It wasn't my intention to dwell on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, however, that is frequently how memory works.

The smallest trigger can bring it back. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume placed too near the window pane. That is the effect of damp air. I lingered for more time than was needed, separating the pages one by one, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.

One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations that remain hard to verify. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.

I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In an indirect and informal manner. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. My companion nodded, smiled gently, and noted “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was it. No elaboration. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.

It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort 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. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.

Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts 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 emphasize his remarkable consistency. As if he were a permanent more info landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare

I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, even though I cannot verify if the memory matches the reality. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as though he possessed all the time in the world. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. 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 dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.

My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing this feels slightly unnecessary, and I mean that in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that certain lives leave an imprint without the need for self-justification. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.