Lately, I have been reflecting deeply on the concept of pillars. I'm not talking about the grand, symbolic pillars that adorn the entrances of museums, but rather the ones buried deep within a structure that go unseen until you understand they are holding the entire roof up. I find that image perfectly captures the essence of Mya Sein Taung Sayadaw. He was never someone who pursued public attention. In the Burmese Theravāda tradition, he was a steady and silent fixture. Stable and dependable. He prioritized the work of meditation over any public image he was building.
Standing Firm in the Original Framework
It feels like he was a representative of a bygone generation. He was part of a generation that adhered to slow, rhythmic patterns of study and discipline —without the need for rapid progress or convenient "fixes" for the soul. His life was built on a foundation of the Pāḷi Canon and the Vinaya, which he followed faithfully. I sometimes ask myself if that level of fidelity is the bravest path —maintaining such a deep and silent honesty with the original instructions. We spend so much time trying to "modernize" or "refine" the Buddha's path to ensure it fits easily into our modern routines, but he proved through his silence that the original structure still works, provided one actually follows it with sincerity.
Meditation as the Act of Remaining
The most common theme among his followers is the simple instruction to "stay." I find that single word "staying" resonating deeply within me today. 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.
• Remain with the mind when it becomes chaotic or agitated.
• Stay with the ache instead of attempting to manipulate it immediately.
In practice, this is incredibly demanding. I know website that I am typically looking for an exit the moment discomfort arises, but his example taught that true understanding comes only when we cease our flight.
The Depth of Quiet Influence
I consider his approach to difficult mental states like tedium, uncertainty, and agitation. He didn't see them as difficulties to be eliminated. He simply saw them as phenomena to be known. Though it seems like a small detail, it changes everything. It eliminates the sense of aggressive "striving." Meditation shifts from managing the mind to simply witnessing it as it is.
He lived without the need for extensive travel or a global fan base, yet his influence is deep because it was so quiet. He focused on training people. Consequently, his students became teachers themselves, continuing his legacy of modesty. His effectiveness was not dependent on being recognized.
I've reached the conclusion that the Dhamma doesn't need to be repackaged or made "interesting." It only needs dedicated effort and total sincerity. In an environment that is always screaming for our energy, his life points toward the reverse—something unassuming yet profound. He may not be a name that is known by everyone, but that is acceptable. Genuine strength typically functions in a quiet manner. It influences the world without asking for any credit. Tonight, I am reflecting on that, simply the quiet weight of his presence.