Lucky Shot | Guest Post by Tiffany Greene
How I learned to control light, speed, and time—in photographs and in life.
Amid Life is, at its heart, about resilience. I post weekly about my career and personal reinvention, and I’ve invited some friends to share their stories using a simple prompt:
Tell us about a moment when everything changed.
Today’s moment-of-change story comes from Tiffany Greene, a Career & leadership Coach who partners creatively with clients through career transitions to realize the choice over their experiences.
Drawing on a 25-year career as an HR executive, she cultivates cultures of trust and engagement through visible leadership, profound curiosity, and a true understanding that people make companies and not the other way around.
Here’s Tiffany’s story:
I fell in love again at age 42. Something new and beautiful stirred within me. I didn’t know what I needed—wasn’t aware I was even looking—until I found what I’d been missing.
Her name was Nikon.
A midlife romance
I did not find photography. Photography found me. It came at a time when my children were more independent, and my career was stable, but I craved creative expression. Photography was an outlet for everything I felt in midlife, the spectrum of complex human emotions—from despair to passion.
From the first click, shooting felt natural to me. I loved the feel of the camera in my hand, the sound of the shutter, and the meditative process of capturing an image. I especially loved failing at something new.
When friends and family expressed appreciation and resonance for my work, however, I deflected. “Lucky shot,” I replied, or “Beautiful setting. You couldn’t miss.”
The word artist freaked me out; that was way too lofty for a girl taking pictures for fun. And saying “thank you” would have meant accepting credit for creating something, but for me, photography was a feeling that couldn’t be owned.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the need to lay claim to an experience or its results. The pleasure I felt when taking pictures could not be labeled as either talent or skill—it transcended ego.
Free from expectations
Photography had no tolerance for the world of schedules, deadlines, and expectations that consumed me in corporate America. I didn’t crave the ‘atta girls’ in this creative space. No one could tell me when to shoot, what to shoot, where, or how.
I was finally free.
I cared little for technical rules. I took care of my equipment, but I was never very interested in my gear. It wasn’t the brand name or the latest digital innovation that turned me on.
What thrilled me was the absolute joy of capturing something completely unexpected in my way, on my time, and without an expectant audience. I lost track of schedules and obligations as I explored this new creative universe, and in the process, I found myself.
There is beauty in trusting something enough to let go.
I took my camera everywhere. I asked to capture images of strangers in public places. I became intensely curious about angles, light, and focal points. I attended conferences and shot completely new subjects—the stem of a tulip, an iguana, sports, models in bikinis, stemware, still-life, liquids in motion, human hands, and the moon.
When my shots were off or out of focus, I wasn’t disappointed—only more determined. I began to see photography as a metaphor for my life.
Why had this new hobby offered me so much perspective? Where should I focus?
The camera helped me to slow down in a life that was moving far too quickly for my highly sensitive nervous system. Noise, lights, and activity overstimulate me, but with photography, I can control the input.
I open and close the aperture, adjusting the depth of field and amount of light.
I adjust the shutter speed, allowing for more or less movement in the shot.
I set the ISO, adapting the sensitivity of the camera based on the environment.
I decide where to stand, how to compose the shot, and when to change the angle.
Where is my focal point? I get to choose.
Controlling my light, speed, and time.
I imagined the euphoria I’d feel if I could control my reality like I composed images through my lens.
More light during a long and cold New England winter
A slower, more intentional pace.
Focus away from a 9-5:30 office setting
And above all—a dial to adapt the environment to the sensitivity of my nervous system.
My camera and I will soon celebrate our ninth anniversary. I’m deeply grateful for our relationship and the creative outlet she offers me. I love that there is never a performance review, a board meeting, or, frankly, other shareholders. She never tells me if I got it right or wrong or if a shot is good or bad.
In the spaces without judgment, my stress melts away, and I can tap into creativity of the highest order—completely embodied by the moment. That’s where art lives.
I still get “lucky shots”. But my camera has taught me that luck flows from turning practice, skill, and chance encounters into something new and beautiful.
I dream about taking her to new places, seeing more of the world together, or maybe just a casual hang in the backyard looking for bugs, butterflies, and the change of the seasons.
Heartfelt thanks to Tiffany for sharing this revelatory story—and her beautiful art—with us. 💕👏
Tiffany is an Associate Certified Coach through the International Coaching Federation and is certified in the Energy Leadership Index™ Assessment. She supports professionals at all levels, including executives, fostering transformative growth and sustainable success.
Tiffany offers a complimentary coaching consultation. Get in touch at greenecareercoach.com or on LinkedIn
Work hard. Be brave. Believe.
Catherine
Wow! The pictures are exquisite! What a lovely article. Couldn't help smiling about the camera being a Nikon. The one and only according to my late husband 😁