Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume that’s been sitting too close to the window. Humidity does that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, 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 frequently seen in the public eye. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which lack a definitive source. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. 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… very steady.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Now I think that response was perfect.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They speak primarily of his consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as though he possessed all the time in the world. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Memory blurs people together. But the sense of the moment remained strong. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the here external observer. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. At times, it is enough just to admit. that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.