been calculated in sums of
13, 26, 52 and so on as my point of departure, I immediately
arrived at some very specific results. In her system there
are 13 months in a year, 26 hours in a day, and 52 weeks in
a year. In other words, they are all multiples of thirteen.
There are also 52 seconds in a minute and 52 minutes in an
hour. Redefining the measuring of hours, minutes, seconds,
etc, would seem utterly, gratuitous, except for the fact that
the numbers all add up, and possess a sense of inner logic
above and beyond our own current system of reckoning time.
The numbers all echo one another. The smallest measurement
is defined by the same number of component units as the largest:
the 52 seconds in a minute echo the 52 weeks in a year. Note
also that the day has 52 halfhours. More stunningly, a week
is composed of 364 halfhours, which reflect precisely the
Golden Year’s 364 days. So each unit of measure can be
shown to coincide precisely with each other unit of measure.
Thos which don’t are multiples of one another.
How all of this could be used to make the Compass of Enoch
into a working clock can be demonstrated just as easily. Used
in conjunction with a free swinging pendulum, the likes of
which can be seen in many museums of science, the two could
have made a very functional (and very precise) timepiece.
How it works is this: the pendulum swings back and forth,
moving slowly around the perimeter of a circle. As it progresses,
it knocks down dominoshaped pieces of wood, thus marking
the passage of time. Its clockwise forward motion is facilitated
by the turning of the Earth, and it completes its journey
around the circle in one full day and night. Therefore, if
the Compass were divided into two halves (one representing
day and the other night), those using it would be able to
calculate the passage of time at night, when no sun or shadows
were present. This theory has been run past Andrew Novik,
who works at the atomic clock in Boulder, Colorado, and Novik
concurs that the notion appears wholly likely, particularly
within the context of the Golden Age hypothesis in which night
and day would have been consistently equal year round.
So there you have it: a few preliminary theories about what
the Compass of Enoch is and how it may have possibly been
used. These examples have been limited to only a few because
of space constraints in this magazine. There are many more.
While these examples are surely theoretical, they seem to
be supported by a large number of readily demonstrable facts
 very compelling facts. And we were lead to these theories
and facts not by mere baseless conjecture, but by a very real
geometric pattern revealed to us by Jean Cocteau. These initial
discoveries in turn lead us to ideas we might never have otherwise
explored or formulated  ideas that have opened a possible
window into our ancient past, and to the world as it might
have existed in the fabled Golden Age. These ideas will be
explored in depth by Tracy Twyman in her article on the Golden
Calendar. Read on...
