The smallest trigger can bring it back. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. I lingered for more time than was needed, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. You don’t actually see them very much. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings 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 remember seeking another's perspective on him once Without directness or any sense of formality. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Now I think that response was perfect.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. 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 that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That more info sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. 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 certain lives leave an imprint without feeling the need to explain their own existence. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.