Reflecting on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw wasn't on my agenda this evening, yet that is often the nature of such things.

It is often a minor detail that sets it off. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume resting in proximity to the window. Humidity does that. I lingered for more time than was needed, separating the pages one by one, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.

There is a peculiar quality to revered personalities such as his. Their presence is seldom seen in a literal manner. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations whose origins have become blurred over time. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. And those absences say more than most words ever could.

I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. Without directness or any sense of formality. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” There was no further explanation given. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Now I think that response was perfect.

Currently, the sun is in its mid-afternoon position. The illumination is flat, lacking any golden or theatrical quality—it is simply light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Perhaps my spine desired a different sort of challenge this morning. I keep thinking about steadiness, about how rare it actually is. While wisdom is often discussed, steadiness appears to be the greater challenge. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.

Throughout his years, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw endured vast shifts Political shifts, social shifts, the slow erosion and sudden rebuilding which appears to click here be the hallmark of contemporary Myanmar's history. And yet, when people speak of him, they don’t talk about opinions or positions. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.

I frequently return to a specific, minor memory, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A bhikkhu slowly and methodically adjusting his traditional robes, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. 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 dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Allowing misconceptions to go uncorrected. Letting others project their own expectations onto your silence. I don’t know if he thought about these things. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.

There’s dust on my hands now from the book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that specific lives leave a profound imprint. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw is such a figure in my eyes. An influence that is experienced rather than analyzed, as it should be.