Jason Fried: "Why Work does not Happen at Work"

I found this talk on Ted.com by Jason Fried : "Why Work does not Happen at Work"
I am reproducing Jason's talk here in order to spread the idea which I wholeheartedly endorse.
On a related point, people learn, think and process in different ways.It's a pity that many decision makers in industry know little to nothing about cognition, so most workers are herded into one type of working environment under the misconception that there is one way to learn and one type of environment to work in. Creative people and deep thinkers thrive if given the freedom to express their perceived off-kilter views in an atmosphere of openness and respect. This means the freedom to work in multiple environments which are not necessarily enclosed within an office space.

It's not just that great ideas come from people who are allowed space and time for creativity, but that there is a need for education of managers to understand differences in cognitive processes. Not all jobs use the same processes for analysis, perception, reasoning, or mechanical or emotive abilities. So to reduce the intellectual thought processes that comprise analysis, reasoning and judgment into a set of discrete steps that can be read by a computer is really an artificial construct. It's the bean-counter trying to measure a concept he has no real understanding of. It's like trying to capture the air we breathe and put a price on it.
Heaven forbid that the day comes when we have to pay for the privilege of thinking. Then we'll really know that the machines have taken over!

Frangipani- A Poem of Loss

My blog is a little different today. If I were a musician I would express myself with music, but having no such God-given or acquired talent, I will say it with poetry.
Some things are too difficult to reveal, so we have to find ways of release that don't betray too much or make the reader uncomfortable.

FRANGIPANI- A POEM OF LOSS

How can one fragrance open so many of the senses?
Tonight I breathe the scent of frangipani and have the sensation that I am falling backwards in time.
To a place where I used to live.
Memories tumble back haphazardly into my mind,
From wherever they have been all this time.
Where do thoughts go when we're not thinking of them?
Where do they reside?
I wonder what is the common denominator for all things:
Thoughts, feelings, objects, time, colour, music.
Love and death, father, mother, child and God.
Experience is a teacher but we imperfect beings don't always learn the lessons.
Some of us never do.
Intuition is the only teacher when all else fails.
Life is what it is.
Are we never to know the answers?

Or maybe death is the only key to the mysteries
Maybe it is the door to truly knowing.
I cannot conceive of nothingness
My mind is not capable of such a concept
Black holes make sense
But my not existing does not
Some things I experience fill me with a sense of such deep happiness
and fulfillment,
That nothing else matters in that moment
I am complete, filled up, and there's no room for wondering,
what more there is.

Frangipani, oleander, gardenia, jasmine and lilacs
Their fragrance take me to a place where there is nothing
But sensation in the moment
Pure and sensuous pleasure
In those moments I surround myself with music
Heart beating in an ancient rhythm.
And then I know I feel
And I know how truly alive I am
And I have so much love to give...

Will I ever see the ones I have loved,
Are they truly lost forever?
Why is it so real when we see them in dreams.
Is there a place where we meet again.
And when we get  back to that original state of being,
Will we know each other again?