It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause while I was browsing through an old book resting in proximity to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I paused longer than necessary, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which lack a definitive source. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once Without directness or any sense of formality. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I’m not sure how someone manages that without becoming rigid. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as if there was no other place he needed to be. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I find myself questioning the personal toll check here of being such an individual. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.