A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together while I was browsing through an old book resting in proximity to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I paused longer than necessary, separating the pages one by one, 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, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes which are difficult to attribute exactly. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now I think that response was perfect.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort 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. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
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. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that some check here lives leave a deep impression. without ever trying to explain themselves. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.