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I am someone who believes that it is never too late to evolve. My view is you can in fact train a seasoned creature, on the condition that the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. Provided that the individual in question is prepared to acknowledge when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a more enlightened self.

OK yes, I am the old dog. And the skill I am attempting to master, even though I am decrepit? It is an major undertaking, a feat I have grappled with, repeatedly, for my whole existence. The quest I'm on … to develop a calmer response toward huntsman spiders. Apologies to all the other spiders that exist; I have to be realistic about my capacity for development as a human. The target inevitably is the huntsman because it is large, in charge, and the one I see with the greatest frequency. Encompassing a trio of instances in the recent past. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but a shudder runs through me and grimacing as I type.

I doubt I’ll ever reach “enthusiast” status, but my project has been at least becoming a baseline of normalcy about them.

A deep-seated fear of spiders from my earliest years (in contrast to other children who find them delightful). In my formative years, I had ample brothers around to ensure I never had to confront any myself, but I still panicked if one was visibly in the same room 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 crawled on to the family room partition. I “managed” with it by positioning myself at a great distance, practically in the adjoining space (in case it ran after me), and discharging half a bottle of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it managed to annoy and disturb everyone in my house.

In my adult life, my romantic partner at the time or cohabiting with was, automatically, the most courageous of spiders in our pairing, and therefore responsible for managing the intruder, while I made frightened noises and ran away. If I was on my own, my strategy was simply to leave the room, douse the illumination and try to ignore its being before I had to re-enter.

Recently, I stayed at a friend’s house where there was a notably big huntsman who lived in the window frame, primarily hanging out. In order to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a girlie, in our circle, just relaxing in the sun and eavesdropping on us yap. Admittedly, it appears extremely dumb, but it was effective (a little bit). Alternatively, actively deciding to become less scared proved successful.

Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I think about all the sensible justifications not to be scared. It is a fact that huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they consume things like buzzing nuisances (my mortal enemies). I am cognizant they are one of nature’s beautiful, benign creatures.

Yet, regrettably, they do continue to walk like that. They travel in the utterly horrifying and borderline immoral way possible. The appearance of their many legs transporting them at that alarming velocity induces my ancient psyche to go into high alert. They are said to only have eight legs, but I believe that increases exponentially when they move.

However it is no fault of their own that they have frightening appendages, and they have just as much right to be where I am – possibly a greater claim. I’ve found that implementing the strategy of working to prevent have a visceral panic reaction and retreat when I see one, trying to remain composed and breathing steadily, and intentionally reflecting about their positive qualities, has proven somewhat effective.

The mere fact that they are furry beings that move hastily with startling speed in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they warrant my loathing, or my girly screams. I am willing to confess when I’ve been wrong and fueled by irrational anxiety. It is uncertain I’ll ever reach the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” level, but one can't be sure. A bit of time remains within this veteran of life yet.