Something small triggers it. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book left beside the window for too long. Humidity does that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, methodically dividing each page, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.
There’s something strange about respected figures like him. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings which lack a definitive source. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In an indirect and informal manner. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
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. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal read more opinions They talk about consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.
I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if there was no other place he needed to be. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I brush the dust off in a distracted way The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not everything has to be useful. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.