I didn’t plan to think about Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw again tonight, but that’s usually how it happens.

Often, a trivial event serves as the catalyst. The trigger today was the sound of paper sticking together while I was browsing through an old book kept on a shelf too close to the window. It's a common result of humidity. I found myself hesitating for a long moment, pulling the pages apart one at a time, and his name emerged once more, silent and uninvited.

There’s something strange about respected figures like him. They are not frequently seen in the public eye. If seen at all, it is typically from a remote perspective, filtered through stories, recollections, half-remembered quotes which lack a definitive source. With Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw, I feel like I know him mostly through absences. Devoid of theatricality, devoid of pressure, and devoid of excuse. Such silences communicate more than a multitude of words.

I recall an occasion when I inquired about him. It wasn't a direct or official inquiry. Just a casual question, as if I were asking about the weather. The person nodded, smiled a little, and said something like, “Ah, Sayadaw… very steady.” That was the extent of it, with no further detail. At the time, I felt slightly disappointed. Today, I consider that answer to have been entirely appropriate.

The time is currently mid-afternoon in my location. The light is dull, not golden, not dramatic. Just light. I am positioned on the floor rather than in a chair, quite arbitrarily. Perhaps my body sought a new form of discomfort today. I find myself contemplating steadiness and its actual uniqueness. Wisdom is often praised, but steadiness feels like the more arduous path. It is easy to admire wisdom from a distance. Steadiness has to be lived next to, day after day.

Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw navigated a lifetime of constant change Changes in politics and society, the gradual decay and rapid reconstruction that seems to define modern Burmese history. Despite this, when he is mentioned, it is not for his political or personal opinions They speak primarily of his consistency. He was like a fixed coordinate in a landscape of constant motion. I am uncertain how such stability can be achieved without becoming dogmatic. Achieving that equilibrium seems nearly unachievable.

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 meticulously and slowly adjusting his attire, as though he were in no hurry to go anywhere else. That person may not have been Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw himself. Memory tends to merge separate figures over time. But the sense of the moment remained strong. The sense of total freedom from the world's expectations.

I find myself questioning the personal toll of being such an individual. Not in a dramatic fashion, but in the simple cost of daily existence. The subtle sacrifices that appear unremarkable to others. Missing conversations you could have had. Allowing false impressions to persist without rebuttal. Accepting the projections of others without complaint. I am unsure if he ever contemplated these issues. It could be that he didn't, and that may be the very heart of it.

My hands are now covered in dust from the old book. I clean my hands in an unthinking manner. Composing this reflection feels somewhat gratuitous, but in a good way. Not everything needs to have a clear use. Sometimes it’s enough to acknowledge that particular individuals leave a lasting mark. without feeling the need to explain their own existence. To me, Tharmanay Kyaw Sayadaw embodies that quality. A presence that is felt more deeply than it is understood, and perhaps it is meant to remain that here way.