Something small triggers it. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. Humidity does that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. You don’t actually see them very much. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which are difficult to attribute exactly. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In an indirect and informal manner. 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… he possesses great steadiness.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
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. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs 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 balance feels almost impossible.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. 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. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I wipe it click here away without thinking. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Not everything needs to have a clear use. At times, it is enough just to admit. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without ever trying to explain themselves. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.