While I was living in Chicago in a studio, I briefly hosted my Aunt who just came from Mongolia. I looked up to her so much as a child. She was beautiful, confident, and intelligent, just like I wanted to be. And added to that, she was famous—everyone treated her differently so that there seemed to be a magical aura about her. She was a famous movie actress in Mongolia, even back then, when I was a little girl. Everyone knew her and recognized her. No moving violation tickets for her in UB, capital of Mongolia!

Now, seeing her after many years apart made me feel that she was remote from my experiences in America. She still carried her weight, magic, but also a supreme touch of humility that made her ask me for advice, nodding over with a piece of paper about a phone bill, or sometimes an advertisement postcard she received, as she puzzled seriously over each. The only advice she imparted to me during the stay was when I asked her what it was like to be famous.

My Aunt told me about how she tried to be the best that others saw in her, and advised me that I should do the same. I cavalierly thought to myself at the time, “Why cater to other people? Who cares what others think?” I even chalked it up to her being an actress or being a Mongolian.

I finally understood one day, three years later, what she meant. We are not the best judge of ourselves.  Other people see our best selves, our potential. Especially the ones who love us and who mentor us. Sometimes even strangers will glimpse who you really are, inside, or could be, and offer insight, support, and wisdom.

I blindly believed that I am living through life alone, am fighting to survive, and cynically dismissed a very deep but simple message my Aunt was trying to tell me. There is support all around us, and through serving others, through being the best others see in us, perhaps only then can we become the best of ourselves.