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I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to evolve. I believe you truly can instruct a veteran learner, as long as the mature being is willing and eager for knowledge. Provided that the old dog is ready to confess when it was wrong, and work to become a more enlightened self.

Alright, I confess, the metaphor applies to me. And the trick I am attempting to master, despite the fact that I am set in my ways? It is an important one, something I have grappled with, frequently, for my whole existence. My ongoing effort … to become less scared of huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my capacity for development as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is imposing, in charge, and the one I run into regularly. Including three times in the recent past. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but I'm grimacing at the very thought as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least achieving Normal about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who find them delightful). Growing up, I had plenty of male siblings around to ensure I never had to confront any directly, but I still panicked if one was clearly in the immediate vicinity as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had made its way onto the lounge-room wall. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, nearly crossing the threshold (for fear that it pursued me), and discharging a generous amount of pesticide toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

With the passage of time, whoever I was dating or living with was, as a matter of course, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with managing the intruder, while I made whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to vacate the area, turn off the light and try to ignore its existence before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I visited a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who resided within the casement, primarily lingering. In order to be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a one of the girls, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (somewhat). Alternatively, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic did the trick.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of the world's exquisite, harmless-to-humans creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to move like that. They travel in the deeply alarming and somehow offensive way conceivable. The vision of their numerous appendages propelling them at that alarming velocity induces my primordial instincts to enter panic mode. They claim to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I am convinced that multiplies when they get going.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have scary legs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – perhaps even more so. I have discovered that employing the techniques of trying not to immediately exit my own skin and retreat when I see one, working to keep still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their good points, has actually started to help.

Just because they are hairy creatures that scuttle about with startling speed in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they warrant my loathing, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and motivated by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” phase, but one can't be sure. There’s a few years left in this veteran of life yet.