Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume that’s been sitting too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I lingered for more time than was needed, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. You don’t actually see them very much. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings whose origins have become blurred over time. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In a casual, non-formal tone. 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, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. 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. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the feeling stuck. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever attempting to more info provide an explanation. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.