PROP, People Reaching Out to People

17/11/2025

17/11/2025

The latest Quiet Man piece is live: “Quiet Man #7: Boundaries”.

These pieces try to slow things down for a moment, to notice what sits underneath the day. This one stays close to the small moments where we lose ourselves: a buzzing phone, a late-night work email or text, a distraction other than the one right in front of us.

It’s not advice. It’s not self-help. It’s a gentle reminder that presence is built in tiny choices, and those choices shape a life.

If this stirs something familiar, share it with someone who might need it.

I used to tell myself I’d do things differently. I wouldn’t follow the same work-first rhythm I grew up with. Then I caught myself looking at my phone while my kids were talking to me. They waited for me to come back to the moment. That pause said more than any Harry Chapin song ever could.

31/10/2025

We’ve added our sixth Quiet Man piece, “The Shape of Kindness”. This series gives men a place to pause, a quiet corner to notice what sits underneath the day. The things we feel but rarely say.

This one turns to kindness. The quiet sort that doesn’t ask for credit. The kind that waits, steadies a room, makes space when the world feels too loud. These days everything can feel counted, scored, or divided. Kindness cuts through that noise. It isn’t a virtue. It’s the muscle memory of being human.

Quiet Man isn’t advice, and it isn’t therapy. It’s just a small reflection, a way of naming what’s quiet so it doesn’t sit there alone.

If it speaks to you, please pass it forward.

He lived in a small flat above the cliff. A kettle on the stove. A window that watched the edge where rock meets water. When someone stood too near, he crossed the road. He offered tea and time. Simple moves. The kind that steady a shaking day. He’s gone now, though his legacy will last lifetimes.

13/10/2025

We’ve added our fifth Quiet Man piece. This series gives men a place to pause, a small corner to name what sits underneath. The things we feel but don’t always say.

This one turns to grief. It can press on the chest, slow the breath. Some days it just sits there. Other days it moves and reminds you of what once mattered, what still does.

Quiet Man isn’t advice, and it isn’t therapy. It’s just a small reflection, a way of naming what’s quiet so it doesn’t sit there alone. If it speaks to you, please pass it forward.

It comes without a knock. You don’t plan for it. One day, something shifts, and the air all of a sudden feels heavier.I was five years old, living in South America. Our German Shepherd, Rocky, was my first best friend. He slept beside my bed, followed me everywhere, made me feel safe and seen. Whe...

15/09/2025

Eight minutes of empathy and pressence. That’s all it takes.

When you're struggling, here's a way you can reach out. It's what I do with those closest to me. It can take as little as 8 minutes to feel not alone. 📲Vide...

02/09/2025

September is National Su***de Prevention Awareness Month!

01/09/2025

We’ve added our third Quiet Man piece. This series is a space for men to pause and recognise the feelings we don’t always say out loud. This one turns to life after work; when the phone quiets, mornings stretch, and we wonder what comes next. Quiet Man isn’t advice, and it isn’t therapy. It’s simply an observation, a way of naming the quiet so it doesn’t sit there alone. If it speaks to you, please pass it forward.

Mirror, mirror on the wall. I am my father after all.My father never really retired. He set one set of tools down, then picked up another. When I once asked him why he kept working after “retirement,” he smiled and mentioned a colleague, a family friend. “Who looks older, me or him?” my fath...

20/08/2025

“Sometimes,” Pooh thought to himself as he drifted gently down the stream on a log, umbrella in one paw and honey jar in the other, “life is not about rushing to the next thing, but about floating along and noticing the sky reflected in the water, the trees waving as if to say hello, and the bees buzzing kindly in the distance. You see, when you let the river carry you, it doesn’t matter if you don’t know exactly where you’re going. What matters is that you’ve got a bit of honey for company, a bit of shade for comfort, and a heart that knows how to enjoy the quiet in-between moments. Because, really, those small, unhurried adventures often turn out to be the sweetest ones of all.”

11/08/2025

We’ve added a second chapter to The Quiet Man series. A place for men to stop for a moment, think, and maybe catch a glimpse of themselves in words that don’t always get spoken.

Every couple of weeks we put something out. Nothing polished. Not advice. Not a pep talk. Just real bits and pieces that come from lived moments.

The Quiet Man is for people who might seem steady enough, but who carry more than most realise. Who want to keep their strength yet, every now and then, let a bit of softness in.

This one’s called “Empathy: The Key That Unlocks the Caged Bird”. It’s about being with someone in their storm. Not fixing it. Not hurrying them along. Just being there.

Like the rest, it sits next to our work at prop.org.au. Free, straightforward tutorials made to help friends, families, workmates, neighbours, anyone close to someone doing it tough, see mental health without the old stigma getting in the way.

These four short tutorials aren’t for the person in the middle of the struggle. They’re for the people around them, the ones who want to be better at showing up. Each one takes around ten minutes to read, with two short videos from people who’ve been there themselves. Honest. Hopeful. Real.

If this Quiet Man piece feels like it might matter to someone you know, pass it on.

https://www.prop.org.au/post/empathy-the-key-that-unlocks-the-caged-bird

“I’m fine,” he says, almost without thinking.The universal script.Said in the same voice you’d use to tell a waiter the meal was good when it wasn’t.But you can feel it.The quiet tension under the words.The weight tucked inside that small, worn phrase.“Fine” is a mask sewn from caution...

10/08/2025

One evening, as the sky turned the colour of soft dreams and the stars were beginning to yawn their way into the night, Pooh and Piglet sat side by side on a little hill, not saying much, which is how some of the best conversations begin.

After a while, Piglet leaned gently against Pooh’s shoulder. “Pooh,” he whispered, “what if one day everything changes?”

Pooh was quiet for a moment, listening to the wind brushing through the trees like a lullaby. Then he said, “Things might change, Piglet. That’s what time does. Trees grow taller, paths twist in new directions, and we may find ourselves walking through different kinds of days. But you know what never changes?”

Piglet looked up. “What?”

“The bit of my heart where you live,” said Pooh. “That stays just the same. It’s the part that always knows where to find you, no matter where we go, or who we grow into.”

Piglet’s ears wiggled, the way they did when he was very happy. “And I think,” he said, “there’s a bit of my heart that was made just to walk beside you.”

And under the gentle hush of the twilight sky, the two friends sat very still, hearts full and hands almost touching, knowing that whatever changed tomorrow, they had this moment, and each other, forever tucked safely away inside it.**