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 kept on a shelf too close to the window. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I lingered for more time than was needed, methodically dividing each page, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. You don’t actually see them very much. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations that no one can quite place. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In an indirect and informal manner. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was it. No elaboration. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional 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 find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They focus on the consistency of his character. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. more info The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. The dialogues that were never held. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. At times, it is enough just to admit. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without the need for self-justification. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.