Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. It's a common result of humidity. I paused longer than necessary, methodically dividing each page, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes that remain hard to verify. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “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.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They speak primarily of his consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if there was no other place he needed to be. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the website outside. Missing conversations you could have had. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.