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I firmly hold the belief that it is always possible to evolve. My view is you can in fact teach an old dog new tricks, on the condition that the mature being is open-minded and willing to learn. As long as the old dog 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 skill I am attempting to master, although I am set in my ways? It is an important one, an issue I have grappled with, often, for my entire life. I have been trying … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. My regrets to all the remaining arachnid species that exist; I have to be realistic about my potential for change as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I encounter most often. This includes on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me with discomfort as I type.

I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “fan” status, but my project has been at least attaining Normal about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders since I was a child (unlike other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had ample brothers around to guarantee I never had to handle any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the same room as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family slumbering on, and attempting to manage a spider that had crawled on to the family room partition. I “managed” with it by retreating to a remote corner, almost into the next room (for fear that it ran after me), and discharging half a bottle of pesticide toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it did reach and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, whoever I was dating or cohabiting with was, by default, the least afraid of spiders out of the two of us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I produced whimpers of distress and beat a hasty retreat. In moments of solitude, my method was simply to vacate the area, plunge the room into darkness and try to erase the memory of its presence before I had to enter again.

Recently, I visited a pal's residence where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the window frame, primarily hanging out. In order to be less fearful, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, part of the group, just lounging in the sun and overhearing us yap. It sounds quite foolish, but it had an impact (a little bit). Alternatively, making a conscious choice to become less phobic did the trick.

Be that as it may, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the rational arguments not to be scared. I am aware huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I know they eat things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). It is well-established they are one of the planet's marvelous, non-threatening to people creatures.

Unfortunately, however, they do continue to walk like that. They propel themselves in the deeply alarming and borderline immoral way imaginable. The vision of their multiple limbs carrying them at that frightening pace causes my primordial instincts to go into high alert. They are said to only have a standard octet of limbs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they get going.

But it isn’t their fault that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I have discovered that taking the steps of making an effort to avoid instantly leap out of my body and retreat when I see one, trying to remain still and breathing, and intentionally reflecting about their beneficial attributes, has actually started to help.

The mere fact that they are fuzzy entities that dart around with startling speed in a way that causes me nocturnal distress, doesn’t mean they merit my intense dislike, or my girly screams. It is possible to acknowledge when fear has clouded my judgment and driven by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever attain the “trapping one under a cup and escorting it to the garden” stage, but one can't be sure. A bit of time remains left in this veteran of life yet.