Five Pillars of Focus

When the NBA shut down and the Philadelphia 76ers faced an organizational crisis just six weeks into Rob Newson's tenure as VP of Strategy and Vision, he didn't panic. After thirty years as a Navy SEAL—including deployments to Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Kenya, and Bosnia focused on counterterrorism—crisis response was muscle memory.

Rob draws from SEAL training, combat experience, battling cancer, and single parenting three children to distill five pillars of focus for navigating uncertainty. These principles, originally shared with ER residents on the front lines of COVID-19, apply universally to anyone facing disruption—whether it's lost income, health challenges, or simply the unmooring of routine.

The foundation begins in Hell Week, the five-day marathon of suffering that defines SEAL training. If you focus on Monday and think about the five days ahead, the task seems enormous. But if you focus only on the immediate moment—the thing right in front of you—you stop pulling forward pain that hasn't arrived yet. This principle carried Rob through war zones, cancer treatment, and sudden organizational upheaval.

The second pillar connects directly to Arbinger's core philosophy: focus outside yourself. When the NBA season was suspended and one of the opposing players tested positive for the virus, the 76ers leadership had a choice. They could go inward—how am I going to protect myself?—or they could focus outward: What decisions do we need to make to protect everyone? Who might be more at risk? Who needs to be lifted up? Rob observed that every leader in the organization stepped up, focused on purpose (are we ready to get back?) and psychological safety (both economic and human).

Finding humor in absurdity isn't frivolity—it's survival. SEALs grow up in a culture where instructors punish them for everything, often in surprisingly funny ways. Then they deploy to developing countries and war zones filled with tragedy and suffering. The point isn't to ignore the weight of circumstances, but to accept what Rob's yoga instructor called "the ease in the effort." The British special forces actually put their people through classes on how to be funny because it matters that much. American SEALs, Rob jokes, just come naturally to it.

Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable means accepting that you can't remove the discomfort—you can only get through it. In SEAL training, instructors get you wet and sandy, then say: don't bother wiping the sand off. Your goal isn't comfort. Your goal is the mission. The human body and unbreakable will are amazing things, but it's not what your body can do—it's what your mind will drive you toward.

The final pillar might surprise people coming from a hardened combat veteran: practice self care. Two decades of continuous combat operations have taught the military hard lessons. The old mentality—asking for help means you're damaged goods—contributed to suicides and suffering. A great leader taught Rob: you don't have to be broken to get better. You don't have to be sick to get healthy. Going to a psychologist or chaplain isn't weakness; it's like going to the gym. You're not broken—you're getting stronger.

Rob's parting message: watch your self-talk. If you can't get positive, at least stay neutral. Don't have internal conversations about how bad things are or what you don't want to happen. Negative self-talk becomes an undertow that drags you down. At minimum, speak to yourself in neutral terms.

Learning Objectives

1. Apply time horizon compression to reduce overwhelm during extended challenges—focusing only on the immediate task prevents pulling forward pain that hasn't arrived yet, making enormous undertakings manageable one moment at a time
2. Recognize inward mindset as the first step toward quitting—when self-talk focuses on personal suffering, blame, or justification, you're walking toward the bell; when focused on others and the mission, suffering is minimized because the mind can only focus on one thing at a time
3. Reframe self-care as strength training rather than damage repair—seeking help, talking about struggles, and maintaining psychological health are proactive investments in resilience, not admissions of brokenness