The smallest trigger can bring it back. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another while I was browsing through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes that remain hard to verify. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Transitions in power and click here culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. At times, it is enough just to admit. that certain lives leave an imprint without the need for self-justification. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.