Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw resurfaced in my mind quite spontaneously this evening, but these thoughts have a way of appearing unbidden.

A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together when I tried to flip through an old book placed too near the window pane. That is the effect of damp air. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name simply manifested again, quiet and unbidden.

One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. Or perhaps they are perceived only from afar, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings that remain hard to verify. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.

I remember once asking someone about him. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… remarkably consistent.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the moment, I felt somewhat underwhelmed. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.

Here, it is the middle of the afternoon. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Perhaps my body sought a new form here 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. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. 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. He served as a stationary reference point amidst a sea of change How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That balance feels almost impossible.

I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.

I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.

My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I remove the dust without much thought. Composing these thoughts seems somewhat redundant, in a positive sense. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that certain lives leave an imprint without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence to be felt rather than comprehended, perhaps by design.