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 tried to flip through an old book placed too near the window pane. It's a common result of humidity. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, separating the pages one by one, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes which lack a definitive source. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. 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. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. As get more info 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. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as if there was no other place he needed to be. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. Nonetheless, the impression remained. 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 theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. 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. At times, it is enough just to admit. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever attempting to provide an explanation. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.