It wasn't my intention to dwell on Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, but these thoughts have a way of appearing unbidden.

It is often a minor detail that sets it off. This time it was the sound of pages sticking together as I attempted to leaf through an ancient volume 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 in that stillness, his name reappeared unprompted.

One finds a unique attribute in esteemed figures like the Sayadaw. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, viewed through a lens of stories, memories, and vague citations that no one can quite place. Regarding Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, my understanding comes primarily from what is missing. Without grandiosity, without speed, and without the need for clarification. Those missing elements convey a deeper truth than most rhetoric.

I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. In an indirect and informal manner. 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… remarkably consistent.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now, I recognize the perfection in that brief response.

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 body sought a new form of discomfort today. My thoughts return to the concept of stability and its scarcity. We talk about wisdom a lot, but steadiness feels harder. Wisdom allows for admiration from a remote vantage point. 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 that seems to define modern Burmese history. And still, when he is the subject of conversation, people don't dwell on his beliefs or stances. Instead, they highlight his unwavering nature. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. It is difficult to understand how one can maintain that state without turning stiff. Such a balance appears almost beyond human capability.

I find myself mentally revisiting a brief instant, though I can’t even be sure it really happened the way I remember it. A monk taking great care to fix his robe in a slow manner, as if he were entirely free from any sense of urgency. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. Recollections have a way of blending people's identities. But the sense of the moment remained strong. That feeling of being unhurried by the expectations of the world.

I frequently ponder the price of website living such a life. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. Those silent concessions that are invisible to the external observer. Missing conversations you could have had. Letting misunderstandings stand. 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.

I notice dust on my fingers from the old volume. I brush the dust off in a distracted way Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. There is no requirement for every thought to be practical. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. never having sought to explain their own nature. I perceive Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw in exactly that way. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that way.