As the new year begins, I find myself reflecting on the many moments that shaped 2024, both personally and professionally. Among these, one of the most profound was the honor of delivering the commencement address to the graduating class of 2024 at the Trinity School of Medicine. Today, I want to revisit that special day by sharing the transcript of my speech.
Trinity School of Medicine Convocation 2024: Finding your art.
Delivered June 1, 2024 — Fox Theater, Atlanta, GA.
To the Wilsons, President Ulmer, Dean Geisler, faculty, staff, esteemed graduates, honored guests. Good afternoon and congratulations to the Trinity School of Medicine graduating class of 2024.
I am incredibly honored to be your commencement speaker. I am so incredibly proud of all of you and so grateful to be here. I'd also like to recognize all the parents, partners, and friends who helped you all get through this. Your success is theirs to share.
We spend most of our careers exploring the science of medicine. Today, on your graduation day, I'd like to shift gears a little and move us from the science to the art — from the head to the heart.
The secret to achieving all your goals.
Beyond my intense love of biochemistry and functional medicine, what most don't know about me is that I spent much of early adult life obsessed with goal setting. So today, on your graduation day — you're in luck. I'm going to share with you the secret to achieving all your goals.
Today's story starts on a summer's night many years ago. Late one night, while watching TV, I purchased a goal-setting program on audio cassette tapes. I was seventeen. There were helicopters and castles and fancy boats in the commercial. I was a 17-year-old who cleaned the dishes and toilets at my family's restaurant, so this looked like a step up. I convinced my parents to let me borrow their credit card, and several weeks later, a box appeared on my doorstep — a 30-day roadmap to success.
Set goal. Imagine all the pain to not achieving that goal. Work systematically. Achieve goal. Rinse and repeat. The intricacies of life were now distilled down to a linear algebraic equation.
Thirty days later… nothing had changed.
The reckoning.
Shortly thereafter, I started university and, with it, a period of academic initiation that most of you have been through. Biology, chemistry, physics, and calculus. All with labs, all with exam formats designed with two simple directives: test abstract knowledge loosely based on what you were taught, and, more importantly, to inflict post-traumatic stress.
The good news is that as university progressed, so did my grades — and with it, a scholarship opportunity to pursue chiropractic in Dallas, Texas.
By the time I had completed my chiropractic degree, beyond the requisite medical knowledge, I was so loaded with success "know-how" that practice success was — at least in my mind — practically guaranteed. So in the spring of 1999, I confidently signed an expensive five-year office lease, virtually sight unseen, in a town I had never lived in.
What could possibly go wrong?
The short answer: almost everything. As the days bled into weeks, there were no referrals, no patients. Just the summer heat and crickets.
"I will never refer a patient to you."
One morning, while riding the elevator with one of the esteemed family docs in my building, I introduced myself and began to share with him all of the wonderful benefits of chiropractic care.
"Hey, I'm going to stop you right there," he started, interrupting me mid-sentence.
"You seem like a really nice kid," he continued patronizingly, "but just to be perfectly clear — I will NEVER refer a patient to you."
The elevator stopped, the door opened, and we both walked out, somewhat awkwardly.
It was during this time of struggle that I went back to goal setting. I spent months developing a vision, mission, and purpose. I also went to work. With no money for rent, let alone advertising, no medical contacts, and no Facebook yet — I went door to door, literally, canvassing the homes around my new clinic.
There are two great motivators in this life: inspiration or desperation. You will be exposed to both at various times — jump on them when they come.
What started out as an embarrassingly stressful and awkward exercise turned into a transformative experience. I was invited into complete strangers' homes for lunch, dinner, tea, and many long conversations. Primary care was changing in Ontario — doctors were informing patients that due to time constraints, they could discuss only one concern at a time. I, in contrast, had all the time in the world to sit on someone's porch, drink tea, and discuss their health concerns.
The first patient that came into the clinic from this exercise was an elderly gentleman struggling to finish cutting his small lawn. I helped him finish, and he shared with me the stiffness and pain he was suffering with. After examining him, I took x-rays — and there it was. A classic bamboo spine, pathognomonic for ankylosing spondylitis. His spine was essentially fused, not really amenable to any appreciable amount of manual chiropractic care. There it was — my first patient, whom I couldn't even help.
Interestingly enough, this patient referred many people to me over the years. Probably for being honest with him. Or maybe because we made a connection.
The reset.
10 years in, we were busy. It was around then, in 2009, when a close friend and partner in our corporate wellness work passed away from esophageal cancer. I was devastated. I had prided myself on being one of his trusted healthcare providers, but when he needed me most, I couldn't help him.
In retrospect, I was way too hard on myself. The truth was — I was completely ignorant when it came to cancer or integrative oncology. The constant pursuit of business goals had exhausted my spirit. I was burnt out. No matter how much I worked, or how much success I had, I was the opposite of happy.
It was at this point that I decided to completely strip my practice down to the studs. My practice was no longer going to be about goals or success. It was going to be solely focused on one relationship — the one I had with my patients. I needed to be better.
I enrolled and was accepted into the Canadian College of Naturopathic Medicine. So began my six-year odyssey to complete my naturopathic medical degree, my prescribing license, and my IV certification — while running a full-time practice.
Each morning, I would see patients, then race off to college, clinic, or hospital, drive back and see patients again until well into the evening, go home, tuck my kids into bed, and study well into the night. There were many times I questioned the sanity of this decision. But what I was learning, how I was able to help my patients — motivated me to continue.
If it's difficult, you're being challenged. This is where growth happens.
Ten years after stripping the practice down to the bare walls, we had built one of the largest and busiest naturopathic medical clinics in Canada, focused on chronic metabolic diseases and integrative oncology. Today, almost 60% of our IV caseloads are for supportive cancer care — each day providing care and extending life to patients like my friend who passed away years earlier.
If you would have asked me, walking out of that elevator 25 years ago, could you ever have contemplated this?
Not in my wildest dreams.
The art versus the goal.
Goals are about things. Things are material constructs. They occupy space in our thinking brain. When we goal-set, we contemplate material things. Material things do not move the heart.
It is not here — (brain) — but in here — (heart) — where your true goals actually reside. It is also here where we connect with patients. Where we feel their pain. Where we wake up in the middle of the night, worried for their survival or well-being. Where our greatest expression of humanity lies.
The other problem with goal setting is that we will always overestimate what we can accomplish in one year, and yet underestimate what we can accomplish in ten.
Success, like life, is not a linear expression. Moreover, success does not equal happiness. Happiness = happiness. Your futures will be best served by understanding the nuance of this very important distinction.
The satisfaction you derive in your careers and in your lives will come down to two critical relationships: the one you have with your art, and the ones you have with the people closest to you. The easiest and hardest thing to be in this world is yourself.
In whatever hospital or clinic you end up at, I don't want to hear you complain about wishing you were somewhere else. I want you to bring coffee to the receptionists and the assistants. Learn their names and the names of their children. Ask about their dreams.
Being a leader is not about achieving your dreams. It's about helping others achieve theirs.
And no matter where you do your residency, or in what specialty, or in what state or province — if your mind is led by your heart, I promise you, you will end up in the place of your dreams.
Thank you.
— Dr. Steve Rallis DC, ND. June 1, 2024 — Fox Theater, Atlanta, GA.
