This is a terrible word. It grants the conscience permission to leave a goal, task, or mission incomplete. What's worse is that it develops a habit of cynicism masked as realism. Let's use the LSAT as an example.
If I begin my LSAT studies now for the Fall exam, and my mantra is "I will break 172," one of two things will happen, listed in order of likliehood:
Name that state! If you said, "the state of grandiosity," keep "trying."
1. I will break 172.
2. I will not break 172.
The first is more likely to happen because the word "will" is tantamount to burning the ships behind me. If I give myself an out ("try"), I'll be tempted to use it, e.g. "I studied all week, I don't need to study tonight," "I broke 172 on my last PT, it'll be good," etc. "Will" grants no such escape.
But let's say I end up dealing with the second outocome: I don't break 172. One of two things can happen. The first is that I'll probably be the victim of some crushing despair. And that's fine. During this depression, I will know that laziness had no part to play in this LSAT shortcoming. I'll know that the LSAT-tears falling from my tired and bloodshot eyes into my beer a month from test day are because of some inefficient method in problem solving, like a poorly diagrammed Logic Game, or a series of missed Assumption questions. Fixing a problem solving method is so much easier than fixing lazy habits via vocabulary.
The second possibility that follows me not breaking 172 is that I'm fine with the score that I do get. 169? Fine. 170? That's pretty stinking awesome. 164? Hell, that's still 90th percentile. If I'm not neurotic, I'll be happy with any of those scores; and instead of crying into my beer a month from test day, I'll be pouring one out for the homies, grinning like an idiot while I sing and dance to Don't Stop Believing.
The student that "tries to break 172," barring some heinous mis-bubbling in her/his own favor, dooms her/himself to not breaking 172. In "trying," s/he admits to her/himself that the possibility of failure is not only real, but likely enough that it needs to be acknowledged while pursuing her/his goals.
This line of thinking is cynical and dumb. Here's why: Everyone knows that there's a very real likelihood of failure, even the student who says "I will break 172" knows that. S/he knows that shit happens. All. The. Time. If we all know that, what the hell is the point in telling anyone, including oneself? It's like raising awareness for HIV/AIDS...who--except for imaginary people living 3,000 feet below sea level with no access to communication for the past 70 years--doesn't know it exists? Do something about it instead of simply acknowledging its presence.
People who use "try" like to pride themselves in their honesty or realism. If I were meaner, I'd say even "try-ers" need something to be proud of, and their long series of "almosts" and false-starts leaves them little else but their "realism" to point to.
But I'm not meaner, so I'll just say that their habit is self-defeating. And because my spouse, brother, family, and friends have all, at one time or another, indicated I "have all the answers" (I choose to ignore their sarcastic deliveries), I'm going to give you "try-ers" the solution to the problem you didn't know you had:
Lie to yourself and embrace the disappointment or success that comes out of the actions of your lie.
Morality--the Disney way.More colloquially, "Fake it 'til you make it."
Confidential to Zen students: please don't send me emails dissecting the paradox of indicating that one thought-form ("will") is better than another ("try") because "both perpetuate the thought-cycle." If you're studying for the LSAT and you're doing your zazen, you know that using "try" or "will" is immaterial to your own LSAT score. However, getting to that point of realization is a long process that involves breaking a lot of old habits--at the top of that old-habit list are cynicism and lazy thoughts.