Exegesis THE CHARIOT (VII) Sentences 1–3

1 Let two pieces of black linen be assembled for thy garment
2 Let purple be added thereto, and for thy pilgrim’s feet, wear sandals
3 Let your hair grow and gather it at the highest point

*

1 Let two pieces of black linen be assembled for thy garment.
Black linen first refers to initiatory matter: the fabric of priests, embalmers, and travelers between worlds. Black is not absence here, but a receptacle — it absorbs light in order to contain it more fully. The two pieces evoke a fundamental duality: visible and invisible, body and spirit, work and operator. Their assembly marks the passage toward active unity. The garment thus becomes a ritual seal, a conscious envelope for the one who sets himself in motion. To clothe oneself is to accept a function, not a social role.

2 Let purple be added thereto, and for thy pilgrim’s feet, wear sandals.
Purple is the color of inner sovereignty. It is neither ostentatious nor decorative: it signals the mastery of opposing forces — the red of blood, the blue of spirit. To add purple to black linen is to inscribe nobility within shadow, royalty within asceticism. The sandals, for their part, recall the pilgrim, the prophet, the one who walks without possessing the land he crosses. They maintain a direct contact with the ground without becoming rooted in it. The Chariot moves forward, yet remains light: it does not conquer — it passes through.

3 Let your hair grow and gather it at the highest point.
Hair is an antenna, a living memory, an extension of vital breath. To let it grow is to refuse social cutting, to refuse normalization. To gather it at the highest point is to orient this energy upward, toward the point of junction between sky and body. This gesture forms an axis: thought is held, channeled, not dispersed. The summit becomes a center of command, like the invisible crown of the Chariot. Nothing is abandoned. Everything is mastered.