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We all live within a culturally constructed bubble that defines our sense of reality and our comfort zone. It's hard to see the bubble when we're inside it but occasionally something punctures it and gives us a different perspective. The earthquake in Haiti didn't just perforate our bubble; it ripped it wide open and caused us to re-evaluate those things we take for granted.

It is difficult to take seriously such inside-the-bubble things as the vicissitudes of our City Council and county commissioners, or Tobacco Road basketball rivalries, when just 680 miles south of Miami, an estimated 200,000 people died and 300,000 -- more than the population of Greensboro -- are wandering the streets, hungry, thirsty and dying of treatable injuries and disease. The view through the gash in our bubble leaves us both grateful for the relative security and social safety net of the Triad along with a form of survivor guilt -- but for an accident of birth we could be there.

We can use the tragedy as a wake-up call. Not just as a stimulus to reach out to our fellow humans in Haiti or to better appreciate our cultural cocoon here in the Triad, but as a frame of reference for helping ourselves and others through our own burst bubbles. Here are two perspectives.

In troubled times we find out who our friends are -- and aren't Regardless of social or economic strata, people in the United States are trying to help. Even though we are in the midst of our own economic crisis, we are digging deep, and it speaks volumes about us. The same can't be said for all countries. There are what appear to be only token efforts from some of our Asian and Western friends, and a noteworthy absence of most oil-rich Middle Eastern countries.

With an unemployment rate of nearly 11 percent and a mortgage-delinquency rate of 9 percent, many North Carolinians who have had their employment security and housing bubbles burst have experienced a related phenomenon: the disappearance of friends they thought could be counted on and the appearance of others whose help surprised them.

Here's a personal example. A number of years ago, I quit my corporate job in Minnesota and accepted a teaching position at Duke. A month before the move to North Carolina, my wife broke her neck in a car accident and we not only couldn't move, I was thrust into the temporary role of a part-time caregiver. With no income and medical bills, I was disappointed when many of my corporate friends just seemed to fade away. This was more than offset when two people, somewhat on the periphery of my contacts, unexpectedly reached out and, with no bureaucratic preamble, brought me into some consulting projects that tided me over financially and opened up a whole new career path.

Nearly everyone I talk to has had a similar experience. It is some kind of a social law: When we are in trouble, those who we expect to be there for us are often absent but someone unexpected steps up and delights us with help and compassion.

The lesson for those of us in the Triad is to be among those who delight and surprise others with our help and compassion. With continued unemployment and economic turmoil, we don't want for opportunities. Those we reach out to don't have to be our best friends, and we don't need to have a complete solution for their troubles. Just listening and doing what small things we can makes a huge difference.

Help is defined by the helped, not the helper. Haiti was in bad shape before the earthquake, plagued with poverty, illiteracy, drugs and corruption. Now it's a disaster in every sense of that word. Officials in the Rand Corp. and the United Nations have emphasized the need to learn from the disaster and institute fundamental changes in the social infrastructure. Some individuals have expressed reluctance to donate for fear that their contributions would be siphoned off by corruption. Right now, the people of Haiti want food, water, burial of their dead and emergency medical care. That's how they define help; that's their agenda. Social reform is important, but right now it's our agenda, not theirs, and we need to keep the two separate.

When we reach out to a neighbor or a friend, we also need to focus on their agenda, not our need to immediately tell them what to do or what to feel. Anyone who has had an argument with a significant other and attempted to defuse the emotional issues by logical analysis to prove that he or she "shouldn't feel that way" will understand that you don't solve a "heart" problem (emotions and feelings) by a "head" (data and logic) process. In a helping relationship, the more a person's "heart" issues are responded to by the helper's "head" solutions, the wider the empathy gap.

The first thing that is necessary in helping someone who is feeling badly because a bubble has been burst is the ability to form an authentic, nonprescriptive, helping relationship. Specific advice and concrete action planning is essential, but it won't work unless the helper begins with feelings and emotions.

We can use Haiti as a wake-up call to the brutal realities of the world outside our predictable and relatively comfortable bubble. We need to help in any way we can. We can also learn to reach out to those inside our city and region. We can and should do both. The result will be a double win: fellow humans will be helped and we will be enriched.

David Noer writes a monthly column for the News & Record on leadership, organizational behavior and community issues.