It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together while I was browsing through an old book that’s been sitting 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 his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes whose origins have become blurred over time. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In a casual, non-formal tone. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional 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. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They focus on the consistency of his character. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. 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, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind get more info of person. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I remove the dust without much thought. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything has to be useful. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that certain lives leave an imprint never having sought to explain their own nature. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.