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. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, 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 frequently seen in the public eye. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes that remain hard to verify. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I remember once asking someone about him. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in click here my mind, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, 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 feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I wipe it away without thinking. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.