A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume resting in proximity to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, methodically dividing each page, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, perceived via the medium of lore, recollections, and broken quotes whose origins have become blurred over time. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.
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. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. In that instance, I felt a minor sense of disappointment. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.
The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. Perhaps my body sought a new click here form of discomfort today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.
Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that seems to define modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. 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 level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.
My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything has to be useful. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without ever trying to explain themselves. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.