What’s worse than fighting? Not caring.
Anger, arguments, irritation — these are proof of life.
A relationship without friction is either new, fragile, or dead.
As time passes and the bond matures, something softens. The same things that once set us off now roll off more easily. The mind, tempered by years of shared experience, stops treating every tremor as a threat.
Over the years, I’ve realized that issues that once consumed us for days or weeks now melt away without our even noticing. Letting go becomes involuntary — a natural settling of the heart. We begin to see that most disagreements are weather — brief changes in mood, not enduring climate. They pass because we stop replaying them; we no longer feed them the energy of rumination. Neuroscience even agrees: a memory consolidates only when revisited. When we stop regurgitating hurt, it fades — like a scent dispersed in the wind.
Maturity, then, is not in winning every argument but in forgetting faster.
Each day we choose not to carry yesterday’s dents forward, we practise No RoG in its most human form — forgiveness by omission.
A well-cured bond doesn’t crumble from a few knocks; it develops resilience.
Like clay tempered by fire, or two green leaves still full of sap, a long relationship stays alive because it keeps renewing itself. The moment we let regret or resentment linger, we begin to dry — and dry leaves catch fire easily.
Gratitude, curiosity, laughter — these are the senolytics of love, washing away the stale layers and keeping the bond fresh, pliant, and alive.
Letting Be — The Gentler Twin
Even in love, healing takes time. Every disagreement leaves a mark, but not every mark needs to be erased.
Sometimes what looks like distance is just the emotional equivalent of a scab — a thin layer that forms when care and time are allowed to do their quiet work.
The mistake is to keep picking — analysing, revisiting, explaining — believing that peace requires constant fixing.
But sometimes what’s needed isn’t effort; it’s stillness.
Letting be is the gentler twin of letting go: a faith in the relationship’s own capacity to heal when given space.
The River of Life
As we move along the river of life, it helps to keep our boat light.
Unresolved regrets, grudges, or old hurts weigh us down.
The No RoG paradigm applies to relationships too — regrets and guilt are signposts to learn from, not weights to carry.
In a future post, I’ll explore what I call Sunanda Practices — small rituals that bring us closer to Ananda — pure joy.
They help keep our relationships fresh and supple as a green leaf, tuned to resonance and ready to bend with the winds of life.
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