Something small triggers it. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause while I was browsing through an old book resting in proximity to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, ungluing each page with care, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. 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 remain hard to verify. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Not directly, not in a formal way. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
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. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. 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 level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as if there was no other place he needed to be. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I do not know if such website thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. 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 needs to have a clear use. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without the need for self-justification. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.