A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume that’s been sitting too close to the window. Humidity does that. I paused longer than necessary, ungluing each page with care, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that remain hard to verify. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They talk about consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That balance feels almost impossible.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, with the air read more of someone who had no other destination in mind. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. 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 dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. The dialogues that were never held. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. 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 the paper. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever trying to explain themselves. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.