The smallest trigger can bring it back. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book that’s been sitting too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, ungluing each page with care, 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. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes whose origins have become blurred over time. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Without directness or any sense of formality. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was it. No elaboration. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented 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 keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, with the tharmanay kyaw air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. The dialogues that were never held. 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. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that certain existences leave a lasting trace. 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.