It wasn't my intention to dwell on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, but these thoughts have a way of appearing unbidden.

Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. This particular time, the sound of sticky pages was the cause when I tried to flip through an old book placed too near the window pane. Humidity does that. I lingered for more time than was needed, ungluing each page with care, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.

One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. Or maybe you see them, but only from a distance, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that no one can quite place. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.

I remember seeking another's perspective on him once Not directly, not in a formal way. Simply a passing remark, like a comment on the climate. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” There was no further explanation given. 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 day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Shifts in the political and social landscape, alongside the constant flux of rebuilding that has come to represent modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They talk about consistency. 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 level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.

There’s a small moment I keep replaying, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Memory blurs people together. However, the emotion associated with it persisted. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.

I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a theatrical way, but in the subtle daily price. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point.

My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything has to be useful. At times, it is enough just to admit. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. A presence felt more website than understood, and maybe meant to stay that way.