A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together while I was browsing through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, methodically dividing each page, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which are difficult to attribute exactly. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort 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 must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. 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. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I wipe it away without thinking. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An tharmanay kyaw influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.