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—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . and one fine morning—

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

In trying to realize the American dream and improve our lives, we strive to propel ourselves ahead of time to reach closer to the ideal future that we seek. On the other hand, we cannot part entirely with the past, either: the things we do, the way we think, and the goals we dream of are all bound by our past experiences, and, no mater how hard we strive to become the person that we wish to be, it is impossible to get rid of our past identities or who we really are. The harder we try to reach that goal and gain happiness, the goal moves farther and farther away, and true happiness cannot be attained. In our lifelong, vain efforts to control the passage of time to grasp the future or forever remain in the happy memories of the past, we are constantly struck with the impossibility of mankind and struggle in the reality which the haunting, self-created image of the ideal forbids us to find happiness in.

Here’s a poem I found by Mary Oliver called “In Blackwater Woods”. I thought it related to the characters in The Great Gatsby, especially to Jay Gatsby: In Blackwater Woods