It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I reached for a weathered book placed too near the window pane. That is the effect of damp air. My pause was more extended than required, ungluing each page with care, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that no one can quite place. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language
I remember seeking another's perspective on him once Without directness or any sense of formality. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Now I think that response was perfect.
It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That balance feels almost impossible.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. An image of a monk arranging here his robes with great deliberation, as if there was no other place he needed to be. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I brush the dust off in a distracted way The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Utility is not the only measure of value. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that some lives leave a deep impression. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.