A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, ungluing each page with care, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings 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. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Now I think that response was perfect.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. 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. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. They speak primarily of his consistency. 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. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. But the feeling stuck. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I often ask myself what the cost more info of that specific character might be. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. 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.