A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume placed too near the window pane. Moisture has a way of doing that. I paused longer than necessary, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. You don’t actually see them very much. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes which lack a definitive source. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction 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 focus on the consistency of his character. 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 balance feels almost impossible.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. It might have been here another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the sense of the moment remained strong. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. The dialogues that were never held. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I don’t know if he thought about these things. 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 the paper. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.