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

A tiny spark is usually enough to ignite the memory. Tonight, it was the subtle sound of pages clinging together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. I stopped for a duration that felt excessive, pulling the pages apart one at a time, 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. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations that remain hard to verify. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.

I remember seeking another's perspective on him once In an indirect and informal manner. Just a lighthearted question, much like an observation of the sky. 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. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.

It’s mid-afternoon where I am. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I have chosen to sit on the ground rather than the seat, without a specific motive. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. We prioritize the mention of wisdom, but steadiness is arguably more demanding. Wisdom is something we can respect from the outside. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that has come to represent modern Burmese history. Nevertheless, discussions about him rarely focus on his views or stances. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. It is hard to grasp how he avoided rigidity while staying so firm. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.

There’s a small moment I keep replaying, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. That might not even have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.

I frequently ponder the price of living such a life. Not in a dramatic sense. Just the daily cost. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Forgoing interactions that might have taken place. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. 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.

My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I wipe it away without thinking. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. At times, it is enough just to admit. that some tharmanay kyaw lives leave a deep impression. without ever trying to explain themselves. 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.