Something small triggers it. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume placed too near the window pane. Humidity does that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, separating the pages one by one, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes that no one can quite place. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In an indirect and informal manner. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional 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. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He was tharmanay kyaw like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. That balance feels almost impossible.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he possessed all the time in the world. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I remove the dust without much thought. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Utility is not the only measure of value. At times, it is enough just to admit. that certain lives leave an imprint without ever trying to explain themselves. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.