Something small triggers it. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. My pause was more extended than required, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
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, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that no one can quite place. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In an indirect and informal manner. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was it. No elaboration. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. 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. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They talk about consistency. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That balance feels almost impossible.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as if there was no other place he needed to be. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
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 quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. The dialogues that were never held. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. There is tharmanay kyaw no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.