It is often a minor detail that sets it off. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another when I tried to flip through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, separating the pages one by one, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. You don’t actually see them very much. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations whose origins have become blurred over time. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. In a casual, non-formal tone. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was it. No elaboration. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Now I think that response was perfect.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal 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. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. I’m not sure how someone manages that without becoming rigid. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
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. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Missing conversations you could have had. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Not everything has to be useful. At times, it is enough just to admit. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever trying to explain themselves. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. click here A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.