Totally agree with what you are saying Littlestone. Also, the same wood i saw the head, I heard hoofbeats/footbeats which passed right by us and we saw nothing, just a felt a 'gulp' rollercoaster feeling.
And I was on nothing but young love and fresh air. I promise.
PS recently reading Hill Of Dreams by Arthur Machen. he touches on much about perception and the linking of sexuality and the landscape mixed with occult/spirituality of a perceived ancient type. Sex and death being the process of Nature, I feel these things alter our perceptions more profoundly in young adulthood - measurably more than my (for-instance) approaching mid-life existential pondering. If there is a 'Truth' with a capital 'T', I believe it to be a raggedy-yet-smooth- willed and violent thing. Unconscionably efficient in it's struggle to procreate and live - to die and be reborn.
Maybe we feel this thing and lay our own experiences/symbols over it? Invent our 'maker' in the image of our own self-consciousness? Self-awareness?
But I *feel* that thing you and I call Pan, a lot. He sounds like a running stag, he smells like musk and ivy pollen/semen. This feeling has the eye of the lioness in Rousseau's 'The Dream'.