surprise, surprise

.
This morning I woke up at 9:30. I haven't done that in 30 or more years, so it was something of a surprise.

The apparent cause was the fact that I was watching a pretty-good B thriller on TV last night and I wanted to know how it turned out. That too hasn't happened in a long time -- mostly, I can smell the endings from a mile off. But the ending on this thing -- my wife tells me it was called "The International" -- was more delicately balanced if somewhat lacking in affect and care ... it could go a number of ways -- so I stayed up to 11:30 or 12 waiting to see. I was pleased that it was not a 'happy ending.' It wasn't "The Parallax View," but it was OK. It was worth waiting for. But 12 is way past my bedtime ... leading to...

9:30 ... holy shit!

Which made me remember a passing remark by the Dalai Lama -- "It can't be helped." 9:30 is just 9:30, however much of a 'surprise' I may find it. There is no undoing what is done, no praising or blaming or revising or improving or making it spiritually noteworthy. It can't be helped, that's all.

Things can't be helped and yet one of the cornerstone aspects of human beings is to help. I don't just mean the earthy-crunchy ways of helping, the altruistic 'compassion' that is good, but never quite good enough. I mean a deeper inclination to involve oneself, to improve, to revise ... to make it mine.

Not good, not bad ... just ... it can't be helped. And yet helping is woven deep, deeper, deepest. It can't be helped that I may wish to help, however that helping is defined.

9:30 ... holy shit!

It can't be helped. The hour, the surprise, the can't-be-helped-ness ... can't be helped.

Who can help this moment in which I may set about helping? It's ludicrous; I am ludicrous; and still, for the moment, it can't be helped.

It can't be helped ... what a good reminder.
.