Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together when I tried to flip through an old book left beside the window for too long. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes which lack a definitive source. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. Without directness or any sense of formality. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise that seems to define modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell more info on his beliefs or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That balance feels almost impossible.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. 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. Missing conversations you could have had. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that certain lives leave an imprint never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.