Turning Poison Into Power

How Success Flourishes From Failure

You Take More of the Thing That Poisons You, Until You Turn It Into a Tonic — Jordan Peterson

I first heard this quote in a Jordan Peterson interview with Chris Williamson. The phrasing hit hard. It captures something ancient and deeply true: the path to growth often runs straight through what scares or harms us.

The Pattern in Stories and Scripture

This idea echoes the Hero’s Journey that Joseph Campbell and Christopher Vogler described so well. The hero descends into darkness, confronts the monster (or the poison), and returns with an elixir—a tonic—that benefits everyone.

It also mirrors the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. The poison of sin and death was laid fully on Him. He absorbed it completely, went through death, and emerged victorious, turning the ultimate poison into the ultimate gift: hope of eternal life and reconciliation with God.

Philippians 2:9-11 speaks to this certainty: God exalted Jesus to the highest place so that “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow… and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord.” Most scholars see this as both invitation and inevitable reality.

As a Christian, I believe Jesus died for the sins of all humanity, was crucified, and rose on the third day. Paul captures the triumph in 1 Corinthians 15:55-57:

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin… But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Christ’s pattern isn’t just historical—it’s a living template for how we grow. The same power that looks mythological is expressed in humble, gritty reality. God doesn’t stand at a distance. He steps into the hardest parts and absorbs the blows on our behalf.

The Poison of Failure (and Why We Need It)

I turn 50 in September. I’ve had many teachers—parents, coaches, Taekwondo masters, professors, and peers. Each one, in some way, reflected Christ: they held knowledge I lacked, invested time in me, and cheered when I succeeded. Some demonstrated mastery so beautifully it was mesmerizing.

As an art teacher with 25 years of experience (preschool through college, plus adults and seniors in nursing homes), I’ve watched the same thing happen to everyone. When a new skill appears, learners falter. It’s like riding a bike for the first time—wobbly, scary, humbling.

Failure feels like poison. It hurts, exposes weakness, and triggers shame. Many people quit the moment it shows up. I see this aversion in my students constantly—and in my own life more often than I’d like to admit.

What Peterson’s quote illuminates so clearly is that the poison can become the path to the tonic. You don’t have to swallow it all at once. You can take small, manageable doses, recover, and repeat. Over time, you build tolerance. What once felt deadly becomes fuel for growth.

Failure whispers (or sometimes shouts):

• This is dangerous.
• You aren’t tough enough (yet).
• This could hurt you—or worse.
• You are weaker than you want to be.
• You can’t protect yourself or others.
• You are a failure.

Two Superpowers for Facing the Poison

We already possess the tools to transform it:

1. Humility – Approach failure as normal and temporary. It’s data, not a verdict.
2. Discipline – Stay in the discomfort long enough for the power of the poison to diminish. The first days (or attempts) are the hardest.

This is why “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” resonates. The step is usually awkward.

A Personal Takeaway

I often think about the days before Jesus left heaven—leaving perfect communion with the Father to become fully human, vulnerable, and dependent. The incarnation itself was the first small dose of poison: supreme power exchanged for infant fragility. That leap of faith launched the greatest rescue mission in history.

For me, the quote boils down to this: Remember Christ. When failure feels overwhelming, remember the One who took the full dose, conquered it, and now walks with us through our smaller versions of the same journey.

In the art room (and in life), this means:

• Normalizing the wobbly first attempts.
• Celebrating the courage to try again.
• Trusting that repeated exposure to the “poison” of not knowing turns into skill, confidence, and eventually mastery.

The poison isn’t the enemy. Avoiding it is.

What “poison” are you facing right now that might actually be your path to a tonic? Start small, stay humble, remain disciplined. The resurrection pattern is still at work.