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Several years ago I was on holiday in Devon or Cornwall, I can’t recall which. Following one of the obligatory cream teas (usually one of several each day) I came across a refurbished observatory that had been transformed into a tropical animal house of sorts. Being an animal lover I decided to call in and see what it was like.
Once inside I was pleasantly surprised and enthralled by the attendants who were very keen on talking to the visitors. Were possible and feasible they would bring one of the animals out of its enclosure and talk in far more detail about the creature they were now handling. In some cases visitors could also pet and/or hold the animals. ‘This is so cool’, I thought.
As I wandered around, photographing everything and talking to the keepers, my attention was drawn to one of the aides who had her back to me. She seemed to have a group of people enthralled with whatever she was talking about. My curiosity was peaked and over I trundled.
As I approached, the attendant turned and I’m not ashamed to say that I almost screamed; internally I probably did. She was holding a very large spider, a Chilean Red Kneed Tarantula to be specific. I was unaware of that at the time, although I was aware of a huge desire to run screaming from the room. This may have appeared evident as the keeper motioned for me to have a seat on the bench, which I did, albeit with a degree of reluctance, although I considered the bench to be at a safe distance.
It’s important to point out that I don’t consider myself to be arachnophobic. I’m just not a fan of a spider big enough to put a saddle on and ride around the room. Nevertheless, I gradually became more and more interested in the discussion. However, what really impressed me was the ease at which some people where happy to hold the imposing arachnid, or have it placed on a white blouse for a holiday snap with a difference. If anyone had told me, at any point before I arrived at this venue, that I would do the same, I would have laughed and probably doubted their sanity.
I don’t remember clearly how the keeper identified me as a possible host for her hairy friend, but she did. Clearly versed in dealing with those who are not accustomed to heavyweight creepy-crawlies, she eased my anxiety in a number of ways. Firstly she told me that it was called Tina and that the species was not known to have bitten anyone. Then she informed me how to hold her and that Tina was
quite happy to sit in two cupped hands no matter how much they were shaking; believe me they were.
So, Tina the tarantula was popped into my hands while the attendant continued to talk about spiders from around the world. I remember thinking at the time how heavy Tina felt and how funny it seemed when she moved a little, ‘to get comfortable’, I was informed. And there we were, Tina and I. She was happily sitting in my hands, facing away from me and I was looking at her and occasionally at the keeper.
All was going well until the lady giving the talk picked up the shell casing (spiders shed their skins) and started showing it to the audience. It was the words ‘fang casing’ that caught my attention! It must have caught Tina’s attention too because she chose that exact moment to stretch all of her eight legs and go for a stroll, namely turning round and heading up my arm.
At this point I decided that Tina may be more comfortable anywhere else but on my shaking arms, although she appeared quite happy and seemed to pick up a little bit of speed. Was she also smiling with her fangs that had never pierced human skin or was that in my imagination? Her curator must have heard my high-pitched squeak for help because she calmly lifted the hairy explorer and popped her with someone else, probably to the thanks of both Tina and I.
I have never forgotten that experience, although I can never quite recall where the tropical house was. Since then I have held two spiders and several snakes, plus an assortment of other weird creatures. Is there a point to all this you must wonder? Not so much a point, rather a personal example of a barrier that I overcame at that point in my life. Spiders still make me jump, it’s just that I know that I can handle them (non-lethal I hasten to point out), especially if there is a jar or container handy.
Barriers come in all sorts of forms; physical, cognitive, emotional, psychological and behavioural to name but a few. We are constantly challenged to know what is real. Our world is made up of perceptions, personal filters, bias and the infamous self-limiting belief system. How significant these are to an individual or their progress towards a goal will depend on a number of factors that would need to be explored with the client.
If I go back to my example, I was aided in my progress by an experienced professional; someone who knew what to say and do to enable me to do something that I never dreamed I would ever do. This is incredibly synergistic to the role of a coach and/or mentor. It’s the age old question; ‘what could get in your way?’
I’m not a believer in the ‘you can achieve anything’ principal. Rather I believe in working with individuals, teams and organisations to achieve what can be achieved. Some barriers cannot be crossed. If the keeper had been holding a scorpion or a wasp, for example, she would still be there with it. In these circumstances it is about working towards a solution that negates the need to cross that barrier; to find another
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