A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together when I reached for a weathered book that’s been sitting too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, methodically dividing each page, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which lack a definitive source. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Not directly, not in a formal way. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. 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 must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. 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
I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if there was no other place he needed to be. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. 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 theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Letting misunderstandings stand. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. It could be that he didn't, and that may get more info be the very heart of it.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I remove the dust without much thought. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything needs to have a clear use. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.