I love vision statements. Though the vision statement has a mixed reputation in the corporate world, its use in other contexts is underappreciated. You can see this for yourself. You have the power to rescue the vision statement from its bland, amorphous, corporate-handbook origins. You can shrink it down to a travel-sized version, and bring it out in your personal life, even in social situations. Here, it succeeds surprisingly often, and surprisingly well. Here, it can turn into social magic.

On a recent trip to New Orleans, I suggested the exercise to two close friends. Starting at a bar, we brainstormed increasingly bold and poetic ideas for what the weekend could be. We settled on a vision inspired by the winding mystique of the city’s oldest neighborhoods, by its voodoo associations, and by our hope the weekend would mark a personal turning point for each of us: “Down dark alleys, explore new avenues.” We made our vision statement an incantation over each of the many drinks we shared. We began asking our servers and barmates where to go next, and trusted them blindly. We found ourselves in weirder, more interesting, and more authentic settings and conversations than we’d have found otherwise, led by the openness and curiosity our vision statement engendered in us.

I challenge you to try this at your next dinner, meeting, or trip. I’ve found it works best with people you know very well, or barely at all–but less well with people in the middle. If you try it, don’t be sheepish. Summon whatever charisma and courage you have. If you’re committed enough, the group will play along. And here’s what will happen:

• Expanded possibility space. Your group will subtly but automatically expand its ideas of what this shared experience can be … they will think bigger, and open themselves to deeper conversation; people may pay attention to more cues than normal, taking closer note of setting and mood.
• Shared vulnerability. Because you’ve already taken a risk, others will let down their guard; any eye-rolls will quickly be outweighed by people wanting to support each other, taking chances.
• More cohesion. The conversation will become less passive and more active … people will focus less on their own experience, and more on group’s. The experience will either hew more closely to a shared vision, or depart from it with more purpose.
• Increased likelihood of magic. If the exercise falls flat, the group will laugh it off and have a normal dinner or whatever. But if it takes off, your chances go way up of having a magical evening, a lifetime memorable trip, a communal or even spiritual experience.

If all this talk of vision statements evokes in you a mental eye-roll, you’ve probably been asked to commit (or act committed) to a mediocre one. Or maybe you’ve worked in a place where the vision statement really was great, but still no one thought about it much. For people to find a corporate vision statement both inspiring and achievable, a company’s culture needs a certain amount of earnestness. But a lot of other things need to be going right as well. It’s probably pretty rare. So vision statements end up seeming corny for reasons not inherent to them.

Whatever the genesis of all this baggage, it has caused the vision statement to become an underrated piece of social technology. The magic is in embracing the baggage. Let it be unwieldy. Toss it out anyway. Those receiving it may be just off-balance enough to start holding onto one another for support. This is why the vision exercise works better than just saying, “Hey everyone, let’s try to be present during this time together, let’s try to set aside distractions, let’s share more deeply than we ordinarily would, and make this a memorable and meaningful experience for everyone.” Suggesting a vision allows people to laugh nervously at first, while also letting their guard down, and venturing some ideas. The cynics will show themselves. Don’t you want to know who they are? And those willing to play ball will find support, and then will go further.

The vision-setting exercise lets a group author its experience together. It’s only corny if people don’t believe it. And you can get them to believe it.