Recently, I find myself thinking often about structural pillars. Not the elaborate, artistic pillars found at the facades of grand museums, but the structural pillars concealed deep within the framework that go unseen until you understand they are holding the entire roof up. That is the image that persists when I think of Mya Sein Taung Sayadaw. He was not the kind of teacher who looked for the spotlight. Within the world of Burmese Theravāda, he was simply... there. Constant and trustworthy. He seemed to value the actual practice infinitely more than his own reputation.
Standing Firm in the Original Framework
To be fair, he seemed like a figure from a much older time. He was part of a generation that adhered to slow, rhythmic patterns of study and discipline —rejecting all shortcuts and modern "hacks" for awakening. He placed his total trust in the Pāḷi Canon and the Vinaya, and he remained with them. One wonders if this kind of unwavering loyalty to the original path is the most courageous choice —maintaining such a deep and silent honesty with the original instructions. In our modern lives, we are obsessed with "modifying" or "reimagining" the teachings to make it more convenient for our current lifestyles, but he proved through his silence that the original structure still works, if one has the courage to actually practice it as intended.
Meditation as the Act of Remaining
The students who trained under him emphasize the concept of "staying" above all else. The significance of that term has stayed with me all day long. Staying. He insisted that one should not use meditation to chase after exciting states or attaining a grand, visionary state of consciousness.
It is merely the discipline of staying present.
• Stay present with the inhalation and exhalation.
• Stay with the mind when it becomes restless.
• Stay with the ache instead of attempting to manipulate it immediately.
This is far more challenging than it appears on the surface. Personally, I tend to search for a distraction as soon as things get difficult, but his presence served as a reminder that clarity only arises when we stop running away.
A Legacy of Humility and Persistence
I reflect on how he addressed the difficult states—the boredom, the doubt, the restlessness. He didn't see them as difficulties to be eliminated. He saw them as raw experiences to be witnessed. It is a small adjustment, but it fundamentally alters the path. It removes the "striving" from the equation. It moves from an attempt to govern consciousness to an act of direct observation.
He didn't seek to build an international brand or attract thousands of followers, yet his effect is lasting precisely because of its silent nature. He dedicated himself to the development of other practitioners. read more In turn, those students became guides, preserving that same humble spirit. He did not need to be seen to be effective.
I've reached the conclusion that the Dhamma doesn't need to be repackaged or made "interesting." The only thing it demands is commitment and integrity. While our world is always vying for our attention, his example points in the opposite direction—toward something simple and deep. He may not be a celebrity, but that is of no consequence. Genuine strength typically functions in a quiet manner. It shapes reality without ever seeking recognition. Tonight, I am reflecting on that, simply the quiet weight of his presence.