You would have to live on the moon, or perhaps in certain sections of Beverly Hills, not to have noticed what's been happening in Haiti recently. Most of us have been greatly affected by the tragedy. Like the earthquake itself, the shock wave of this news continues to travel and rock the world of anyone exposed to it. And like any great cataclysm, these things are a litmus test of our natures, tending to bring out the best or the worst in all of us.

Even those of us thousands of miles from the epicentre may find ourselves wrestling with questions of ethical and moral character as a result of this disaster. Should I help? How can I help? Does it matter if I do nothing? What's the point, anyway?

I know that in my small corner of the world we faced our own dilemma. This is typically a dicey time of the year for us, fiscally. A number of financially foreboding trends inevitably gang up on us at this time of year; the film and TV business is very slow in the winter, most productions preferring to shoot in the long sunlit days of the spring and summer, the expenses of Christmas must be met and my accountant usually calls and brings up that annoying tax thing. The upshot is that at this time of the year our P and L statement makes Black Monday look like a tea party. And if we're not careful, if we lose some precious perspective, our world can get as small as our bank balance.

I remember, when my kids were quite young, one of them coming home from school and asking "Dad, are we rich?"

I said "What makes you ask that?" He replied that one of the kids at school had said that because I was a TV actor we must be rich. I smiled, then told him to remind his schoolmate that, "your dad is a Canadian' TV actor." Then see if you can't bum some milk money from the kid.

The bottom line is that I found myself, this weekend, staring at a request for earthquake aid in my e-mail inbox and, for an ugly little while, hesitating... wondering. My heart, of course, knew exactly what I should do. There was no lack of clarity on its part. But I had this panicked, idiot, number-cruncher in my head who kept warning me to be careful or else.

Or else what? Or else I won't be able to have my six-buck latte this week? Or else I might have to leave one of my two cars at home? Or else I won't be able to biggie-size anything?

My home is still standing. I have gallons of fresh, clean water to drink. I have a pantry and fridge stocked with enough food to feed a small village. I have clothes in my closet I haven't worn in years. I have more shoes than the Rockettes. My children are healthy and happy and still here.

Or else what? What a sickeningly stupid, cowardly, useless question. Of course, I ended up donating, giving... something. And an interesting and wonderful thing happens the moment you decide to do something, to act, to give, to help.

The idiot in the head is suddenly, blissfully, silenced. And what you are left with is the peace of the heart. The peace that only comes from the realization that we are truly all one, and as we do unto others, we most certainly do unto ourselves. Listen to your heart.