Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, ungluing each page with care, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which lack a definitive source. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once Not directly, not in a formal way. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” There was no further explanation given. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Now I think that response was perfect.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after 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. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
A small scene continues 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, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. 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 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. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Letting others project their own read more expectations onto your silence. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I wipe it away without thinking. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.