Reflecting on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw wasn't on my agenda this evening, yet that is often the nature of such things.

It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume that’s been sitting too close to the window. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, methodically dividing each page, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.

There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which lack a definitive source. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language

I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. In a casual, non-formal tone. 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, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” The conversation ended there, without any expansion. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.

Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented 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. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Political upheavals, societal transitions, and cycles of erosion and renewal that characterizes the modern history of Burma. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They focus on the consistency of his character. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.

There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.

I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. The dialogues that were never held. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.

I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I clean my hands in an click here unthinking manner. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. 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 very much like that to me. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.