Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book kept on a shelf too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, separating the pages one by one, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes which are difficult to attribute exactly. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. 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 an occasion when I inquired about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. They focus on the consistency of his character. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, 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. But the feeling stuck. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. The dialogues that were never held. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I remove the dust without much thought. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. 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 ever trying to explain themselves. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A check here presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.