The smallest trigger can bring it back. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together while I was browsing through an old book that’s been sitting too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings which are difficult to attribute exactly. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. Without directness or any sense of formality. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint 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. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They focus on the consistency of read more his character. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the sense of the moment remained strong. 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. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I brush it off absentmindedly. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Not everything has to be useful. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.