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

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 that’s been sitting too close to the window. 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 emerged once more, silent and uninvited.

There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which are difficult to attribute exactly. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.

I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In a casual, non-formal tone. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” There was no further explanation given. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.

Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. For no particular reason, I am seated on the floor instead of the furniture. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They focus on the consistency of his character. As if he were a permanent landmark that stayed still while the environment fluctuated. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare

A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, even if I am uncertain if my recollection is entirely accurate. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. Perhaps that monk was not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw at all. Memory blurs people together. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That sense of not being rushed by the world’s expectations.

I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. I do not mean in a grand way, but in the small details of each day. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Permitting errors in perception to remain. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.

My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I wipe it away without thinking. Composing this reflection click here feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that specific lives leave a profound imprint. never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.