While selfies are as ubiquitous as water bottles where I live, the notion of a self portrait is all but unknown in places where, come to think of it, clean water is too. 

A woman decided to change that. She took a bunch of instant cameras to a small village in India and walked up to strangers. Once she started clicking, the crowd grew, especially with children who were mesmerized by the notion of seeing their own face. Who knows if they even had a clean mirror? What is it like to be able to see your own smile, the wisp of hair that won't behave, the color of your own chocolate eyes? 

Mothers rushed home to dress their family in their festive best, racing back to get a portrait. Everyone smiled, not a fake "say cheese" grin but the unfettered joy of witnessing magic. Old men with missing teeth felt enormous pride to hold proof of their own stature in their pocket, to whip out to show to admiring friends. 

While all of us have photographs of ourselves, how many actually see our own worth?

A woman who has put Herculean effort into her marriage in the last few months shared a moat I wrote about her with her therapist. Perhaps seeing herself through the lens of two people who have supported her was like a snapshot of herself. Yes, she had accomplished something remarkable. It clicked.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the unfortunate day when I cancelled our credit card, and more unfortunate still railed at John about it. Reading my own tale was like looking at a photograph. I could see myself from a broader angle, one not afforded to someone always looking for other people's flaws. It seems that there is no faster way to see egg on your face than peeking at your own reflection.