Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book placed too near the window pane. That is the effect of damp air. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. You don’t actually see them very much. 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. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I remember once asking someone about him. Not directly, not in a formal way. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” There was no further explanation given. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now I think that response was perfect.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just 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 am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Changes in click here politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that seems to define modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They speak primarily of his consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.