Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another when I tried to flip through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I lingered for more time than was needed, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations whose origins have become blurred over time. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that characterizes the modern history of Burma. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. It more info is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the feeling stuck. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that 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 without ever trying to explain themselves. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.