Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book resting in proximity to the window. That is the effect of damp air. I lingered for more time than was needed, ungluing each page with care, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations that remain hard to verify. 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. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember once asking someone about him. Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom can be admired from afar. 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 characterizes the modern history of Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They talk about consistency. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. I’m not sure how someone manages that without becoming rigid. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if there was no other place he needed to be. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Allowing people to see website in you whatever they require I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush it off absentmindedly. 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. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.