The smallest trigger can bring it back. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. It's a common result of humidity. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, separating the pages one by one, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes that remain hard to verify. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. Not directly, not in a formal way. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was it. No elaboration. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw tharmanay kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. 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’s a small moment I keep replaying, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as if there was no other place he needed to be. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Memory blurs people together. But the feeling stuck. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. 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. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush it off absentmindedly. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not everything has to be useful. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever trying to explain themselves. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.