It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book resting in proximity to the window. Humidity does that. I lingered for more time than was needed, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. They are not often visible in the conventional way. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that remain hard to verify. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I remember once asking someone about him. In a casual, non-formal tone. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” There was no further explanation given. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
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. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu more info meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the feeling stuck. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that certain lives leave an imprint without ever attempting to provide an explanation. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.