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I firmly hold the belief that it is forever an option to transform. I believe you truly can instruct a veteran learner, as long as the old dog is willing and eager for knowledge. Provided that the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and work to become a improved version.

Alright, I confess, I am the old dog. And the lesson I am attempting to master, although I am decrepit? It is an significant challenge, something I have struggled with, frequently, for my whole existence. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward the common huntsman. My regrets to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, dominant, and the one I encounter most often. Including three times in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but I'm grimacing and grimacing as I type.

It's unlikely I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but I've dedicated effort to at least achieving a standard level of composure about them.

An intense phobia regarding spiders since I was a child (in contrast to other children who adore them). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to engage with any directly, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the same room as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “managed” with it by standing incredibly far away, practically in the adjoining space (in case it pursued me), and spraying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

As I got older, whomever I was in a relationship with or sharing a home with was, as a matter of course, the least afraid of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with managing the intruder, while I made low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my tactic was simply to exit the space, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to re-enter.

Not long ago, I visited a friend’s house where there was a very large huntsman who resided within the sill, mostly just lingering. As a means to be more comfortable with its presence, I envisioned the spider as a female entity, a gal, one of us, just lounging in the sun and eavesdropping on us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it worked (a little bit). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less phobic did the trick.

Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it up. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders are not dangerous to humans. I recognize they prey upon things like flies and mosquitoes (my mortal enemies). I am cognizant they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They move in the utterly horrifying and almost unjust way imaginable. The vision of their multiple limbs transporting them at that terrible speed induces my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that triples when they move.

However 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. My experience has shown that implementing the strategy of trying not to instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, working to keep composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has begun to yield results.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that move hastily with startling speed in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they deserve my hatred, or my shrieks of terror. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and fueled by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” phase, but you never know. There’s a few years left in this seasoned learner yet.