The smallest trigger can bring it back. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together while I was browsing through an old book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I paused longer than necessary, separating the pages one by one, 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. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes that no one can quite place. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Not directly, not in a formal way. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. And yet, when people speak of him, they more info don’t talk about opinions or positions. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. 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. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. But the feeling stuck. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. 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. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. At times, it is enough just to admit. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.