There is something which unites magic and applied science while separating both from the wisdom of earlier ages. For the wise men of old the cardinal problem had been how to conform the soul to reality, and the solution had been knowledge, self-discipline, and virtue. For magic and applied science alike the problem is how to subdue reality to the wishes of men: the solution is a technique; and both, in the practice of this technique, are ready to do things hitherto regarded as disgusting and impious […]
C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man
Thinking is very dangerous. Words are very dangerous. Talking is very dangerous.
Man invented language to satisfy his deep need to complain. (Lily Tomlin)
Most self-centered thinking and talk comes from non-adjustment to or fuddledness at reality. The accepted generates no discourse. The disagreeable, if not accepted, does. The straightforward generates no discourse. The perplexing does. The number of words a person generates per day is usually a pretty good index of maladjustment and bewilderedness. Now, the solution to maladjustment is not talking: it is acceptance. The solution to bafflement involves a little talking: presenting the facts of the situation to a wiser, usually older, person, and then taking notes on what to do or what principles to apply. A little discussion might ensue, but the discussion is not symmetrical. The job is not, through words, to reconstrue reality until it becomes acceptable or to contrive complex plots. The job is to adjust oneself to reality and comply with its way of doing things, not through fantasy and machination to force reality to adjust itself to one's predilection.
There's also some banter, chitchat, simple narration of the day, observations and funny stories, technical investigation, professional discussion, gushing by afficionados, expert exchanges. All of those are fine, in their place. It's the thinking and talking about self and one's life that is at issue here. Such discourse, to examine it at greater depth, is deadly for the following reasons:
Firstly, all discussion of a reality I am emotionally involved in distorts it. Reality is best apprehended clearly and directly, as by a still-life artist. Its analysis, like dissection, destroys the thing dissected and renders its macro-apprehension impossible. The bits are maybe interesting, but the creature is now dead: its life has fled, and its elegance, its nature, its character cannot be discerned from the parts thus separated from its being. Personal, immediate reality is like that. The purely analytical (in contrast to those who are also observant and intuitive and reserve analysis for its true place) can be exasperatingly thick: they can't see what a well-adjusted child would find obvious. Any old nonsense can be argued by the clever with their eyes shut and their ears blocked.
Secondly, the narrative about the circumstance or situation can actually take the place of the reality, which, having served as the scaffolding for the narrative, drops away. The reality can even be exploited by a narrator who has already drawn his conclusion and cherry-picks only those elements of reality that can be pressganged into testifying in his favour. Any course of action adopted is now based on a story, not on the supposed underlying reality.
Thirdly, each time a narrative is repeated, it is distorted, altered, made more aesthetic, stylised. Its lying nature grows like a canker.
Fourthly, any narrative about my life centres me as the narrator, whereas it is the life as it extends beyond me into the universe itself that should be centre-stage. A degree of self-centredness is required for inventory, for discussion, for planning. But taken to extremes it is morally corrupting.
Fifthly, me talking about me eclipses the world. The more I do it, the less sensitive I am to the reality of other people and the world. I become my only source of data.
Sixthly, discussion, if too widely dispersed, can turn into accomplice-shopping: one seeks out those most adept at or suited to helping one build a narrative according to one's own psychological objectives.
Seventhly, talking is exhausting and diminishes the scope and energy required for both action and presence, these being the two primary methods of implementing God's will.
Eighthly, it blocks out God. God's will is found more readily in observation and silence; God's will is rarely a sword tempered on an anvil of discussion through repeated hitting by discursive hammers.
In short, I find it best to speak about myself, my day, my life, to a few trusted others, and then just a little. Instead: to act, to observe, to be present, to appreciate. Anything more than half an hour a day of speaking about myself is almost invariably a destructive self-indulgence. It is not the route to truth and reality but the road to illusion, self-deception, folly, and hell.
Like salt, medicine, and harpsichord music, a little is good but a lot is too much for any but the most robust mortal frame.