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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to transform. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the old dog is open-minded and willing to learn. So long as the person is prepared to acknowledge when it was mistaken, and work to become a more enlightened self.

OK yes, the metaphor applies to me. And the lesson I am trying to learn, despite the fact that I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, something I have struggled with, often, for my entire life. I have been trying … to grow less fearful of huntsman spiders. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. The focus must remain on the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I encounter most often. Including a trio of instances in the previous seven days. Inside my home. You can’t see me, but I’m shaking my head at the very thought as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but I’ve been working on at least becoming a standard level of composure about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders dating back to my youth (unlike other children who find them delightful). During my childhood, I had plenty of male siblings around to guarantee I never had to confront any myself, but I still freaked out if one was obviously in the general area as me. Vividly, I recall of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had ascended the lounge-room wall. I “handled” with it by retreating to a remote corner, nearly crossing the threshold (in case it ran after me), and discharging a generous amount of bug repellent toward it. The spray failed to hit the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or living with was, automatically, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore tasked with handling the situation, while I produced whimpers of distress and fled the scene. If I was on my own, my strategy was simply to exit the space, douse the illumination and try to erase the memory of its being before I had to enter again.

Not long ago, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who resided within the window frame, mostly just stationary. As a means to be less fearful, I imagined the spider as a her, a one of the girls, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us chat. Admittedly, it appears rather silly, but it had an impact (to some degree). Or, making a conscious choice to become less scared worked.

Whatever the case, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I recognize they eat things like insect pests (the bane of my existence). It is well-established they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Alas, they do continue to move like that. They propel themselves in the utterly horrifying and somehow offensive way imaginable. The appearance of their multiple limbs carrying them at that terrible speed induces my caveman brain to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they move.

But it cannot be blamed on them that they have unnerving limbs, and they have the same privilege to be where I am – if not more. I have discovered that implementing the strategy of making an effort to avoid immediately exit my own skin and flee when I see one, attempting to stay still and breathing, and deliberately thinking about their positive qualities, has actually started to help.

Simply due to the reality that they are furry beings that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by unfounded fear. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “catching one in a Tupperware container and relocating it outdoors” stage, but miracles happen. Some life is left left in this seasoned learner yet.