Something small triggers it. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together when I reached for a weathered book resting in proximity to the window. That is the effect of damp air. My pause was more extended than required, separating the pages one by one, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which lack a definitive source. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Now I think that response was perfect.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They focus on the consistency of his character. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I find more info myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.