Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I tried to flip through an old book resting in proximity to the window. Humidity does that. I paused longer than necessary, methodically dividing each page, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes that remain hard to verify. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. And those absences say more than most words ever could.
I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In a casual, non-formal tone. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.
It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They talk about consistency. 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. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare
I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the feeling stuck. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Maybe he didn’t. click here Maybe that’s the point.
There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not all reflections need to serve a specific purpose. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.