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 left beside the window for too long. That is the effect of damp air. I lingered for more time than was needed, methodically dividing each page, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
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, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which lack a definitive source. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In an indirect and informal manner. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. 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 witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that seems to define modern Burmese history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. They speak primarily of his consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I don’t know if he thought about these things. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
My hands more info are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.