Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another while I was browsing through an old book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations that no one can quite place. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. Not directly, not in a formal way. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They talk about consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. The dialogues that were never held. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his click here mind. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Not everything needs to have a clear use. At times, it is enough just to admit. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. never having sought to explain their own nature. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.