The smallest trigger can bring it back. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book resting in proximity to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes which lack a definitive source. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I remember once asking someone about him. In an indirect and informal manner. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now I think that response was perfect.
Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. more info Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that characterizes the modern history of Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, as though he possessed all the time in the world. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. But the feeling stuck. 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. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Missing conversations you could have had. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I don’t know if he thought about 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 brush it off absentmindedly. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever trying to explain themselves. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.