The smallest trigger can bring it back. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another while I was browsing through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. My pause was more extended than required, separating the pages one by one, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
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, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings that no one can quite place. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Not directly, not in a formal way. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was it. No elaboration. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. It tharmanay kyaw is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction 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. They talk about consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.