Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

Lately, I have had few but great troubles.
They set me back and make me survive.
But instead of telling my troubles (for fear of losing my audience),
I will mention some small recurring theme that follows them.

In the last month I have repeatedly opened a book of poetry.
William Stafford's "An Oregon Message".
Whenever I would open the book, it would be at random,
in hopes that perhaps it would give me insight to my life at the moment.
(To give an idea, I maybe have opened the book at random 30 times or so).
More often than not, I feel that it does give me some clue to my life at hand.

Now in my past two (rather large) troubles that I've faced, I decided to open William Stafford to see if he can help me in anyway (at least a change of perspective). At those two times it keeps opening to the same poem (these are the only two times that I have opened the book to this).

It goes like this...

ULTIMATE PROBLEMS

In the Aztec design God crowds
into the little pea that is rolling
out of the picture.
All the rest extends bleaker
because God has gone away.

In the white man design, though,
no pea is there.
God is everywhere,
but hard to see.
The Aztecs frown at this.

How do you know he is everywhere?
And how did he get out of the pea?

NOW!
I keep having the same thoughts of the poem rehearsed to myself, and it's getting me nowhere.
I feel that there might be something really really really significant in it all.

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