I am someone who believes that it is always possible to evolve. I think you absolutely are able to instruct a veteran learner, on the condition that the experienced individual is willing and willing to learn. As long as the person is ready to confess when it was in error, and endeavor to transform into a improved version.
Alright, I confess, I am that seasoned creature. And the lesson I am attempting to master, even though I am set in my ways? It is an major undertaking, something I have battled against, repeatedly, for my whole existence. I have been trying … to become less scared of the common huntsman. Apologies to all the different eight-legged creatures that exist; I have to be pragmatic about my possible growth as a human. It also has to be the huntsman because it is imposing, commanding, and the one I run into regularly. Encompassing on three separate occasions in the previous seven days. Within my dwelling. I'm not visible to you, but I’m shaking my head with discomfort as I type.
I'm skeptical I’ll ever reach “admirer” status, but my project has been at least achieving a standard level of composure about them.
I have been terrified of spiders dating back to my youth (as opposed to other children who adore them). During my childhood, I had a sufficient number of brothers around to guarantee I never had to handle any directly, but I still became hysterical if one was clearly in the general area as me. I have a strong memory of one morning when I was eight, my family still asleep, and facing the ordeal of a spider that had crawled on to the lounge-room wall. I “dealt” with it by retreating to a remote corner, practically in the adjoining space (lest it chased me), and spraying a significant portion of insect spray toward it. It didn’t reach the spider, but it succeeded in affecting and disturb everyone in my house.
As I got older, whoever I was dating or sharing a home with was, by default, the bravest of spiders between us, and therefore in charge of handling the situation, while I made low keening sounds and beat a hasty retreat. When finding myself alone, my strategy was simply to vacate the area, douse the illumination and try to ignore its existence before I had to re-enter.
In a recent episode, I was a guest at a pal's residence where there was a particularly sizable huntsman who made its home in the casement, mostly just lingering. In order to be less scared of it, I conceptualized the spider as a 'girlie', a gal, in our circle, just lounging in the sun and listening to us gab. It sounds quite foolish, but it worked (to some degree). Put another way, the deliberate resolution to become less phobic did the trick.
Regardless, I've endeavored to maintain this practice. I reflect upon all the rational arguments not to be scared. I know huntsman spiders won’t harm me. I understand they eat things like insect pests (creatures I despise). I know they are one of the world's exquisite, harmless-to-humans creatures.
Alas, they do continue to scuttle like that. They propel themselves in the most terrifying and almost unjust way conceivable. The sight of their multiple limbs propelling them at that terrible speed triggers my primordial instincts to kick into overdrive. They ostensibly only have eight legs, but I maintain that triples when they are in motion.
But it cannot be blamed on them 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 instantly leap out of my body and run away when I see one, trying to remain calm and collected, and consciously focusing about their good points, has proven somewhat effective.
Just because they are fuzzy entities that move hastily at an alarming rate in a way that invades my dreams, is no reason for they merit my intense dislike, or my high-pitched vocalizations. I can admit when fear has clouded my judgment and motivated by baseless terror. I doubt I’ll ever attain the “scooping one into plasticware and relocating it outdoors” phase, but miracles happen. A bit of time remains within this old dog yet.
