"At its purest, karate enables individuals to come to terms with fear. It's not about ego," he says. "When you do karate well, there is no 'me'. When you play music well, there is only music, no 'me'."

Mott rarely refers to his parallel - and very physical - life around the music department. But clues do exist. His Founders College office has a quiet, Eastern simplicity - black furniture and uncluttered surfaces. And the titles of his music CDs (Paganini Flies with Dragons, Tiger Running...Nearer Breathing) reflect his passion.

If, at 19, American-born Mott hadn't read The Way of Karate by George Mattson, he might have been "confined to a smaller me," he says. But Mott is no karate missionary. Still, wherever he has settled, he's started a club.

He has extolled the benefits of breathing and fitness for musicians in a series of articles he wrote for Musicworks in 1982. And he once did a six-week stint as a wellness expert on CityTV's breakfast show with Anne Rohmer. It was the closest he came to proselytizing.

Now he concentrates on the converted, like the motley crew at his dojo on a Monday night. He notices a tall, gangly guy stooping to kick and block. He stops the class.

"Often tall people want to be shorter and short people want to be taller. Your body's perfect. Don't try to get involved in making it into something it's not. Learn what it is." In true Zen tradition, Mott's pointing the way.