Reflecting on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw wasn't on my agenda this evening, but that’s usually how it happens.

It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I turned the pages of a long-neglected book left beside the window for too long. Humidity does that. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, separating the pages one by one, and somehow his name surfaced again, quietly, without asking.

There is something enigmatic about figures of such respect. They are not often visible in the conventional way. Perhaps their presence is only felt from a great distance, conveyed via narratives, memories, and fragmented sayings which lack a definitive source. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. The void of drama, the void of rush, and the void of commentary. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.

I remember once asking someone about him. In a casual, non-formal tone. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The individual inclined their head, gave a slight smile, and replied “Ah, Sayadaw… he possesses great steadiness.” There was no further explanation given. At first, I felt a little unsatisfied with the answer. Looking back, I realize the answer was ideal.

It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The room is filled with a neutral, unornamented light. I’m sitting on the floor instead of the chair for no real reason. Maybe my back wanted a different kind of complaint today. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. But steadiness must be practiced consistently in every moment.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw witnessed immense transformations during his life. Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that seems to define modern Burmese history. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They emphasize his remarkable consistency. It was as though he remained a stable anchor while the world shifted around him. How one avoids rigidity while remaining so constant is a mystery to me. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.

There is a particular moment that keeps recurring in my mind, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. An image of a monk arranging his robes with great deliberation, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. It might have been another individual, not Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Memory blurs people together. But the click here feeling stuck. 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 sense. Just the daily cost. Silent sacrifices that do not seem like losses to the casual eye. Choosing not to engage in certain conversations. Accepting that others may misunderstand you. Allowing others to project whatever they need onto you. Whether he reflected on these matters is unknown to me. Perhaps he was free of such concerns, and maybe that's the key.

My hands have become dusty from handling the book. I brush it off absentmindedly. Writing these words feels a bit unnecessary, and I mean that kindly. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that certain lives leave an imprint never having sought to explain their own nature. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.