Something small triggers it. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. My pause was more extended than required, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. You don’t actually see them very much. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which are difficult to attribute exactly. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise 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 talk about consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if there was no other place he needed to be. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends check here to merge separate figures over time. Nonetheless, the impression remained. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I remove the dust without much thought. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not everything has to be useful. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.