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I maintain the conviction that it is always possible to evolve. My view is you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the old dog is willing and willing to learn. As long as the person is ready to confess when it was mistaken, and strive to be a better dog.

OK yes, I am that seasoned creature. And the trick I am attempting to master, although I am a creature of habit? It is an important one, a feat I have battled against, often, for my entire life. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward those large arachnids. Pardon me, all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be grounded about my possible growth as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is imposing, dominant, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. This includes three times in the recent past. Within my dwelling. Though unseen, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

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

A deep-seated fear of spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who adore them). Growing up, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to handle any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was visibly in the immediate vicinity as me. One incident stands out of one morning when I was eight, my family unconscious, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had ascended the living room surface. I “dealt” with it by standing incredibly far away, almost into the next room (for fear that it chased me), and spraying a generous amount of insect spray toward it. The chemical cloud missed the spider, but it managed to annoy and irritate everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or living with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of dealing with it, while I made frightened noises 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 ignore its existence before I had to return.

Not long ago, I visited a friend’s house where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the sill, for the most part lingering. To be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a her, a gal, part of the group, just relaxing in the sun and overhearing us gab. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it had an impact (somewhat). Put another way, making a conscious choice to become more fearless worked.

Regardless, I've made an effort to continue. I contemplate all the logical reasons not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders pose no threat to me. I understand they prey upon things like insect pests (my mortal enemies). I know they are one of nature’s beautiful, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to scuttle like that. They move in the utterly horrifying and almost unjust way possible. The appearance of their multiple limbs transporting them at that frightening pace causes my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They claim to only have eight legs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they get going.

However it cannot be blamed on them that they have frightening appendages, and they have an equal entitlement to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that employing the techniques of working to prevent instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and consciously focusing about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

Just because they are furry beings that scuttle about at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, doesn’t mean they deserve my hatred, or my girly screams. I am willing to confess when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by unfounded fear. It is uncertain I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and taking it outside” stage, but miracles happen. Some life is left left in this old dog yet.