Phil W. Bayles

Or: How I Learned To Love The Kindness of Strangers

Recently I’ve been playing a game called Kind Words, and it’s restored my faith in humanity a little bit.

On second thoughts, I’m not sure ‘playing’ is the right word, because it isn’t strictly a game. It’s more, I don’t know, a ‘pen-pal-em-up’? Expect it’s completely anonymous so I have no idea who I’ve been writing to, so that doesn’t work either. It’s more like a message in a bottle simulator.

Let me start over.  

I play as a little cartoon figure, alone in a bedroom floating in an endless void. Soft music plays in the background and sunlight streams in through an open window. Every so often, a deer sticks her head in the window and gives me postcards. Stick with me here, it makes sense if you don’t stop to think about it too much. 

I don’t know who the postcards are from. There’s no return address, and each one is only signed with an initial. But they’re written by real human beings, somewhere in the world. One is a serial procrastinator, looking for tips to stay focused because they’ve got a big deadline coming up. Another is sad because they don’t remember the last time they hugged another human being. A third just wants to hear a good joke.

I start sending replies. I tell the first person not to worry about procrastinating too much, that taking a break can be a good way to reset your brain. I tell the second I know how they feel, but that this will pass one day, and it’ll be all the sweeter when we get to embrace each other again. I tell the third one of my favourite jokes, the one about the Roman centurion. 

Eventually I start to put out postcards of my own, detailing my own worries. I send them out, not knowing if anyone will read them. It just feels good to get the words down.

Then the responses start coming in.

You are valuable and important.

I believe in you.

Sending you love and compassion.

All I did was yell into the void – and the void replied, to let me know I wasn’t alone. It’s a little overwhelming, in the nicest possible way.

I write this, it occurs to me that playing Kind Words is a lot like writing this newsletter. Since I’m working from home at the moment, a lot of days can feel like my flat is floating in its own little void. So I sit here and witter on about my struggles with writing and obscure French romantic comedies, not because I’m expecting anything back in return, but because it just feels good to get the words down. And sometimes, you lovely lot reach out and let me know you’re there.

The only difference is there’s no deer poking its head out the window. Which is just as well, considering I’m up on the first floor.

Anyway, all of this to say: You are valuable and important. I believe in you. And I’m sending you all the love I can muster.

*A Roman centurion walks into a bar and holds up two fingers. The landlord serves him five beers.

(I didn’t say it was a good joke. It’s just one of my favourites.)