My thoughts returned to Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw unexpectedly tonight, yet that is often the nature of such things.

It is often a minor detail that sets it off. In this instance, it was the noise of pages adhering to one another while I was browsing through an old book placed too near the window pane. That is the effect of damp air. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, carefully detaching the sheets individually, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.

Respected individuals of his stature often possess a strange aura. One rarely encounters them in a direct sense. One might see them, yet only from a detached viewpoint, transmitted through anecdotes, reminiscences, and partial quotations which are difficult to attribute exactly. My knowledge of Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw seems rooted in his silences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. These very voids speak more eloquently than any speech.

I recall asking a person about him on one occasion. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Merely an incidental inquiry, as if discussing the day's weather. The person gave a nod and a faint smile, then remarked “Ah, Sayadaw… always so steady.” There was no further explanation given. Initially, I experienced a touch of letdown. Now I think that response was perfect.

It is now mid-afternoon where I sit. The ambient light is unremarkable, devoid of any drama I find myself sitting on the floor today, for no identifiable cause. It could be that my back was looking for a different sensation this afternoon. I am reflecting on the nature of steadiness and how seldom it is found. Wisdom is a frequent topic of discussion, yet steadiness seems more difficult to achieve. One can appreciate wisdom from a great distance. Steadiness, however, must be embodied in one's daily existence.

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. Yet, when individuals recall his life, they don't emphasize his perspectives or allegiances They talk about 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. That level of balance seems nearly impossible to maintain.

There’s a small moment I keep replaying, although I am not certain the event occurred exactly as I recall. A monk adjusting his robe, slowly, carefully, with the air of someone who had no other destination in mind. It is possible that the figure was not actually Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw. The mind often fuses different individuals in memory. Nonetheless, the impression remained. The feeling of being unburdened by the demands of society.

I find myself wondering, often, what it costs to be that kind of person. Not in a grand sense, but in the mundane daily sacrifices. The quiet offerings that others might not even recognize as sacrifices. The dialogues that were never held. Letting misunderstandings stand. Allowing others to project whatever they click here need onto you. I cannot say if he ever pondered these things. Maybe he was beyond such thoughts, which could be the entire point.

There is a layer of dust on my hands from the paper. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything has to be useful. Sometimes, the simple act of acknowledgement is enough. that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without the need for self-justification. Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw feels very much like that to me. An aura that is sensed rather than understood, and perhaps intended to remain so.