A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book left beside the window for too long. Humidity does that. I paused longer than necessary, ungluing each page with care, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations whose origins have become blurred over time. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. 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 day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. 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. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom can be admired from afar. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that has come to represent modern Burmese history. 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 was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That balance feels almost impossible.
I frequently return to a specific, minor read more memory, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he possessed all the time in the world. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the feeling stuck. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. Not everything has to be useful. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever trying to explain themselves. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.