I’ve been trying to figure out where I first heard the name Jatila Sayadaw, but my mind offers no clarity on the matter. There was no distinct starting point or any significant introduction. It is similar to the way one observes that a tree in the yard has become quite tall, without ever having observed the incremental steps of its development? It is merely present. I found his name already ingrained in my thoughts, familiar enough to be accepted without doubt.
Currently, I am sitting in the quiet of early morning— not at the crack of dawn, but in that strange, muted interval when the morning light remains undecided. The steady, repetitive sound of sweeping drifts in from the street. It highlights my own lack of motion as I sit here, partially awake, musing on a monk who remains a stranger to my physical experience. Merely fragmented memories. General impressions.
The term "revered" is frequently applied when people discuss him. It is a word that possesses a certain weight. However, when used in reference to Jatila Sayadaw, it lacks any sense of boisterousness or formality. It sounds more like... a quiet precision. Like people are just a little more deliberate with their words when his name comes up. A palpable sense of self-control accompanies his memory. I am often thinking about that sense of restraint. It seems quite unusual in this day and age. Current trends are all about reaction, speed, and visibility. He appears to move to a different rhythm. A temporal sense where time is not for optimization or control. You simply live it. While that idea is appealing on paper, I imagine it is much more difficult more info to realize in practice.
I have this image of him in my head, though I might have just made it up from bits of old stories or other things I've seen. He is pacing slowly on a monastery path, gaze lowered, his stride perfectly steady. It doesn’t look like a performance. The movement is not intended for witnesses, even if people are looking on. I may be romanticizing it, but that is the image that remains.
Curiously, there is a lack of anecdotal lore about his specific personality. There are no witty sayings or anecdotes that act as keepsakes. The conversation invariably centers on his self-control and his consistency. It appears as though his individuality... receded to allow the lineage to find its own voice. I occasionally muse on that idea. Whether letting the "self" vanish in such a way is a form of freedom or a form of confinement. I'm not sure if I'm even asking the correct question.
The light is changing now and becoming brighter. I have reviewed these words and came close to erasing them. It feels a bit messy, maybe even a little pointless. Yet, that might be the very intended effect. Thinking of him brings to light how much mental and verbal noise I usually create. How much I feel the need to fill up the silence with something "useful." He seems to be the opposite of that. He did not choose silence merely to be still; he simply required nothing additional.
I will finish these reflections at this point. This isn't really a biography or anything. It's just me noticing how some names linger, even when you aren't trying to hold onto them. They just stay. Steady.