A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book that’s been sitting too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I paused longer than necessary, methodically dividing each page, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which are difficult to attribute exactly. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. 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 I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. 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.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. He served as a stationary get more info reference point amidst a sea of change It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. That balance feels almost impossible.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without the need for self-justification. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.