Something small triggers it. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together when I reached for a weathered book left beside the window for too long. Moisture has a way of doing that. I lingered for more time than was needed, separating the pages one by one, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes that remain hard to verify. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once Without directness or any sense of formality. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Now I think that response was perfect.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that has click here come to represent modern Burmese history. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Missing conversations you could have had. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. 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 are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Utility is not the only measure of value. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.