Before the Noise: Moments Alone – Finding Stillness in the Dojo.

 

Posted by ADAM CARTER on JUL 29, 2025

Before the Noise: Moments Alone – Finding Stillness in the Dojo.

(Approx 1 minute 40 second read)

I was up at 5:30 am this morning and popped into the dojo.

It was so quiet.

The mats were empty. The only sound was the low hum of the lights and the distant echo of traffic. There’s a kind of stillness here that doesn’t exist anywhere else – maybe because of the noise and movement of people later on.

Before class arrives, there’s this brief window – no noise, no movement, no pressure. Just space.

Sometimes I walk the floor, cleaning and disinfecting mats and equipment. Not checking for anything in particular – just moving.

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.

Other times I run through kata – usually the more advanced ones, the ones that demand my full attention. When I’m alone, I can go into them properly. Not for anyone else, not for demonstration, just for me. No shortcuts. No noise. Just movement and feeling.

If I have time I’ll work through some kobudo. There’s something about the weight and rhythm of the weapon in your hands that sharpens focus. It brings everything back to centre.

Now and then, I glance up into the mirror – not out of vanity, but to make sure what I see matches what I feel. It’s not about looking sharp. It’s about accuracy in the movement. Does it line up? Does it feel right?

You don’t get that in everyday life. Outside, everything’s faster, louder, busier. But here, before class, there’s room to breathe. It’s not spiritual in any way. It’s just calm.

This place has seen years of training, frustration, breakthroughs, and repetition. In these quiet minutes, it becomes something else entirely. A kind of mirror.

Not for techniques, but for where your mind is. For who you are when nothing is demanded of you.

Then the door opens. Footsteps come in. Greetings from the students and the conversations begin. The rhythm of class builds up again.

But that stillness – it stays with you, if you let it.

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.

Written by Adam Carter - Shuri Dojo

Photo Credit: Noguchi Michiro. With thanks to James Sumarac