A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I paused longer than necessary, ungluing each page with care, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes whose origins have become blurred over time. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama 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 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 is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise that has come to represent website modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. I’m not sure how someone manages that without becoming rigid. That balance feels almost impossible.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. The dialogues that were never held. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. 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 the dust off in a distracted way The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not everything has to be useful. At times, it is enough just to admit. that some lives leave a deep impression. never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.