Something small triggers it. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause while I was browsing through an old book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Humidity does that. I lingered for more time than was needed, ungluing each page with care, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which are difficult to attribute exactly. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. In a casual, non-formal tone. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the sense of the moment remained strong. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Missing conversations you could have had. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
There tharmanay kyaw is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.