It wasn't my intention to dwell on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, but that’s usually how it happens.

A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume that’s been sitting too close to the window. Humidity does that. My pause was more extended than required, ungluing each page with care, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.

There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which lack a definitive source. In the case of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I perceive him through his voids. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.

I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. Not directly, not in a formal way. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was all—no further commentary was provided. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.

It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding which appears to be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They speak primarily of his consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.

I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, although I cannot be sure my memory of it is perfectly true. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if there was no other place he needed to be. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. People are often blurred together in the landscape of memory. But the sense of the moment remained strong. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.

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. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Missing conversations you could have had. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.

My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. On occasion, it is sufficient simply to recognize. that particular individuals leave click here a lasting mark. without ever trying to explain themselves. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.