The smallest trigger can bring it back. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together while I was browsing through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not often visible in the conventional way. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which are difficult to attribute exactly. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. In a casual, non-formal tone. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” 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 illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that seems to define modern Burmese history. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They talk about consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
A small scene continues more info to replay in my thoughts, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the feeling stuck. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I don’t know if he thought about these things. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything has to be useful. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that certain lives leave an imprint without ever trying to explain themselves. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.