Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I reached for a weathered book left beside the window for too long. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I lingered for more time than was needed, ungluing each page with care, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes that no one can quite place. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In a casual, non-formal tone. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” There was no further explanation given. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They emphasize his remarkable consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. 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, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Memory blurs people together. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
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 subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Missing conversations you could have had. Accepting read more that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that some lives leave a deep impression. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.