A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. That is the effect of damp air. My pause was more extended than required, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings which are difficult to attribute exactly. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. 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, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. 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 ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom can be admired from afar. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They focus on the consistency of his character. 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.
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 slowly and tharmanay kyaw methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the feeling stuck. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that certain lives leave an imprint never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.