Something small triggers it. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. Such is the nature of humid conditions. My pause was more extended than required, ungluing each page with care, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations whose origins have become blurred over time. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Now I think that response was perfect.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They speak primarily of his consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if he read more were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require 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.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything has to be useful. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.