Something small triggers it. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Humidity does that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, methodically dividing each page, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. You don’t actually see them very much. 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. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember once asking someone about him. Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. 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 speak primarily of his 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
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. The dialogues that were never held. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I don’t know more info if he thought about these things. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.