Long ago my keen paralegal suggested I host a webinar series by that title, as she’d observed how divorcing people were often shocked to learn about the rights and responsibilities they’d taken on when they said “I do.”

Of course, it’s more hopeful (and a lot more fun) to discuss floral arrangements, table seating, and dance bands when planning a wedding than it is to hash out health care proxies, powers of attorney, wills, trusts and divorce statutes.

As a family law attorney, I think about both the beauty and promise of love in the day, but also the legal agreements that necessarily come along with the vows. As a wedding guest, I try to leave my family law attorney mind at home.  That being said, this summer I attended a wedding where the groom’s parents had recently divorced.

I know how difficult it can be for divorced parents to work as a team at their child’s wedding. But at this wedding, I was profoundly impressed by the groom’s parents’ ability to unite on his behalf.  Knowing the emotional journey the couple had traveled, their behavior that day was a manifestation of their combined abilities to put their son’s feelings ahead of their own. It took wisdom, grace, and enormous fortitude to perform as they did. And it allowed their son and his bride to be celebrated without unwelcome drama.

Just as the bride’s parents spoke and toasted together, the groom’s parents did as well. They were elegant and cohesive in their thoughts and wishes. These parents presented a corollary to  my paralegal’s idea. Their class title would be: “So… you just got divorced, and your child’s getting married….”

Having had a ringside seat to many divorced and divorcing parents’ arguments about their children’s weddings, it was refreshing to be a student in a master class that celebrated great and expansive love with a backdrop of beautiful flowers, and extraordinary music.. By amplifying what I was privileged to bear witness to that night, I hope the ripple effect of one son’s parents’ selfless love can be a model of grace and selfless care that spreads far and wide.

Divorce coaches listen and share experiences; Consilium Consultants deliver guidance

So what exactly is it that Consilium Consultants do?

• As seasoned attorneys, they explain the legal landscape and help individuals establish and set realistic priorities and goals before, during and after divorce, and
• they conduct a pre-divorce financial review, create a roadmap for the future, and provide emotional support and expansive resources.

Because Consilium Consultants understand the complexity of divorce, individuals gain confidence and the emotional bandwidth they need to make clear and considered decisions throughout the process. And further, Consilium Consultants help people create a roadmap not only through the divorce, but for the many years when the divorce case itself is in the rearview mirror.

Divorce coaching is a field without regulation or specific credentialing requirements, resulting in a great range of training and skills among coaches, and unclear limits on that role. Consilium Consultants are regulated and accountable, as all are highly seasoned attorneys licensed in the states where they practice law. Consilium Consultants are trained and certified by Consilium Institute’s co-founders, Atty. Heidi Webb, and Judge Julie Field (ret.). Accordingly, Consilium Consultants are accountable to the standards of their state’s licensure Board and to Consilium Institute’s principles and ethics.

Although divorce coaches can offer a compassionate ear and their own personal experiences, a Consilium Consultant is a unique and specialized role only filled by a seasoned attorney, someone who has practiced family law for many years and so has the experience, independence, and insights to guide clients to the right attorney and other supportive professionals for the situation, and the expertise to guide the client’s attorneys and other allied professionals to take an expansive view. The Consultant does not act as the attorney in court but understands and keeps the perspective of the individual – and family’s — long-term needs.

A Consilium Consultant distills the relevant facts of an individual’s situation in the context of the law. They work directly with the individual to help them to set their goals and priorities in ways that realistically get divorcing individuals to their desired destinations. They have a deep understanding of relevant legal issues. Consultants create a detailed Consilium Synopsis – a proprietary tool that specifies the narrative arc of someone’s marriage and its dissolution. That document guides the client, and the client’s lawyer, to better long-term solutions.

The Consultant uses their wisdom, experience, and Consilium Mastery Training to contextualize relevant  research and information in light of the law. Consultants recommend vetted attorneys and other professionals for an individual. Consultants expertly prepare them for their interviews with attorneys. Once the client has hired their divorce attorney, the Consultant can continue to work collaboratively with both client and attorney on goals and strategy. Consultants maintain attorney/client privilege, just as the attorney who represents the client in court.

 Some of the key distinctions that set Consilium Consultants apart are:

• being keenly aware of the legal goals and strategies of the attorney, but maintaining enough distance to envision alternative pathways;
• being cognizant of their clients’ legal and personal goals;
• crafting realistic visions of both the legal aspects of a client’s divorce and their personal paths of growth;
• maintaining adequate distance to see potential barriers and obstacles;
• working in tandem with attorneys and allied professionals (especially vetted financial advisors and mental health therapists) to help people attain the legal, financial, familial, and emotional outcomes they want to achieve, and seamlessly integrate their individual visions of growth.

If you’re a seasoned family law attorney who would like to become a certified Consilium Consultant, reach out to learn more at: founders@consiliuminstitute.com, or through Calendly to arrange a zoom conversation with Heidi and Julie.

In All Kinds of Love, a call back to a post I first wrote in 2015, I revisit the four Greek words for love — agápe, éros, philía, and storgē — and reflect on how they express different forms of love between people and in community.

Storgē: the enduring, protective love a parent has for a child is a love that does not dissolve with divorce, even when a couple’s love for one another falters. For children, when their family restructures, their parents’ commitment and firm presence exemplifies their Storgē love.

On this Valentine’s Day, it is my hope that our language can become more expansive so that when parents talk to their children about divorce and restructuring their family, they have ready and adequate words to support and answer the fears many children express at that time.

#ValentinesDay#ConsiliumInsights #Parenting #ConsiliumInstitute #DivorceAndFamily #ConsiliumDivorce #AllKindsOfLove #FamilyLaw

In October of 2015, I wrote The Paradox of Power after I visited the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. There, I had been struck by the exhibits displaying the indifference of people in Nazi Germany who were not themselves persecuted by the regime. In my blogpost I questioned the easy route of inaction, and when inaction becomes complicity. At that time, I referenced how the Syrian government was mistreating its citizenry and wondered what action or inaction unaffected people would take to help provide protection and guardrails for people being abused.

Eleven years ago, I didn’t think or imagine I would be asking myself the same questions in my home of the United States of America. Tyranny in Minneapolis, in Los Angeles, in Chicago, in Maine – all places we live, love, vacation, and work were not my frame of reference for tyranny. Sadly, they are now.

Last week I was chilled hearing Lawrence O’Donnell interview Professor Timothy Snyder, author of the books On Tyranny and On Freedom. Professor Snyder’s words resonated as accurate and indisputable- that what it takes to build tyranny is the creation of open zones where the law doesn’t apply, such as in concentration camps, or borders. Stalin did it in the 1930’s in the Soviet Union, Hitler did it in Germany in 1938, and the U.S. administration is doing it now by making “the border” become the pretext to undo the law so that they can use it against everyone at all times. Our government is using ICE to get border enforcement everywhere, and to get Americans used to the idea that anywhere at any time can be a zone of exception.

By denying victims their humanity, such as Steven Miller calling the ICE-murdered Alex Preti a terrorist and an extremist, the administration is attempting to dehumanize protesters who are simply asserting their constitutional right to free speech. ICE agents are not “law enforcement”, they are terror enforcers. They are not seeking to enforce laws, and we cannot afford to look away, to lose our sight, our hearing, and our common sense. When we see masked men assaulting, battering and murdering people, we can’t allow those acts to be characterized as law enforcement.  

• Professor Snyder reminds us that tyrants take what is special and particular about us and turn us into enemies.
• He reminds us that writing the word “no” is an act of resistance. Saying “no” says “this is not normal” and that is an act of resistance.

But saying “no” is also saying “yes.”

• It’s saying yes to recognizing the values for which we stand, for which we will stand with other people, and for which we will take some kind of a risk.

Last week on Holocaust Remembrance Day I went to the art opening of Who Will Draw Our History? Women’s Graphic Narratives of the Holocaust, 1944-1949.   The incredibly moving exhibit, comprised of drawings by women artists in or near the sites of Nazi persecution of Jews and non-Jews, is curated from museums around the world, and drawings only recently found in people’s homes, some stored unceremoniously under beds. The artists reveal stories of unspeakable humiliation and torture, physical and sexual abuse, suffering in the death camps, and the loss of families and loved ones.

More than once I walked by drawings and overheard “this looks like Minneapolis”.

The searing pain of their drawn indictment was gut wrenching.

Eleven years ago I didn’t think or imagine that in 2026 I’d hear comparisons drawn between Nazi Germany and the United States of America. I didn’t think current day Germany would be providing the U.S. with a moral compass.

Say “Yes” to saying “No.”  Yes to recognizing the values for which we stand. Yes for standing with other people. And yes to taking some kind of risk.

Arriving at the Schiphol airport in Amsterdam we saw a sign:  Welcome to the Netherlands. We have more bicycles than people. Watch out when you hear ‘tring, tring’. 

Aside from possible accidents, what might the impact of all those bikes be? Turns out it’s positive: human contact with the natural world, and continual engagement between people. Not cars, not buses, not subways, not trains, but rather bikes and boats are the dominant modes of transportation. Unlike vehicles that create walls around people, bikes and boats do not.

Adding to the constant human interactions is the charm of the canals: the open, constant, and immediate access to water and its healing and restorative powers.  And during the winter months, the canals come alive with illuminated art which we toured at night on a canal boat while sipping cocktails- a great way to view the city and the art!

And the art…. So much great art!

Works of Van Gogh, Vermeer, and Rembrandt were all within walking distance of our hotel. Seeing Van Gogh’s Sunflowers and Vermeer’s Milkmaid were high points for me, but standing before Rembrandt’s Night Watch (currently under restoration), I was transported back to my 13 year-old self when I stood in front of the massive masterpiece with my father, who was absolutely enthralled. He carefully talked to me about the Dutch Masters, explained to me the painting’s storied history, and showed me where Rembrandt hid himself in the painting. It was perhaps the first time I remember seeing my father awestruck by art (he wasn’t easily awestruck), and I remember feeling like I was missing something.  The painting is grand and large (12 feet by 14 feet, and weighs about 740 pounds), but I didn’t feel moved in the way he seemed to be.  Now, seeing the painting as an adult, I understand more of the emotion it packs, and could better relate to perhaps what he’d felt then. 

The restoration of Night Watch is occurring in full view of the public, which seems fitting as to me Amsterdam felt like a “people first place”, one where accessibility and transparency seem inculcated into the culture.

Although I began this series with transportation systems as a backdrop for viewing different places, at the outset I didn’t have a strong sense as to how emblematic the systems themselves would be of their cultures.  However, now looking back it makes sense that they are. After all, how we move in the world is part of our everyday and an active way we express our values.

“The world is a book & those who do not travel read only one page”.

Seeing the world through different lenses opens our minds to new possibilities.

If you are wondering why our journeying took us to Dublin, Berlin, Leeds in the UK, and Amsterdam, let me explain the context. 

When we received an invitation to my grand-nephew’s bar mitzvah in Leeds, we decided to plan a trip around that occasion.  Having wanted to go to Berlin for quite some time, we thought we’d start there, but discovered there were no direct flights from Boston to Berlin. We’d long wanted to visit Dublin as well, and as there are direct flights from Boston to Dublin, we decided to go there first as we could then easily head to Berlin.  So we started in Dublin, moved on to Berlin, and next arrived in Leeds a few days before Joseph’s bar mitzvah. Amsterdam was a serendipitous stop on our way home because there was not a direct flight from Leeds to Boston.

In contrast to Dublin’s taxis and Berlin’s extensive trains, busses, and subways, Leeds was a city filled with Ubers. It’s not a small city; nor is it enormous, and we found ourselves within walking distance of much, and a short Uber ride away from much more. Unlike Dublin, where most of our taxi drivers told us they were native Dubliners, many of our drivers in Leeds told us they hailed from Pakistan and were driving Uber after having lost their jobs in tech.  The drivers we met were friendly, interested in talking about their families and US and European politics, and expressed gratitude they had a means to make an income.

Along with visiting with my niece and her family in Leeds, we learned that both Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth had studied art in Leeds, and that the Yorkshire Sculpture Park and its 500-acres of parklands were about a half an hour from the city. Among the Henry Moore sculptures and the works of other artists, the sculpture park houses Barbara Hepworth’s “The Family of Man,” a truly incredible undertaking.  It was amazing to be amidst her creations on that vast expanse of land.  Visiting the Henry Moore Institute and the Leeds City Museum were additional highlights. Adding to what unexpectedly had become our “art immersion trip,” we discovered that David Hockney is from Saltaire, about a half an hour from Leeds. When we learned that Salts, a former woolen manufacturing company run by Sir Titus Salt, had been turned into an art gallery which included formidable Hockney works, we were off to explore the gallery, and the town of Saltaire, which was built around the factory so that workers could enjoy a lifestyle supported by their work.

Perhaps because my sister married “a Brit” when I was a teenager and I’ve been to England many times, I don’t feel huge cultural differences when I go there. However, I do notice differences, not the least of which is the accent.  However, over the years I’ve spent the bulk of my UK time in London not Leeds. On this trip I noticed how different the Yorkshire accent is from the London accent.  But accents are not language barriers, and when differences do exist, communicating may be more effortful but it’s not an impediment. 

After a few days of art exploration, lovely dinners, and pub nights, the impetus for our travels, Joseph’s bar mitzvah, had arrived. He was poised, articulate, compassionate, and unusually self-aware, sensitive, and reflective. It was joyful to be able to celebrate him, although bittersweet as just over a year ago I was in London with my sister – his grandmother – during her final weeks. Now we felt her presence, and her thundering absence.  Love, loss, and pain are universal, no matter the dialect, the accent, or the language.

Arriving at the airport in Berlin, we immediately spotted a kiosk where we could purchase multi-day tickets to Berlin’s transportation system – its trains, subways, and buses.  If you know the board game, Ticket to Ride, it’s like that, but in real time. Immediately, it felt so different from Dublin. More organized, less personal. 

I needed to check myself: was this a cultural bias I was bringing to my experience or was this a legitimate observation on my part?

We bought our transport tickets and walked to the first train stop. No money changed hands on the train, or over the course of the next five days. Without any fuss we soon found ourselves at the Kurfürstendamm stop, about 500 feet from the entrance to our hotel. Once inside we were greeted with a glass of champagne and given a thoroughly efficient orientation to the city.

There was so much we wanted to see and learn about Berlin , the Museum Island complex and the Pergamon museum (home to the Pergamon Altar, a 371 foot long sculptural frieze depicting the struggle of the Olympian gods and the giants)– Checkpoint Charlie, the Stasi Museum (where the former headquarters of East Germany’s political system remains as a snapshot of that time), the Eastside Galleries (created when the wall came down in 1989, and which now endure with protected memorial status. It is the longest open-air gallery in the world). 

Pretty immediately we discovered that the Pergamon museum was closed for extensive renovation and not expected to reopen for 14 to 20 years(!). However, as a result of the huge demand to see the frieze, a temporary four-story building was built to house a 360° re-creation of the frieze and the city as it was in about 197-156 BCE when the frieze was created.  Being immersed in Pergamon thousands of years ago was mind-bending.

That was just the beginning of our time in Berlin. There was so much to still see! Checkpoint Charlie, the Brandenburg Gate, the Stasi Museum, the Holocaust Museum and Memorial, and the Eastside Galleries.  AND the Christmas markets were just opening, so we immersed ourselves in the foods, the music, and the revelry they offered!

Dublin, of course, has its own complicated religious and political history, but somehow the dominant feeling of that Irish city was optimistic and upbeat. In contrast, Berlin’s mood was more serious. We found people to be welcoming and engaging, but not jovial. There was beauty and amazing artifacts for sure, and the Christmas Markets were filled with lovely crafts, inspiring music, and food aplenty. But somehow the emotions seemed tied to objects and experiences, whereas in Dublin the experiences seemed to be created by people and from their emotions.

The stark architecture of East Berlin is a constant and dominant reminder of its history. At the nearby Brandenburg Gate, protesters expressed their dismay about current politics and autocracies.  And only feet away was the harsh and moving Holocaust Memorial containing nearly 5 acres of eerie concrete slabs, and an underground Museum dedicated to remembrance of the murdered Jews of Europe.  It was impossible to stand in that space and not see its congruity with our time, and with times not so recently passed.

As for cultural bias, having grown up with parents who had WWII firmly etched in their minds, I’m sure I brought bias and expectations with me to Germany. I also think I was able to see and hear the lessons learned and readily articulated by Berliners.  Appreciating the differences were important components of what I saw, felt, and came to understand. 

We spent some of our time in Dublin going to local pubs where traditional Irish music was on tap alongside the Guinness. There’s a joy, a lilt and a sense of fun that infuses the city and the music, and a friendliness that accompanies the pints. I found Dublin joyful and walkable. We walked miles going from the vast Long Hall at Trinity College and its gorgeous campus, where we saw the Book of Kells and amazing source books and original manuscripts held in storage (ranging from Shakespeare’s first folio of 1623 to Oscar Wilde’s personal letters to collections of children’s books, stained glass designs, Gulliver’s Travels, and the oldest map of Dublin dating to 1611) to Christ Church to Darkey Kelley’s, the bar that became our “go to” for a few nights in Dublin.

Although Amsterdam was the fourth stop on our journey, it wasn’t until we arrived there that I became conscious of how differently people moved around the cities we’d visited, and how much that movement made a difference in our experiences. In Dublin we walked and took old-school cabs (no Uber or Lyft here!). We were constantly interacting with people who were upbeat and welcoming. Taxi drivers told us their favorite bars, and at bars the patrons universally said “pull up a chair and join us.”  We didn’t see acrimony or angst, which isn’t to say that it doesn’t exist, but the general outlook we experienced was notably positive. There was a sense that although things weren’t easy financially, life was to be enjoyed.

What came through to me was what I’d felt growing up from my Irish friends — work hard and play hard. Laugh. Create. Make music. Write poetry.  Generate art. Drink Guinness. And then do it all over again.

While in Amsterdam, the dessert part of our trip, we passed by the sign in the window shown above “The world is a book & those who do not travel read only one page.”  Considering our previous couple of weeks’ journeys, that idea resonated with me.

Traveling alters our usual lens and gently insists that we see the world differently. 

This first  week of 2026 seems an opportune time to give context to my experience. I will use my observations about transportation in these very different cities as a jumping off point for reflections on how traveling expanded my world view.  Come, and journey with me daily this week! 

Hope is different from passive wishful thinking, which is one of the first thoughts raised in the book. And in analyzing that distinction, Dr. Goodall talks about action and engagement as being the differentiators.

• Hoping something will happen but doing nothing about it is wishful thinking.
• That is real hope’s imposter.

Our cumulative actions matter and Dr. Jane Goodall, almost 90 years young when she wrote this book, expressed her belief that the acts we take together can help to save and improve our world for future generations.

Our amazing human intellect, the resilience of nature, the power of young people, and the indomitable human spirit are what Dr. Goodall describes as her reasons for Hope. As I read this list, I was reminded of Anne Frank, who as a young teenager was hidden for years during the Nazi invasion, yet kept her own hope alive, demonstrating her indomitable human spirit and clear intellect, which led to her diary and legacy roadmap for our engagement with her thoughts decades after she was murdered.

As Consilium practitioners working to help families restructure, we’re privileged to share space with people during vulnerable, dark times of uncertainty, and are entrusted to take action and create engagement so that people and families can move forward with Hope. 

As we head together into 2026, we wish you light, solace, direction, and courage. 

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before beginning to improve the world! …

You can always, always give something, even if it is only kindness!”  – Anne Frank 

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash