There are lots of things to be afraid of – like the time I opened the curtains one morning last week to find 8 hairy legs in front of me! No, it wasn’t 4 construction workers on a scaffold outside my window (although that would have been quite disturbing), but a huntsman spider. There was a moment of panic as I tried to determine whether the spider was outside, or inside.

I did a split-second risk assessment. What was the likelihood of harm, and to what degree? If it was inside the glass, and the spider jumped at me and caused me to fall over backwards in alarm, at which point I knocked my head on our ridiculously large wooden toybox, there was the unlikely (but still possible) chance of major injury or death, resulting in a ‘high’ risk on my mental safety-risk matrix. But, if it was just inside our torn fly screen and still on the other side of the pane of glass, then the most likely consequence would be a little shudder or gasp, with negligible impact. Curiously, on my mental safety-risk matrix (plagiarised from a childsafe document), this still results in a ‘medium’ safety risk. What is wrong with the world?! Is there risk and danger everywhere?

You can rest assured that the crisis was averted, and no fatality occurred. The hairy legs were safely outside, where I watched it over several days, as it hid in the shade of the window frame during the day and ventured out onto the middle of the pane at night to find insects. I wasn’t afraid of the spider when I knew a few millimetres of glass prevented it from coming inside the house, where of course it could terrorise me in the middle of the night as I slept. 

Fear is such a relative thing, pliable and malleable depending on the circumstances. US President Franklin Roosevelt said in his inaugural speech, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself”. I challenge that statement. I can find heaps of actual things to be afraid of.

Back to the spiders – I once was having a shower when I noticed a huntsman spider on the wall above me. Holding back perfectly justifiable panic, I held my wits about me (as well as the shower curtain) knowing that the spider was probably waiting for a small flying thing to come and land near it. The spider had no concern for me at all, and would leave me alone. Ha! I laughed in confidence. I am not afraid of you, Mr Hairy-legs! Ha! I laughed again in a slightly maniacal tone verging on hysteria. And then…! the spider jumped at me and landed on my leg! Oh, the horrors! It was as if the spider had read my mind and wanted to call my bluff. From there the carnage was dreadful as the spider fell off me with a healthy coating of soap that broke down its water resistance, and it was washed down the drain, with its multitude of legs scrabbling about for a last minute grasp at deliverance.

I don’t know what the moral of that story is, except never, ever underestimate the creepy ability of spiders to read your mind. However, I’m nowhere near frightened of spiders as I am of fluttering things like moths and grasshoppers, but that’s a whole other story (and many visits to the psychologist).

Other things are scary, too, like running out of toilet paper, and not having any tissues either, and wondering what sort of society we have created for ourselves where we are so dependant on mass-produced items that are also disposable. Is the wide-scale plantation timber business - which creates a mono-culture and hinders biodiversity - okay when we think about the comfort of our backsides? I guess it is, but to be on the safe side, I use recycled toilet paper, which as some people think, is not actually old toilet paper washed and hung out to dry. I believe the toilet paper is made from recycled office paper. I could be wrong. But I think the other form of recycling toilet paper is only done in places like Russia.

I drove to Brisbane last weekend and noticed yet another road being built to service yet another version of the Western Freeway, with stacks of timber cleared to make way for this new slab of bitumen. A little bit scary, knowing that the NSW Native Vegetation Act seeks to protect trees from being cleared, essentially to the point of preventing farmers from even producing and selling firewood on their own property. (And I assume the Qld legislation is similar). The tree police can come in and reprimand you (with a hefty fine) saying, "Watch where you swing that chainsaw, buddy. Firewood doesn't grow on trees, you know."

But elsewhere in the document, the fine print says its okay to clear the trees in cases of ‘state significant development’, mining or road works. So while the little person tries to make a living from their local resources, the people in the city can drive from one side of town to the other, polluting and using fossil fuels, and crying out for less traffic and better direct roads, and so the trees are slain to make way in the name of progress.

Scary, scary. 

And while in Brisbane, we attended the Northey St Organic Markets at Windsor and let the funky/hippy community scene enfold us. We heard a cool busker who sang catchy lyrics with his rhythmic guitar playing, many times better than another busker who had a record of Crowded House memorised that he mournfully sang over and over again. The good guitar busker had a business card that indicated his name was Laurie Agar. Some of his words were “I dunno why I watch so much tv, dunno why I watch so much tv…” I can’t remember how the rhymes went, but believe me, there were other lines with separate words that did rhyme. Maybe you had to be there. My daughter thought the songs were so witty she wandered over and recorded some on her phone. Hopefully she won’t get thrown in jail for stealing music. One song caught our attention with the words “Bob Brown – he’s the one that won’t let you down. Bob Brown.” As far as I can remember in my non-political brain, Bob Brown is the leader of the Greens… or is that Bob Downe? Anyway, I thought that was quite tricky - to get people interested in his skilful entertainment, then throw in some political views or social commentary. Oh, if only I could do that.

I’ll have to start playing guitar. 

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