Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another while I was browsing through an old book left beside the window for too long. That is the effect of damp air. My pause was more extended than required, methodically dividing each page, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. 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 are difficult to attribute exactly. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. 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 illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if there was no other place he needed to be. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the feeling stuck. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Utility is not the only measure of value. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that certain lives leave an imprint without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence felt more than understood, and click here maybe meant to stay that way.