Something small triggers it. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book left beside the window for too long. That is the effect of damp air. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, separating the pages one by one, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. You don’t actually see them very much. 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. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. In a casual, non-formal tone. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Now I think that response was perfect.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He served here as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I’m not sure how someone manages that without becoming rigid. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, 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 blurs people together. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. 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. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without the need for self-justification. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.