A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. I paused longer than necessary, methodically dividing each page, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes that remain hard to verify. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. In a casual, non-formal tone. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Now I think that response was perfect.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, website but steadiness is arguably more demanding. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. 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. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the sense of the moment remained strong. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. The dialogues that were never held. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.