Reflecting on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw wasn't on my agenda this evening, however, that is frequently how memory works.

The smallest trigger can bring it back. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together when I reached for a weathered book left beside the window for too long. Moisture has a way of doing that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, separating the pages one by one, and his name drifted back to me, softly and without warning.

There’s something strange about respected figures like him. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that remain hard to verify. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. In many ways, these absences are more descriptive than any language

I once remember posing a question to someone regarding his character. In a casual, non-formal tone. Only an offhand query, no different from asking about the rain. They nodded, offered a small smile, and uttered something along the lines of “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. In hindsight, I see that reply as being flawless.

The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The day is filled with a muted, unexceptional light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Maybe I am testing a new type of physical strain today. I keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. Steadiness requires a presence that is maintained day in and day out.

Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding that characterizes the modern history of Burma. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. That particular harmony feels incredibly rare

There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as though he possessed all the time in the world. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That impression of not being hurried by external pressures.

I often ask myself what the cost of that specific character might be. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Permitting individuals to superimpose their own needs upon your image. 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.

There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that certain existences leave a lasting trace. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. A presence felt more than understood, and maybe meant to stay that more info way.