It is often a minor detail that sets it off. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume resting in proximity to the window. That is the effect of damp air. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, ungluing each page with care, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. You don’t actually see them very much. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings which are difficult to attribute exactly. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In a casual, non-formal tone. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” There was no further explanation given. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Now I think that response was perfect.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. 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.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They talk about consistency. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
A small scene continues to replay here in my thoughts, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
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. The dialogues that were never held. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I remove the dust without much thought. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything has to be useful. At times, it is enough just to admit. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without ever trying to explain themselves. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.