Ever tried therapy tools in a strategy meeting? Game changer.

DBT offers 3 questions I use constantly:
Is it valid? (hint: the answer is ALWAYS yes.)
Does it fit the facts?
Is it effective?

They help families separate feelings from facts and align around what really matters. No judgment, just clarity.

When emotions flare, IFS helps decode the “why.”

We all have parts—protectors that show up when we feel unsafe.
Understanding them builds empathy: “Oh, you’re not attacking—you’re protecting.”

Mindfulness ≠ meditation. It’s noticing.

In facilitation, I help people tune into body cues—tight shoulders, racing heart, clenched jaw. These whispers reveal truths words miss.

Staying present gives families more control, less reactivity, and a surprising sense of calm.

Bonus: the next-gen participants often lead here—it’s a quiet power shift that builds confidence.

Yes, we play. Games, movement, creative prompts—intentional fun that unlocks collaboration.

Play activates new thinking, breaks tension, and reminds families they’re on the same team. No cheesy icebreakers—just smart design that gets people unstuck.

Serious work doesn’t have to feel heavy.

I love convenings that feel different, literally. I use scent, taste, touch, sound, and sight to set tone and energy:

🌿 Aromas that calm or energize
🍪 Comfort snacks + curious flavors
🧶 Tactile objects to ground
🎶 Music as people arrive
👗 Intentional visuals (even my outfit!)

The senses speak first. I help them say “You’re safe. You belong. Let’s talk.”

Emotional safety isn’t fluff—it’s ROI.

When people feel safe, they speak honestly, decide faster, and stay aligned longer. When they don’t, even the smartest strategy stalls.

Safety is the precondition for innovation, succession, and sustained impact.

Play isn’t frivolous—it’s functional. It resets the nervous system, lowers defenses, and opens creativity. When tension spikes, a shared laugh can reroute the whole room.

The most productive family sessions I’ve led often include laughter—it’s the sound of new patterns forming.

Our bodies register emotion before our brains make sense of it.
Tight chest? Shallow breath? That’s data. Somatic awareness helps families catch tension before it turns toxic. A single breath can change a decision.

You can win the argument and still lose the mission.

Being “right” feels good—but it rarely moves a system forward.DBT calls it “effectiveness”: does this behavior get you what you truly want? Reframing conflict around shared outcomes replaces righteousness with results.

Families often over-invest in technical fixes—trusts, bylaws, legal structures—while neglecting the emotional infrastructure those tools require.

Emotional misalignment is a governance failure, too.
If resentment or distrust lives under the surface, no document can hold it.

The real strategy is inner work: aligning hearts before signing papers.

Group sessions are efficient for logistics, lethal for vulnerability. Healing begins where safety is strongest: one-on-one.

Curiosity breeds psychological safety. Safety invites candor. Candor accelerates alignment. Families that practice inquiry move faster precisely because they pause first. Legacy conversations aren’t tests to pass; they’re mysteries to explore. Trade judgment for genuine questions, and watch resistance dissolve into discovery.

We can compromise on what we do. But challenge why we do it, and identity feels on trial. Philanthropy magnifies the stakes because money expresses belief. A grant is a sermon in spreadsheet form. Reject someone’s priority, and they hear, You’re wrong about the world.

Families navigating philanthropy carry decades of memory; emotions ignite fast. But feelings, while always valid, aren’t always accurate. Enter a quiet discipline borrowed from Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT)—emotional accuracy.

When families gather around the table to discuss giving, the conversation often holds both promise and tension. Each generation brings its own values, lived experiences, and ideas of what “impact” should look like. In wealthy families, where philanthropic capital is significant, these differences can either fracture relationships or unlock extraordinary possibility.

Picture this: a family in a raft, heading down a river.
The water is moving fast — swirling currents, hidden rocks, a few unexpected drops.
One person is gripping the paddle, trying to steer, shouting directions.
Everyone else is clutching the sides, hoping for the best.

That, right there, is how many families approach shared wealth and philanthropy.

Over the next twenty years, roughly $80 trillion will move between generations. Advisors focus on estate plans, investment strategies, and governance—vital structural elements. But they’re only as stable as the relational infrastructure beneath them.

Money is math; trust is engineering. You can have flawless blueprints and still end up with cracks if the soil shifts underneath.