A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together while I was browsing through an old book left beside the window for too long. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, separating the pages one by one, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken 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. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. 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 all—no further commentary was provided. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now I think that response was perfect.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They talk about consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That balance feels almost impossible.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if there was no other place he needed to be. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the feeling stuck. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Occasionally, read more it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without ever trying to explain themselves. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.