I read The Great Gatsby back in high school, so like
14 3 years ago. It might be time for a re-read but I’m not writing this to talk about Jay, Nick, the green light and Daisy.
Last summer I got out of the truck to cut a small parkette somewhere in Etobicoke. I don’t remember the day, I don’t remember the time, I don’t remember the month, blah, blah, blah. What I do remember is getting out of the truck and seeing a small piece of paper lying forlornly in the grass. I’m someone who is always looking for inspiration from anywhere but at this moment I just figured I should pick up the piece of paper so as to not slice it into a thousand shards with the blades of my riding mower.
So I picked it up and took a look at it and it was the last page of the novel. Hmmm, I thought, let’s give it a quick read before I toss it in the back of the truck. So I did and even if I hadn’t read the novel years previous I still would’ve found it inspiring.
The excerpt (it’s copyrighted, so if you would like to sue me for posting it here, please kindly ask me to take it down before filing your papers and I will gladly do so):
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further…And one fine morning -”
There’s another sentence after this excerpt but it was those words that made me smile and think about my life and my past and my future and how I/we need to keep the dream – whatever it may be for each of us personally – alive and continue to reach for and run towards it.
Also, it made me think that even though I hadn’t just read the entire book, this one little snippet was enough to make me contemplate it, whatever it may be. If you think about it, all of our lives are made up of moments or snippets, similar to this excerpt from this book. Each one, while it may seem insignificant, impacts the others that will come after. This isn’t intended to be some sort of lesson or discussion of the butterfly effect or fate or something, but even in our art this matters. One sentence leads to the next or one line of music carries us through to the end of the song, but they are also independent and ultimately and hopefully they are equally as inspiring or filled with as much meaning as the greater whole to which they belong.
Anyway, I guess it’s time to read The Great Gatsby.