Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw resurfaced in my mind quite spontaneously 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 tried to flip through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. Humidity does that. I lingered for more time than was needed, methodically dividing each page, and in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.

Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. You don’t actually see them very much. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations which lack a definitive source. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. The absence of spectacle. The absence of urgency. The absence of explanation. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.

I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. In a casual, non-formal tone. 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 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 ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama 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 keep pondering the idea of being steady and the rarity of that quality. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness must be lived in close proximity, throughout each day.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw lived through so much change. Transitions in power and culture, the slow wearing away and the sudden rise which defines the historical arc of modern Burma. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. They emphasize his remarkable consistency. As if he was a reference point that didn’t move while everything else did. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.

A small scene continues to replay in my thoughts, 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 though he possessed all the time in the world. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the underlying feeling stayed with me. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.

I often reflect on the sacrifices required to be a person of that nature. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Remaining silent when one could have spoken. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing people to see in you whatever they require I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Perhaps he read more did not, and perhaps that is exactly the essence.

My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. The act of writing this feels almost superfluous, and I say that with respect. Not everything has to be useful. Occasionally, it is adequate to merely acknowledge. that some lives leave a deep impression. without ever trying to explain themselves. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.