The silence after the last shot

Just finished coaching a session with a kid who’s been stuck at the same time for three months. No breakthroughs, no magic fixes—just breath, cold air, and the hollow echo of a rifle firing into nothing. I told him to stand still after the last shot, just breathe, listen to the room. He did. And for ten seconds, the whole world was quiet. Not empty—full. Like the air remembered what it felt like to be listened to. That’s the thing they don’t teach in training: how to sit in the aftermath. How to hear yourself when you’ve stopped trying to win.