Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book left beside the window for too long. It's a common result of humidity. 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. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings that no one can quite place. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” That was it. No elaboration. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. 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. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. They speak primarily of his consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. more info Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. The dialogues that were never held. Letting misunderstandings stand. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I remove the dust without much thought. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. never having sought to explain their own nature. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.