Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together when I reached for a weathered book left beside the window for too long. That is the effect of damp air. I paused longer than necessary, ungluing each page with care, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. You don’t actually see them very much. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations whose origins have become blurred over time. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. 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. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” There was no further explanation given. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They talk about 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 particular harmony feels incredibly rare
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way click here of blending people's identities. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That sense of not being rushed by 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. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.