The Language Of Inaction

Mon Sep 08 2025

We fool ourselves with well-known, overused verbs. Try. Hope. Plan. Wait. Think about. Intend. They sound like motion, like forward energy, action even, but they are nothing of the kind. They are holding patterns dressed up as progress. They keep us safe in the fantasy of movement or progress while leaving the present moment totally untouched.

This is the language of inaction.

The Problem

These verbs, try, hope, plan, intend, wait, think about, are familiar. They suggest movement but quietly postpone it. Saying “I’ll try” feels lighter, as if a burden has shifted, but nothing has changed. They let us feel relief without changing anything. Around them cluster whole families of variations: maybe, might, could, if, we’ll see; later, someday, one day; should have, could have, would have; and comforting phrases like “it’ll all work out” or “things will get better.” None of these are acts. They mark intention, hesitation, or excuse, but not action.

The danger isn’t occasional use, everyone plans, hopes, or thinks about things. The danger lies in mistaking these words for action. A plan is not action. Hope is not action. A promise to “try” is not action. These are verbal disguises for stillness. They let us buy relief without changing the present.

How It Works

The verbs of inaction operate by shifting agency out of the only place it can truly exist: the present. Each carries a built-in escape hatch, moving responsibility into the future, the past, or a conditional space.

Future Deferral

Phrases like “I’ll try,” “I’ll get to it,” “I’m planning to…” export agency into a tomorrow that never arrives. You feel forward-leaning, but nothing moves. Corporate meetings abound with these: “We’re exploring options,” “We’ll circle back,” “Let’s revisit this next quarter.” In personal life: “I’ll start the diet tomorrow,” or “I’ll get serious about my art next year.” The present remains inert, while the future is endlessly deferred.

Past Lament

Expressions such as “should have,” “could have,” “would have” place agency retroactively in a past that cannot be changed. This creates a loop of regret that substitutes for present action. Nostalgia industries thrive on this pattern, selling endless variations of “things would have been different if only…” The present action becomes the performance of regret, which mimics engagement but leaves reality untouched.

Conditional Suspension

Words like “maybe,” “might,” “could,” “if” frame action as a possibility without commitment. They create a shimmering field of potential that never crystallizes. Corporate language uses this to shield risk: “If conditions allow, we may consider…” Beyond the boardroom, entire cultures and traditions embed these conditional evasions into their language of wisdom and patience. Mindfulness culture often encourages acceptance and patience, “Just be,” “Let go,” “Accept what is”, which at their best remind us not to obsess over control, but can also become slogans that sanctify non-movement. The problem is not mindfulness itself, but the way these phrases are used to valorize passivity instead of presence. Religious language outsources agency upward: “Leave it in God’s hands,” “Wait on the Lord,” “Trust His timing.” These defer responsibility to an authority who cannot be held accountable, absolving the individual of action while appearing virtuous. The result is a faith practice that can dull initiative by treating delay or passivity as obedience.

Optimism as Anesthesia

Phrases like “It’ll all work out,” or “Things will get better,” outsource the future to fate, replacing confrontation with comfort. Corporations may say, “The market will correct itself.” Such phrases reassure stakeholders while excusing leaders from taking decisive measures. Optimism here sedates rather than energizes. Without action in the present, nothing guarantees the future will respond to intention.

Each of these structures serves the same end: the present remains untouched. They simulate agency while suspending it, giving the chemical relief of imagined motion without the cost of exposure, risk, or change.

What To Do Instead

If the language of inaction seduces because it feels safe, the way out is to notice when these words slip in and force them back into the present. The trick is simple but brutal: audit, translate, act.

Audit

Listen to your speech and self-talk. Notice phrases like “I’ll try,” “I should,” “Maybe I could,” “It’ll all work out.” Each is a marker of deferred agency. Write them down as they appear. They reveal where you’ve outsourced responsibility.

Translate

Strip away the disguise by converting these phrases into present-tense active verbs. For example:

• “I’ll try to write” becomes “I write.”
• “I hope to change” becomes “I change.”
• “I should have acted differently” becomes “I act differently now.”
• “I’ll start exercising next week” becomes “I exercise today.”
• “Maybe I’ll call my friend” becomes “I call my friend.”
• “I’ll get to the project later” becomes “I work on the project now.”

This translation forces the verb into the only time frame where life actually happens: the present.

Act

Ask yourself: does this phrase move me into the present, or does it delay me into the future, dissolve me into the past, or suspend me in conditionals? If it’s not present, discard it. Replace vague promises with concrete, immediate tasks. For example:

• Novel writing: Instead of “I should really try to finish my novel,” say “I write 200 words before lunch.”
• Fitness: Instead of “I plan to get fit someday,” say “I do 15 minutes of exercise now.”
• Relationships: Instead of “Maybe I’ll reach out later,” say “I send a message today.”
• Work commitments: Instead of “I’ll get to the report eventually,” say “I work on the report this afternoon.”

Addressing the Counterargument

Planning, trying, and hoping can be useful, but only when paired with present action, not as endpoints. Planning outlines a path, trying expresses intention, hoping fuels motivation. But without grounding these in concrete steps taken now, they remain empty gestures. The protocol doesn’t ban these words; it demands they lead to real action.

Refuse Optimism as Anesthesia

Comforting yourself with “things will work out” is an evasion. Replace it with one of two honest moves: take action, or admit you are not taking action. Both are cleaner than sedating yourself with hope.

Conclusion

The language of inaction is treacherous because it feels harmless. But every time we speak these phrases to ourselves, we trade real agency for a simulation. The rocking horse rocks, but the scenery never changes. Days pass, projects stall, lives drift.

Control your words, or they will control your life.