Ten Toes Down: Alumni Profile on Abigail Harmon

In John Milton’s Paradise Lost, he describes the world before the fall through monistic theory, arguing that God and all his creations are one and the same. This notion can be found in a particularly peculiar scene where Adam has the angel Raphael over for lunch. In this, we better understand Adam’s character, what he believes his place in the world is, and the reality of his place. In two instances, Adam mentions to Raphael that his “lowly” home and “food not of angels” must not compare to what they eat in Heaven, continually undermining and belittling his offerings and experience compared to the angels. To which Raphael replies with a beautifully encrypted metaphor:

Paradise Lost Book V, lines 469-490

In this excerpt, Raphael uses the example of a flower to help Adam better understand his relationship with God. He explains that everything God has created is a part of him, just with “various degrees” of his spirit. He goes even further to say that those who are “nearer to him placed” or “nearer tending” are those who are more spiritous and, therefore, more pure. This insinuates that Adam has the ability to “tend nearer” to God. Although Adam is more body than spirit compared to God and his angels, the more Adam connects to his spirit, the closer he will be to God and, ultimately, the purer he will become.

This notion is extremely similar to an important concept that drives my life and is something I have been taught throughout it: spiritual alignment.

“Spiritual alignment is the process of aligning your thoughts, words, and actions with your highest truth.”

Similarly, the deep inspiration derived from Milton’s works and following the inward contemplation of alignment is what got Abigail Harmon, an English major alum from the College of Charleston, to where she is today.

After graduating from CofC in 2011, Abigail went straight to graduate school at Regent College in Vancouver, where she studied Theology. Her father, being a theologian himself, is one of the things that propelled her to choose this path. After graduating, she took some time away from school to really figure out how she wanted to use her degrees in her professional life.

It was during this time that Abigail really began to ask important questions about herself. What was she drawn to? What was she inspired by? In what moments did she feel most like herself? In this recollection, she realized she wanted to return to school to get her counseling degree and study therapy. It seemed to her that the common theme strung throughout her passions, her time being an English major at CofC, her graduate studies in theology, and her new mission of becoming a therapist had one important piece connecting them all: a deep love and appreciation for humanity.

Abigail realized she was drawn to understanding how people organized themselves and behaved societally throughout history and found that she cared deeply for people’s individual stories and backgrounds. In making the decision on where to go next, she states she paid close attention to “the moments in [her] life when she felt most like Abigail, the moments that made [her] feel completely centered.” In this reflection of herself and what purpose seemed to align with her the most, she asked:

“When do I feel like I have ten toes on the floor? In what moments do I feel completely in my body? When I’m present and when I feel alive…and it was when I was listening to someone.”

It was then that her next step felt clear. During the 2020 pandemic, Abigail got another master’s degree in mental health counseling at Walden University. Now, with her English degree and her master’s in theology and counseling, she currently has a private and group counseling practice and also does ghostwriting on the side. In her private practice, she focuses on helping people who have religious trauma, climate anxiety/depression, and those in the LGBTQ community. As a deep thinker and feeler herself, through her practice, she creates a safe and understanding space for those who feel easily misunderstood by the grandness of their emotions. As a therapist, she is dedicated to helping people be their “open, easy, wise, quirky, kiss-ass” selves, that is their natural state of being.

When asked if she had any regrets throughout her professional career, she took a second to wonder. After a couple moments of silence, she was surprised by her own answer: No. Everything she did, everything she learned, and everything she experienced genuinely helped her not only become the person she is but also the professional person she is today. She explains:

“My robust background in theological studies allowed me to adapt to any theological belief system that walks in the room. I can adapt and understand all the nuances of their different belief systems, specifically within Christianity but also just in world religions in general. And I just can’t overstate how well literature has prepared me for being a therapist. I’m so, so much more able to not only have the vocabulary to help people, but a lot of times, people just need the right language and being able to supply that for somebody who’s searching for the right word or can’t identify how they feel, I mean, it is like a weight comes off their shoulders. So simplifying language, having the vocabulary to articulate feelings, and being a keen listener. That’s what you’re doing when you’re reading and writing. You’re paying attention.” 

In a passage from Ramsey and Grobman’s Major Decisions: College, Career, and the Case for the Humanities,” in their chapter called “Beyond Jobs and Careers: The Enduring Value of the Humanities,” the authors dive into the significance of an English degree in contributing to the collective welfare. They explain that pursuits in intellectual, artistic, and moral avenues possess a unique inherent value. These endeavors not only enhance people’s personal lives but enrich the lives of those around you, as seen through Abigail’s story and private practice.

When Abigail reflected back on her time at CofC, there was one class in particular that changed the trajectory of her life: ENGL 306 John Milton.

Yes, studying Milton’s works and writings was a deeply inspiring feat, but what made this class truly special was its professor, William Russell. Not only did he teach this class with such poised enthusiasm, but the way he listened to his students left lasting effects on Abigail.

The deep care and attention to detail Professor Russell has with everything he does distills a sense of belonging and inherent support for his students. For Abigail, being in his class helped her trust that she did, in fact, have a lot to contribute. This class taught her that she had important opinions and things to say and that they were worth sharing with the world. As she learned more from Professor Russell, she began to understand herself better and pay attention to the moments when she felt most aligned within herself.

“He really saw me as a student, not just as a student, but just for who I am.”

Professor Russell’s centered presence in the room, his bright enthusiasm, his heartfelt understanding, and his open-minded attention to each student were a source of inspiration for Abigail. She, too, wanted to hold this space for people.

“I remember wanting to be more like him, so here I am.”

An Interview of Unreasonable Conversation with Mary Alice Miller

 In his book “What Color is Your Parachute,” Richard N. Bolles writes that “storytelling is one of the most powerful techniques you can use in a job interview. Stories are memorable and illuminating…think about stories that illustrate [your] skills, knowledge, and personality traits.” This mirrors advice College of Charleston alumna Mary Alice Miller often gives to clients of her storytelling advisory—thought-leaders, artists, entertainers, politicians, and more who solicit her for collaborations on stage and screen, in print, online, and elsewhere. 

“A great story opens up worlds previously unknown even to ourselves,” Miller says from Costa Rica, where she has just worked with a client, the renowned psychotherapist, Esther Perel, on an immersive retreat and the content for Perel’s upcoming live tour. Miller’s next stop is Los Angeles for “A Day of Unreasonable Conversation,” a social impact conference which demonstrates dialogue on the most pressing issues of our time. The invitation-only audience consists of 500 top Hollywood screenwriters, showrunners, and network executives. Miller is the executive director of editorial and programming for the whole event.

Miller entered the College of Charleston in 2008 during America’s worst financial crisis. Against well-meaning advice, she double-majored in English and Fine Arts with three concentrations. She chose extracurriculars that didn’t obviously translate to job prospects but deepened her storytelling skills. She hosted a radio show, became president of the English Club, “Literati,” and worked as a campus tour guide. 

Storytelling is an influential skill that many humanities majors have, but as one approaches graduation, the prevailing story we tell ourselves is often one of distress. It can even feel like lying. This is how Miller felt while preparing her commencement speech to the 2012 class. “It was really intense having to hold two truths with equanimity; I’m so proud to be in this position but I also feel unqualified to be telling anyone what to do or how to be right now,” she said.

Filled with doubt, fear, and anticipatory grief, she turned to the English Department for support. Two professors gave feedback on her drafts. Fellow English club members helped her rehearse. “In the afternoon ceremony, the English Department was seated right by me at the podium. So much of being able to give that speech had to do with their support.”

Fresh-faced out of college, Miller began working at Condé Nast for Vanity Fair. “People ask if my job was like ‘The Devil Wears Prada.’ Sometimes it was.” Miller worked on long-form investigative stories, art and design features, cultural and political op-eds, books, conference programming, and special projects such as documentaries and art exhibitions. “I worked there for nearly a decade and received a phenomenal education,” she says, not regretting the decision to forego journalism school. “Magazines are a hard business, even more so now, but I will always love them and the people who make them,” she says.

“The media industry has been undergoing massive transformation and there is no journalist who hasn’t experienced trauma associated with that,” says Miller. “I’m sure that makes it really hard for aspiring journalists. The path has changed but that’s not inherently a bad thing.” Starting in 2018, Miller witnessed six rounds of company-wide layoffs at Condé Nast. “I saw some of the greatest American magazine editors in every department get told to empty their offices by 5 pm; it was brutal,” she says. “I got the call two months into the pandemic, in lockdown, surrounded by death and sirens. It was one of the worst moments of my life.” 

The pandemic caused devastating effects on Miller, including the loss of her home. “The security of corporate publishing had been an illusion for a while, but I was forced to wake up to it. And in this waking life, I felt a new and unprecedented autonomy and hope.” She began publishing articles in WIRED and New York Magazine, and could finally say yes to people who reached out asking if she was available to edit their book or produce a podcast together. Some were people she had already worked with, such as the photographer Mark Seliger, with whom she has written two books, a short film, and commercial work. Others were “professional blind dates” set up by friends.

George Anders talks a lot about the power of networking especially within your alumni community in “You Can Do Anything.” “Your greatest allies: thousands of alumni from your college understand what little-known fields are booming, who is hiring, where you can get an interview, and how to get a job” (203). Miller hopes aspiring storytellers who are about to become fellow CofC alumni know they are welcome in her network.

Many people assume that there are limited job opportunities for someone who has a degree in English, or the opportunities are lackluster, but Miller proves this wrong. “I fell ass-backwards into entrepreneurship, much like my parents, who warned me that starting your own business is not an easier path, but it is so worth it.”

Graduating means moving into a cloud of uncertainty. For storytellers, the challenges in modern media–including the impact of artificial intelligence–are enough to make English majors wonder if they chose the right field of study. Whether your fears are technological-based or rooted in insecurity, Miller argues that your abilities can work for you. “A.I. is fantastic for so many things, including quickly gathering information and arranging it in legible sentences, and it is only going to get better. But it is not you. Even trained on your writing, you are the writer. It’s good to cultivate confidence around your style, about the way you talk, about how you create. People need storytellers, every industry needs storytellers, humanity needs storytellers,” she says, driving home that integrity, quality, curiosity, and confidence in your work are your greatest assets. 

The graduating class of 2024 should find solace in Miller’s experiences; through uncontrollable circumstances, Miller has made a rockstar life for herself. “Since many of the traditional frameworks have changed so drastically, you may be asking yourself what you’re supposed to do with all these skills,” she says. “Your skills as an English major are applicable to so many industries. Sometimes it just looks like making your own path.”