A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I tried to flip through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I paused longer than necessary, methodically dividing each page, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. You don’t actually see them very much. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which are difficult to attribute exactly. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. Without directness or any sense of formality. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as if there was no other place he needed to be. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from website 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. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that certain lives leave an imprint without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.