Hearing Voices Worker Training – #1Accepting Voices – 27th March 2015


Hearing Voices Worker Training #Accepting Voices 27Mar2015Innovative unique training for those who work with people who hear voices Designed by people who hear voices and people who work with people who hear voices.

If, in your work, you encounter people who hear voices – and who might be struggling with the experience – then this workshop is designed for you. More than 200 workers from from more than 20 agencies across Ontario have now attended our foundational workshop for those who, in their work, encounter people who hear voices, see visions or have other experiences that can be difficult.

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take a minute – K’naan


k'naanAnd any man who knows a thing knows, he knows not a damn, damn thing at all

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And any man who knows a thing knows, he knows not a damn, damn thing at all
And every time I felt the hurt and I felt the givin’ gettin’ me up off the wall
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
How did Mandela get the will to surpass the everyday
When injustice had him caged and trapped in every way
How did Gandhi ever withstand the hunger strikes and all
Didn’t do it to gain power or money if I recall
It’s to give; I guess I’ll pass it on
Mother thinks it’ll lift the stress of Babylon
Mother knows, my mother she suffered blows
I don’t know how we survived such violent episodes
I was so worried, and hurt to see you bleed
But as soon as you came out the hospital you gave me sweets
Yeah, they try to take you from me
But you still only gave ‘em some prayers and sympathy
Dear mama, you helped me write this, by showing me to give is priceless
And any man who knows a thing knows, he knows not a damn, damn thing at all
And every time I felt the hurt and I felt the givin’ gettin’ me up off the wall
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
All I can say is the worst is over now
We can serve the hard times, divorce is over now
They try to keep us out, but they doors is open now
My nigga Akon is getting awards for covers now
This is K’naan, and still reppin’ the S
Comin’ out of Mogadishu and still draped in the mess
And no matter how we strong, homie
It ain’t easy coming out of where we from, homie
And that’s the reason why, I could never play for me
Tell ‘em the truth, is what my dead homies told me
Oh yeah, I take inspiration from the most heinous of situations
Creating medication out my own tribulations
Dear Africa, you helped me write this, by showing me to give is priceless
And any man who knows a thing knows, he knows not a damn, damn thing at all
And every time I felt the hurt and I felt the givin’ gettin’ me up off the wall
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
Nothing is perfect man, that’s what the world is
All I know is
I’m enjoying today
You know, ’cause it isn’t everybody that you get to give
And any man who knows a thing knows, he knows not a damn, damn thing at all
And every time I felt the hurt and I felt the givin’ gettin’ me up off the wall
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I’m just gonna take a minute and let it breeze

Songwriters
EATON, GERALD / WEST, BRIAN / WARSAME, KEINAN
Read more: K’naan – Take A Minute Lyrics | MetroLyrics

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the numbers game – Thievery Corporation


the numbers game
I’m talking people about the same old game
Their running them numbers and the winners never change
The dice is loaded, the deck is stacked

I’m talking people about the same old game
Their running them numbers and the winners never change
The dice is loaded, the deck is stacked
The game itself will hold you back

Check out your mind and don’t be blind
To the numbers game
What I say

Don’t be in the dark all by yourself
Don’t play the hand that the dealer has dealt
We’re cashing out ’cause it’s time to sell
Taking back the power, gonna share that wealth
Come on now

Check out your mind and don’t be blind
To the numbers game
What I say

I’m talking people about respect
Baby you can’t win when you place that bet, come on now
The dice is loaded, the deck is stacked
The game itself will surely hold you back

Check out your mind and don’t be blind
To the numbers game
Check out your mind and don’t be blind
To the numbers game

Let’s get hip on this
So you won’t slip on this
See you gotta get hip on this
So you won’t trip on this

To the numbers
To the numbers game

Check out your mind and don’t be blind
To the numbers game
Check out your mind and don’t be blind
To the numbers game

Songwriters
ROB GARZA, ERIC HILTON

 

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love unlimited – Fun Lovin Criminals


FLC love unlimitedBarry White, saved my life
And if Barry White, saved your life
Or got you back with your ex-wife
Sing Barry White, Barry White, it’s alright

Barry White, saved my life
And if Barry White, saved your life
Or got you back with your ex-wife
Sing Barry White, Barry White, it’s alright

Now I was watching Banachek
My mind’s eye right back when I was a seed
And learning ’bout life
At night they came together and gave me sight
He said it’s better doing this, than sucking on a pipe

Now when she came over, she brought the discus
On and on, she promised to kick this
E W F, stole my breath
When he finished, there was nothing left

Barry White, saved my life
And if Barry White, saved your life
Or got you back with your ex-wife
Sing Barry White, Barry White, it’s alright

Over and over, ’til it’s ready
Sing about it low and fat like J.P. Ghetti
We make it happen, ass slappin’
Sitting on the point to where you never catch us nappin’

CO efino, he got the money grips
No parking for Saturday night and the pips
The pips know the hymns, they singing along
Like knowing the verbs is gonna keep you from the twilight

Do a little like that
Barry White, Barry White
You know it’s alright

Barry White, saved my life
And if Barry White, saved your life
Or got you back with your ex-wife
Sing Barry White, Barry White, it’s alright

Barry White, saved my life
And if Barry White, saved your life
Or got you back with your ex-wife
Sing Barry White, Barry White, it’s alright

Songwriters
LEISER, BRIAN ANDREW / MORGAN, HUGH THOMAS

Read more: Fun Lovin Criminals – Love Unlimited Lyrics | MetroLyrics

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Die Lüge – DAF


bouncing babiesAlles ist Lüge

 

 

 

 

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little black submarines – The Black Keys


black keysOh can it be
The voices calling me
They get lost
And out of time

Little Black Submarines

Little black submarines
Operator please
Put me back on the line
Told my girl I’d be back
Operator please
This is wreckin’ my mind

Oh can it be
The voices calling me
They get lost
And out of time
I should’ve seen it glow
But everybody knows
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind

Pick you up, let you down
When I wanna go
To a place I can hide
You know me, I had plans
But they just disappeared
To the back of my mind

Oh can it be
The voices calling me
They get lost
And out of time
I should’ve seen a glow
But everybody knows
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind

Treasure maps, fallen trees
Operator please
Call me back when it’s time
Stolen friends and disease
Operator please
Patch me back to my mind

Oh can it be
The voices calling me
They get lost
And out of time
I should’ve seen a glow
But everybody knows
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind

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creep – radiohead


creepI want you to notice
When I’m not around
You’re so fuckin’ special
I wish I was special

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.

When you were here before
Couldn’t look you in the eye
You’re just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
And I wish I was special
You’re so fuckin’ special

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.

I don’t care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice
When I’m not around
You’re so fuckin’ special
I wish I was special

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.

She’s running out again,
She’s running out
She’s run run run run

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You’re so fuckin’ special
I wish I was special

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.
I don’t belong here.
Songwriters: HAMMOND, ALBERT/HAZLEWOOD, MIKE/YORKE, THOMAS EDWARD

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transfatty acid – Lamb


transfatty acidNo one said it would be easy
Did anyone tell you the road
Would be straight and long
Relax your mind and give it all to me

 

No one said it would be easy
Did anyone tell you the road
Would be straight and long
Relax your mind and give it all to me

‘Coz you know and I know
Our love is strong enough
To weather the rain
To weather the snow
To weather the storm

To weather the rain
To weather the snow
To weather the storm

Often I see fear in your eyes
And sometimes I know
Your heart is full of little arrows
But trusting me and no one can do you wrong

‘Coz I know and you know
Our love is strong enough
To weather the rain
To weather the snow
To weather the storm

To weather the rain
To weather the snow
To weather the storm

To weather the rain
To weather the snow
To weather the storm

To weather the rain
To weather the snow
To weather the storm

Songwriters
Andrew Barlow, Lou Rhodes

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smoke ‘em if ya gottem – Fun Lovin’ Criminals


flc_1Smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em, smoke ‘em if ya gottem
If ya ain’t gottem then ya hit rock bottom

 

 

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Removing psychiatric patients’ cigarettes deepens their trauma.


Spot-on opinion piece by Rosie DiManno on the power-addicted bureaucrats in charge of The Purple Empire – the totalitarian mini-state that is CAMH – who’ve instituted a new inquisition to take away the one thing that many patients finds actually helps them soothe and calm their own pain – a smoke.

Another example of how power goes to people’s heads.

The pettiest bureaucrats stop us taking the drugs that we like because they actually help – and then use every instrument of state to force us to take the flavour of the week drugs they happen to be pushing this week. 

And they call this  “healthcare”…

Let’s call it what it is: Bollocks.

Smoke em, smoke em, smoke em if you got em.

Removing psychiatric patients’ cigarettes deepens their trauma.

The Centre for Addiction and Mental Health’s cigarette ban fails to realize how smokes can soothe a troubled patient.

Cigarettes are a crutch but for CAMH patients they do soothe and calm.

By: Rosie DiManno Columnist, Published on Fri Apr 18 2014 smoke em if you got em

First they said no smoking — and that was the law of the land. Then they said tobacco products could not be kept in one’s room or on one’s person — and that was the law of CAMH, the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health. Finally they said these items would no longer be stored in patient storage lockers, under lock and key — lock and key, like morphine or psychotropic drugs — and that is a proscription entirely too far.

Some people, some institutions, are simply addicted to power. That is the irony of CAMH, which can wrap itself in a shroud of virtue. It exists to break individuals of their will, which is the pathology of addiction. They would never admit to their own pathology because they invented the language, they make all the rules, they can act as coercively as they please against some of the most vulnerable people among us and call it a matter of health.

As of April 30, keeping cigarettes — a legal product — in a patient storage locker will be forbidden. Any resident patient with off-site privileges who might wish to step outdoors for a puff — beyond the property, on the sidewalk, or across the street because smoking is not permitted on the grounds — would therefore have to buy a pack from a nearby convenience story each time the nicotine itch hits, then throw it away before re-entering.

CAMH includes smoke cessation programs on its mental health menu. But most people who end up at any of its three primary Toronto locations are not there because of a nicotine addiction. Their mental health issues are far more complex, often paralyzing. They are in crisis, fearful, fraying. A cigarette is indeed a crutch but it does soothe and calm. It is also, frankly, a pleasure and many of these patients have precious little in their lives to comfort the churning mind, the twitching hands, the racing heart.

From the very onset of provincial and municipal antismoking legislation, the one-size-fits-all ban was jackboot oppressive. It made no exception for exceptional circumstances — psychiatric facilities most particularly.

It is institutional bullying against frail, emotionally and psychologically brittle souls. CAMH has taken this crusade to appalling lengths. A cigarette, any nicotine product, is no less contraband than a switchblade knife, a crack pipe or a bottle of hooch. A memorandum circulated by Kim Bellissimo, human resources vice-president, stipulates that a “Tobacco Free CAMH” includes “removing the inpatient tobacco storage lockers at all CAMH Sites.”

Tobacco becomes a “prohibited” item. Compliance — a chilling word much beloved by autocrats — is mandatory. Unable to store their tobacco in lockers, doubtless some patients will seek other means to keep their smokes close by, making (rightfully) paranoid lawbreakers out of impotent men and women, victimizing people who are largely incapable of advocating for themselves.

They’re so easy to browbeat, the mentally fragile, to metaphorically lobotomize via needlessly and heedlessly harsh regimens. Offenders who don’t fly straight will face consequences, to the point — if it comes to that — of exile. That’s not therapy; it’s brute force.

“We’ve been trying to address this for 10 years,” argues Dr. Peter Selby, chief of the addictions division at CAMH.

Selby asserts that tobacco manufacturers “specifically target the mentally ill in their advertising” — smoking for the stupid is how the campaign has been characterized in industry literature, he says. In fact, tobacco companies can’t advertise their products at all, nor even sponsor sports and entertainment events in most countries. Those Mad Men days are over.

Selby tries a different tact: “Our patients die 25 years before the rest of the population. It’s tobacco that accounts for the lion’s share of those deaths. We, as mental health professionals, said: ‘Wait a minute. We’re helping our patients get better mentally but they’re dying right in front of our eyes.’ ”

Well, we’re all dying, right in front of each other’s eyes. But in the moment — for today, this week, these months, perhaps many years ahead — it’s the coping with life, as best we can under circumstances so fraught with pain and despair that we’ve landed in a mental hospital, which is the immediate trauma. A psychiatric institution should not be in the business of further traumatizing those who are already suffering, and certainly not by all but criminalizing an off-premises smoke break.

Selby sounds genuinely upset when he describes patients “picking up cigarette butts from the sidewalk” out front. What’s more stunning is that an expert in addiction could look at that scene and see only the addiction, not the need, not the gentling of other compulsions, not the blessed momentary relief.

By his own admission, most CAMH patients are not there because they want to quit smoking. They’ve fallen apart, lacerated by the struggle of existence. They’re sad and shattered and angry and overwhelmed. Some are drug addicts, some are alcoholics. All need help and compassion, therapeutic intervention, a temporary refuge from the inner storm.

They’re not smoking in their rooms. Their smoke lounges were removed in 2003. It’s the institution employees who don’t like walking through “a wall of smoke” to get into the building and complained about it to the Ministry of Labour. From smoke-free to empty your pockets to empty your lockers.

It’s the maniacs — and their bureaucratic enablers — who’ve taken over the asylum. Rosie DiManno usually appears Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Original http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2014/04/18/removing_psychiatric_patients_cigarettes_deepens_their_trauma_dimanno.html

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pump me up – Troublefunk


pump me upwiggle your neck and stomp your feet

and boogie on down to da’ funky beat

 

 

 

 

Trouble Funk – Pump me up 
(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)

(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)

(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)
Like the man with the super ‘S’ on his cape
We’re gonna junp to the funk
like we got no weight.

I’m DJ Rock and I can pass the test
Uh to get down the wit’ the rappers
From the East to West
This party pleased, that party pleased
I’ll pump them all with the greatest of ease
This is DJ Rock with the master beat
The boogie-oogie sound that moves your feet
Somebody say (Get up, get up)
Somebody say (Get up, get up)
You party good, you throwin’ down
You complement this funky sound
The funk is here so you can groove
We want to make your body move
And that brother there, his name is Dyke
He’s gonna hit you with the rest so you can boogie tonight

I say downtown shoppin’ with some flashes in mind
Just listen here closely while I tell you my line
I’m slick Dyke can be very naughty
I’m known by the name sporty shorty
And when checkin’ out the others that dress so mean
They put me in the mind of a Mr. Cardin
But Calvin Kline seems to come through
Until Yves St Laurent walks up to GQ
But that’s not it, they still want more
So I send them down to Studio 54
Say Jordache, Bon’jour, Cassini, Sassoon,
I’ve got the jeans that make the tunes
Can you smile, in your style
with you’re mouth, without
be cusin’ with a big, because what can I do now?

Now you exit the store,
acting just like a jerk
But all he wants to see is your body work
(Work your body, work your body, work your body. Work your body)
(Work your body, work your body, work your body. Go all the way!)
(Work your body, work your body, work your body)
(Work your body, work your body, work, Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)

(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)
Like Perry Mason gonna solve the case
You just listen to the sound of the funky bass
Like Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn
You’re gonna boogie on-a down ’til the break of dawn
Like a party over here, a party over there
We got a party all in this atmosphere
You get wiggle your neck and stomp your feet
and boogie on down to da’ funky beat
Well they call me Dick and that’s my name
And funkin’ around, it is my game
So funker’s here da’ thing you’ve got to have what it takes
And if you can’t funk then those are the breaks
So “L’s” are for squares you’d better get live
‘Cos everyone’s tryin’ to get Funk-matized
And this is what you need and that’s a fact
And with this you don’t need no mack-attack
So if you’re out for lunch, just take a hunch
And boogie on down with the rest of the bunch
You should be bumpin’ your behind all in the air
All over the where, just everywhere
And if you’re on the dance floor and if you can’t hang
Just sit on down and let us shake our thing
And if you still sittin’ down and can’t shake your rump, holler
(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)
(Shake that thing, shake that thing, you gotta shake that thing)
You gotta
(Shake that thing, shake that thing, you gotta shake that thing)
Everybody go
(Shake that thing, shake that thing, you gotta shake that thing)
Pump it on up, pump it on up
(Shake that thing, shake that thing, you gotta shake that thing)

I’m a put you on down on the one
So we can all get together and have some fun
I’m teller here, an’ I’m teller there
I’m tellin’, I’m tellin’ I’m tellin’ you now
Like Einstein the master mind,
All the women thought a dat he was shy
Like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Well they never miss a beat, they are right on time
Like Fat Albert when he wanna eat
It takes a lot of funky food ta’ get him outta his seat
When the gang is down at the junkyard dump
Fat Albert is eatin’ to the rythm of the bump.
Like Tarzan and Jane they’re dancin’ to the beat
And Boy, and Cheata, they’re stompin’ their feet
And if you still sittin’ down and can’t get up, holler
(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)

(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)

(Pump, pump, pump, pump me up)
Read more at http://www.songlyrics.com/trouble-funk/pump-me-up-lyrics/#wYdzloJRVdgAf4Oc.99

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