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. Such is the nature of humid conditions. I lingered for more time than was needed, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
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 whose origins have become blurred over time. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. In a casual, non-formal tone. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Maybe I am testing a new here type of physical strain today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
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 subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I wipe it away without thinking. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that some lives leave a deep impression. never having sought to explain their own nature. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.