Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together when I reached for a weathered book that’s been sitting too close to the window. That is the effect of damp air. I lingered for more time than was needed, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes which are difficult to attribute exactly. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. In a casual, non-formal tone. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every here moment.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that seems to define modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They speak primarily of his consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
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, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Letting misunderstandings stand. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I remove the dust without much thought. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. At times, it is enough just to admit. that certain lives leave an imprint never having sought to explain their own nature. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.