A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book resting in proximity to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I lingered for more time than was needed, separating the pages one by one, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. They are not often visible in the conventional way. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes that no one can quite place. 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 remember once asking someone about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort 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.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They focus on the consistency of his character. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change How one read more avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That balance feels almost impossible.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he possessed all the time in the world. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the feeling stuck. 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 theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.