cleoashbee

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That’s why we stay stuck—because we know that movement, any movement, sets something in motion we can’t take back. A new path. A new unknown. And it frightens us. So we anchor ourselves in what’s familiar, even if it no longer fits. We convince ourselves it’s safer not to choose than to choose wrong. We rehearse the risk until we talk ourselves out of the leap. But safety is not the same as living. And nothing real ever begins without a disruption. - Cleo Ashbee - Neo-Humanism Manifesto 2025

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“Your naked body should only belong to those who fall in love with your naked soul.”

— Charlie Chaplin in a letter to his daughter, Geraldine

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Why Ed Chigliak is a Pisces

A Dreamer’s Tale in Northern Exposure

If you’ve ever watched Northern Exposure (and I really hope you have), then you know it’s not your average small-town drama. It’s a show that tugs at the fringes of surrealism, dipping a toe into the mystical, often with a wink and a shrug. Nowhere is that more evident than in Ed Chigliak. Ed, that odd, earnest, soft-spoken orphan who drifts through Cicely, Alaska, with an emotional compass that seems just slightly off from everyone else’s, is, in fact, the perfect Pisces. He’s not just a Pisces in theory; he’s the archetypal embodiment of that zodiac sign—every dreamy, empathetic, spiritual, and elusive characteristic in full bloom.

Let’s talk about why. Pisces is a sign known for its rich inner world, its ability to drift into fantasy as easily as breathing. Ed, with his endless love for movies, is constantly retreating into that fantasy. He isn’t just a fan of movies—he sees them as the guiding star of his life, the structure by which he interprets reality. He wants to be a filmmaker, but not in a goal-driven, Capricorn way. Ed doesn’t care about the industry grind; he’s all about the magic, the escapism, the way film lifts people out of the mundane.

In the episode "A Wing and a Prayer", Ed’s fixation on becoming a filmmaker showcases this Piscean quality in its purest form. His idolization of Woody Allen, Francis Ford Coppola, and the art of directing isn’t so much about achievement as it is about creating alternate worlds. "Movies help people escape reality for a while. That’s what I want to do," he says, perfectly capturing the Piscean impulse to build safe, imaginative sanctuaries—whether for themselves or others.

Ed’s relationship to movies isn’t just a hobby; it’s his lifeline, his emotional outlet. When life gets overwhelming, he immerses himself in film, showing a deeply Piscean need for escape.

Pisces feel deeply. They absorb the emotions around them like a sponge, often without knowing where their own feelings end and others’ begin. Ed exemplifies this in how he interacts with the people of Cicely. He’s always trying to help, always tuned into the undercurrents of what others are feeling. Even when his own understanding of the world seems limited, Ed intuitively grasps the needs of others.

In "Jules et Joel", when Joel’s more reckless twin shows up and starts causing tension, Ed immediately senses Joel’s emotional discomfort. He doesn’t have to be told; he just knows, and in typical Ed fashion, offers his quiet support. It’s a hallmark of Pisces to read emotional situations without needing explicit clues. Ed's instinctive desire to help others, even if he doesn’t always know how, fits that deeply empathetic, almost psychic nature of Pisces.

Ed’s Connection to the Beyond

Now, here’s where Ed really shows his Pisces stripes. Pisces is often described as the most spiritual sign of the zodiac, and Ed has an uncanny connection to the mystical. His Native Alaskan heritage introduces him to animal spirits and vision quests, but it’s more than just cultural connection—Ed feels the spiritual realm. It’s a natural part of his existence.

One standout moment of this mystical connection is in "The Gift of the Maggie", where Ed encounters a White Owl. For most people, an owl is just an owl, but for Ed, it’s a symbol, a guide, something that transcends the physical and offers wisdom. This effortless acceptance of the spiritual—where others might question or rationalize—is a hallmark of Pisces. Ed doesn’t just believe in the mystical; he embodies it. It’s not about having answers, it’s about feeling your way through the unknown.

Pisces are notorious for their escapism, sometimes retreating into fantasy or isolation to protect themselves from the harsh realities of the world. Ed exemplifies this with his frequent daydreams about cinema and his love for solitude. He finds peace in quiet moments, where he can tune out the noise and contemplate life in his own Piscean way.

In "Animals R Us", when Ed is faced with the task of saving a cow, he’s filled with doubt and anxiety. Rather than confront the situation head-on, he retreats into his imagination, envisioning heroic moments from movies to guide him. This is textbook Pisces—avoiding reality by escaping into a fantasy world where they can regain control, if only for a moment.

Ed’s sensitivity is his strength, but also his Achilles heel. Like many Pisces, when life gets overwhelming, he doesn’t always confront it. Instead, he drifts away, either into a cinematic daydream or into the comforting presence of the natural world around him. It’s not avoidance; it’s self-preservation, another classic Piscean move.

Ed is a man of few words, but when he speaks, it often carries a depth that belies his seemingly simple exterior. Consider this line from Ed in "The Quest": "I’ve been thinking about the future. Not my future, the future future. The big one." This is Piscean thinking at its finest. Ed isn’t worried about his personal life trajectory—he’s contemplating the grand arc of existence. It’s this kind of abstract, spiritual musing that Pisces are known for, and Ed embodies it fully.

Why Ed is More Pisces Than Any Other Sign

Ed is a Pisces to his core. His need for emotional escape, his sensitivity to the people around him, his profound connection to the mystical, and his love of fantasy over the gritty details of life are all Pisces hallmarks. The truth is, Ed’s character doesn’t just align with Pisces; he exemplifies the sign. His every action, from the way he drifts into conversations about film to his serene acceptance of the spiritual, radiates Pisces energy. He’s the dreamer, the mystic, the empathetic soul who is deeply in tune with the hidden layers of life.

In Northern Exposure, Ed Chigliak is more than just the lovable, oddball side character—he’s the emotional and spiritual undercurrent of the show. His quiet, introspective nature, his ability to slip between reality and fantasy, and his deep, soulful empathy make him a Pisces through and through. While everyone else in Cicely is grappling with their problems in their own unique ways, Ed simply dreams his way through life, feeling more than thinking, escaping when necessary, and always finding meaning in the most unexpected places.

In Ed’s world, life isn’t about the daily grind; it’s about the dream—the spiritual, emotional, imaginative journey that connects us all. And in that sense, there’s no character more Piscean than Ed Chigliak.

Joel: That, that's the movies Ed; try reality. Ed: No, thanks.

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This

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Maria Sabina Oracle card by Cleo Ashbee

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the silence after heartbreak. ugh.

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Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West

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Quiet Heartbreak

There’s a difference between learning to be at peace with the timing of things and pretending you never cared how long it would take—as long as they stayed near.

You learn to whisper because you were once told your love was too loud.

You try to be less. hoping—just hoping— that if you carry yourself like you need nothing, they’ll finally give you something.

But that is not surrender. That is negotiation in disguise. That is becoming a version of yourself you think they’ll find easier to carry.

And here’s where it gets cruel—they reject you with such gentleness. Such spiritual finesse. They mask the rejection as a pause button.

They’ll say, I love you, but it’s just the timing, or I wish I could give you what you deserve, and they say it with soft eyes and sincerity that makes you blame yourself for even asking for their love.

So you set down your wants. Not just the pace, but the dreams themselves.

You say, I don’t need a relationship. I don’t need the house together, the morning coffee rituals, the devotion, the Key West proposal.

You call this letting go. You call this healing. And maybe, in pieces, it is. But be careful. Because you can start performing peace as a way of staying close.

You start showing off how unattached you are, not because it’s true, but because you hope they’ll look over and find you easier now.

Look at me, you think.

Look how light I’ve become.

Look how little I ask for.

Look how beautiful I am now that I don’t want too much.

But here’s the truth: you still want. And there is no shame in that. There is no shame in saying, I want love that meets me where I am.

Not faster. Not slower. Not someday. But here. Now. In this lifetime.

You do not need to exile your longing to be worthy. You do not need to un-want your dreams to be lovable.

The goal is not to want less. The goal is to want without apology.

To say, This is what I hope for, and know that if someone walks away,it’s not because you were too much—but because they were never meant to meet you in the place you’ve been building.

So yes, release attachment. Yes, stop gripping people with the hope that they’ll save you. Yes, learn to be still.

But do not turn your softness into performance. Do not make peace your bait. And do not let your becoming be another path to being picked.

You are not someone’s maybe.

You are not an almost.

You are not an if only I were less…

You are worthy as is.

Even in your wanting.

Especially in your wanting.

Cleo Ashbee (April 2022)

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Rally 'round the family

Rage Against the Machine.

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Joy Sullivan, from Instructions for Traveling West: Poems; “Instructions for Traveling West”

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"The great irony of contemporary life is that everything’s about communication and almost none of it involves actually communicating. It’s like we’re living in a parody of connection, where what matters is the appearance of having said something, not the fact of anyone truly hearing it."

cleo ashbee/ The Neo-humanism Manifesto 2025

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“I was looked at, but I wasn’t seen.”

-Albert Camus, “The Misunderstanding.”

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So yeah, I’m probably way too into nostalgia—like, to a fault, for sure. I think I tend to dig my nails into people, to ideas, to stuff. And it's not just stuff but the emotional architecture of it. Like, I want people to come into my house, look at my notes saved since High School, my record collection, my grandma's quilt on the bed, and see not just the objects, but me—like, “Can you see what it’s like being me?”

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John Cage