It was about 10 years ago, maybe more, and I remember the tournament very well. It was late morning and we were all early, standing on our designated Station, shaking hands. The usual air was heavy, almost palpable, and undeniably physical.Greetings over, I stepped back a few steps to “gather my awareness,” letting go of all that wouldn’t matter over the next few hours. My good friend and shooting companion that day, Bryan Brueck, walked over. He silently handed me a folded piece of paper…and went back to our cart to sit down.From Bryan’s expression, I opened the paper slowly. Already knowing the message had a purpose, a meaning…I was paying attention. ...