It is often a minor detail that sets it off. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another when I reached for a weathered book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I lingered for more time than was needed, separating the pages one by one, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which lack a definitive source. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. A lack of showmanship, a lack of haste, and a lack of justification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Not directly, not in a formal way. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was it. No elaboration. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now I think that response was perfect.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. I’m not sure how someone manages that without becoming rigid. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as though he possessed all the time in the world. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.
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. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I do not know if such thoughts ever entered his mind. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.
There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I brush it off absentmindedly. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that certain lives leave an imprint without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A click here presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.