(Approx 2 minute 5 second read)

I was up at 5:30 this morning and popped into my home dojo.
.
Dark outside, nothing stirring, it was so quiet, just how I like it.
.
The door to the dojo swung open with its familiar creak, I must oil those hinges, and I felt this wave of calm come over me.
.
The mats were empty. The only sound was the low hum of the lights. There’s a kind of stillness here that doesn’t exist anywhere else.
.
Do you feel something similar when you walk into your dojo?
.
Someone said to me the other day that I write about similar stuff. Well, yes. This Page isn’t neutral, it’s not meant to be.
.
But sometimes I will delve into the depths of my memories and pull something out that I haven’t written about in a while, before those memories disappear into the ether.
.
There’s a line from the film Layer Cake that always stuck with me: “Meditation is just concentrating the front of the mind on a mundane task so the rest of the mind can find peace.”
.
I get it.
.
You don’t get that in everyday life. Outside, everything’s faster, louder, busier. But here, in the dojo, there’s room to breathe. It’s not spiritual in any way. It’s just calm, no noise, no movement, no pressure. Just space.
.
So, I started the ‘mundane task’ of cleaning and disinfecting the mats and equipment. Not checking for anything in particular – just moving. And when I finished, I started to run through kata.
.
When I’m alone, I can go into them properly. Not for anyone else, not for demonstration, just for me. No shortcuts. Just movement and feeling.
.
Practicality may be the foundation of what I teach – but like many others, I’ve come to appreciate everything else karate offers.
.
After practicing a few kata, I turn to my ‘friend’, the makiwara. Back in the UK, I had a straw makiwara in my garden and used to hit it around 500 times a day. Now I’ve got the leather-padded kind. I have a second one too, made by myself from an old snow ski with a hard foam pad attached. It has a completely different feel to the wood and leather.
.
The makiwara isn’t just a physical challenge; it’s a test of your commitment. It demands effort, consistency, and patience. For me, it’s one of my favorite tools in training.
.
When the ‘thwack’ stops its back to the quiet. And that stillness… it stays with you, if you let it.
.
Those moments are pretty rare these days aren’t they. Our minds are constantly occupied – planning, analyzing, worrying, reacting. Always doing something, always thinking.
.
There are times where we just need to switch off.
.
I don’t know if it has anything to do with getting older, but I cherish the times when it’s quiet. And sometimes, that’s the best training of all.
.
Stillness has its own kind of discipline, and its own kind of reward.
.
.
Written by Adam Carter – Shuri Dojo