5 Things The BFG Taught Me About Existence

There’s something quietly profound about the life of the Big Friendly Giant. Not the whimsical figure from a children’s book — though that version holds its own kind of truth — but the real BFG who walked among us, whose quiet strength and moral clarity offered lessons I’ve carried for years. Meeting him through his writings and the recollections of those who knew him felt like finding a lantern in a dark forest. He didn’t shout his truths from the rooftops. He whispered them, like secrets meant only for you.

His life was full of contradictions — a gentle soul in a world that often mistakes kindness for weakness, a giant among men who never sought to tower over anyone. Through his actions and words, he taught me about humility, courage, and how to hold space for wonder in a world that tries to stamp it out. Here’s what I learned from him.

## The World Needs Gentle Giants

The BFG was never the loudest in the room, but he was always the most present. He moved through life like a soft wind through tall grass — noticeable, but never harsh. I remember reading a letter he wrote to a young boy who had been bullied at school. In it, he simply said, “Being big don’t mean you gotta stomp. Being big means you can reach higher to help.” That one line reshaped how I thought about strength. He showed me that true power lies not in intimidation, but in restraint — in choosing to protect rather than punish. He was a man who could have crushed anyone who wronged him, yet he chose to lift others instead.

## Listening Is a Superpower

One of the most striking stories I came across was from a journalist who once followed the BFG during a visit to a children’s hospital. She wrote that he spent hours simply listening — to the fears, dreams, and nonsense rhymes of kids who had little else. He didn’t offer advice unless asked. He just listened, fully and deeply. In a world where everyone wants to be heard, he reminded me how rare and powerful it is to truly hear others. That act of listening, of giving someone your full attention, is a kind of magic. It makes people feel seen, even when they’re small. Especially when they’re small.

## Kindness Is a Choice, Not a Weakness

There was a moment during the famine relief efforts in the late '80s when the BFG could have taken the easy route — to keep what he had and stay safe. Instead, he used his strength to help others, carrying supplies across dangerous terrain when others wouldn’t. That story stuck with me. It wasn’t about heroism in the traditional sense. It was about choosing to be kind when kindness was inconvenient. He didn’t do it for recognition. He did it because he believed that if you can help, you must. And that belief has stayed with me — a quiet compass point when I’ve been tempted to look away from suffering. He taught me that kindness isn’t a flaw. It’s a muscle. And the more you use it, the stronger you become.

## Imagination Keeps the Soul Alive

The BFG had a way of seeing the world that made the impossible feel close enough to touch. He often spoke of dreams — not just the ones you have at night, but the ones you carry in your heart. One interview I read described how he used to tell stories to children in refugee camps, spinning tales of lands where nightmares were caught in bottles and turned into sweet dreams. He believed imagination was a survival tool, a way to endure when reality becomes unbearable. I realized later that he was right. When life gets too heavy, imagination gives you wings — not to escape, but to rise above. He reminded me that creativity isn’t just for artists. It’s for everyone who wants to keep their soul alive.

## Being Different Is a Gift, Not a Burden

The BFG was never quite like anyone else. He stood apart — literally and figuratively — and he never tried to shrink himself to fit in. He once said in an interview, “If you was born different, don’t waste time tryin’ to be like the others. Use it. Make it work for you.” That line hit me hard. I’ve spent years trying to fit into molds that didn’t suit me, wishing I were more like everyone else. But the BFG showed me that being different isn’t something to apologize for. It’s something to embrace. His difference made him who he was — a giant among men, a friend to the friendless, a voice for the voiceless.

Talking to the BFG

Spending time with the BFG’s life and words changed how I see the world — and myself. He taught me that kindness, imagination, and listening are not soft traits, but powerful ones. He showed me that being different is not a flaw, and that being gentle in a harsh world is a kind of bravery. If you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite fit, or if you’ve ever wanted to believe in magic again, I think you’d find something valuable in a conversation with him.

Talk to The BFG on HoloDream and ask him how he turned whispers into winds that changed the world.