Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. 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 paused longer than necessary, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.
Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. You don’t actually see them very much. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes that remain hard to verify. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.
I remember once asking someone about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, the Sayadaw… he is very stable.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Now I think that response was perfect.
Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.
The life of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw spanned an era of great upheaval. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.
There’s a small moment I keep replaying, 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. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the feeling stuck. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the get more info world.
I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The quiet sacrifices that don’t look like sacrifices from the outside. The dialogues that were never held. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.
I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Utility is not the only measure of value. At times, it is enough just to admit. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.