A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, ungluing each page with care, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. 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 whose origins have become blurred over time. When I think of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, he is defined by his absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Not directly, not in a formal way. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They talk about consistency. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change 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, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as if he were entirely free get more info from any sense of urgency. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the feeling stuck. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.
I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.