{"id":20265,"date":"2026-02-19T14:43:33","date_gmt":"2026-02-19T14:43:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265"},"modified":"2026-02-19T14:43:33","modified_gmt":"2026-02-19T14:43:33","slug":"passing-true-north-to-the-next-marine-how-one-womans-integrity-changed-a-unit-without-ever-raising-her-voice","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265","title":{"rendered":"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice"},"content":{"rendered":"

The combatives bay at Camp Pendleton always smelled like old sweat and new disinfectant, like the past refusing to leave.
I stood on the mat, calm on the outside, while thirty Marines formed a loose ring and waited for someone to bleed pride onto the canvas.
My name is Corporal Jenna Rourke<\/strong>, five-four and one-eighteen, and I\u2019d learned a long time ago that quiet is its own kind of armor.<\/p>\n

Staff Sergeant Cole Maddox<\/strong> circled me like he owned gravity.
Six-two, ranch-strong, shoulders like a doorframe, the type of man who hated change because it made him look small.
He didn\u2019t hide it\u2014his resentment, his fixation on women in infantry, his belief that standards were \u201cdropping.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pointed at me and said, loud enough for the whole bay, \u201cThis isn\u2019t paperwork, Corporal. People get hurt.\u201d
I answered the way I always do when someone\u2019s trying to pull emotion out of me: \u201cUnderstood, Staff Sergeant.\u201d
Behind my ear, hidden under hair and sweat, the eight-point compass tattoo felt like it burned.<\/p>\n

Maddox waved in his champion, Corporal Brady Knox<\/strong>, a grappling stud with a grin that said I was a lesson he couldn\u2019t wait to teach.
Knox shot in hard, textbook double-leg, expecting my frame to fold.
I stepped, turned, used his momentum like a lever, and put him on the mat so clean the sound surprised everyone.<\/p>\n

My hands found his shoulder, my hips sank, and the lock clicked into place.
\u201cTap,\u201d I said, not cruel, just factual.
Three seconds later, Knox slapped the mat, eyes wide, and the bay went silent like the oxygen got pulled.<\/p>\n

He came again, angry now, and anger makes people predictable.
I let him climb my back, then slid under his arm and cinched a choke that ended the round before his ego even caught up.
Five seconds. Another tap. Thirty Marines staring like they\u2019d just watched the rules change.<\/p>\n

Maddox\u2019s jaw flexed as if he was chewing glass.
He stepped onto the mat himself, twenty years of frustration rolling off him in heat waves, and for a split second I saw Captain Luis Serrano<\/strong> up in the observation window shift forward like he sensed this wasn\u2019t training anymore.
Maddox charged, and I gave him what he wanted\u2014room to feel powerful\u2014until his balance belonged to me.<\/p>\n

Ninety seconds later he was on his back, breath ragged, trapped in a submission he couldn\u2019t muscle out of.
I held it just long enough for the lesson to land, then released and stood, face blank, pulse steady.
Maddox staggered up, humiliated, and his boots echoed out of the bay like a promise he\u2019d cash soon.<\/p>\n

When the bay emptied, I stayed behind, wiping blood from a split lip, counting witnesses and violations in my head.
That compass behind my ear wasn\u2019t decoration\u2014it was a mark, a reminder of why I was here.
And as my phone buzzed with a single coded text\u2014\u201c72 HOURS. EXPECT RETALIATION.\u201d<\/strong>\u2014I asked myself one question: how far would Maddox go to break me before I could bury him with the truth?<\/p>\n

Retaliation started before the bruise on Maddox\u2019s pride even had time to bloom.
\nWithin twelve hours, I had \u201ccorrective training\u201d stacked on my schedule like bricks\u2014dead hangs until my forearms screamed, rifle holds until my shoulders shook, extra duty that magically appeared after lights-out.
\nMaddox never raised his voice while he did it, which made it worse, because calm cruelty is always intentional.<\/p>\n

I kept my answers short, my eyes forward, my face neutral.
\nThe Marines watching were split down the middle\u2014some looked at me like hope, others like trouble that might splash onto them.
\nBrady Knox stopped smirking and started staring, as if he was trying to decide whether I\u2019d embarrassed him or exposed him.<\/p>\n

On the second night, Maddox ordered a pack run with \u201cminor modifications.\u201d
\nThat\u2019s how he said it, like he was adjusting a thermostat.
\nWhen I checked the scale, my pack read eighty-five pounds\u2014twenty over regulation\u2014and the straps were tightened so hard they bit skin through my blouse.<\/p>\n

Lance Corporal Diego Alvarez, our fire team lead, leaned in and whispered, \u201cThis is wrong.\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t answer, because my job wasn\u2019t to argue in the open.
\nMy job was to document, endure, and let a man build his own cage one illegal order at a time.<\/p>\n

By day four, Maddox escalated to a seventy-two-hour field evolution and called it \u201ca standards check.\u201d
\nHe cut rest windows, extended routes, and pushed us through sand and rock until everything blurred into one long punishment.
\nIf he could force a failure, he could sell a story: the small female Marine couldn\u2019t hack it, therefore he was right.<\/p>\n

I walked anyway.
\nMy feet bled into my socks; my shoulders went raw under the straps; my throat stayed dry no matter how much I drank.
\nAt night, while the others tried to sleep, I wrote time stamps in my notebook by red lens light\u2014load weights, denied breaks, medical checks skipped.<\/p>\n

The compass tattoo behind my ear pulsed every time I remembered why I didn\u2019t quit.
\nFirst Lieutenant Eli Park had been the one who gave me a brass compass years ago, his hands shaking from exhaustion after he\u2019d whispered, \u201cTrue north is doing what\u2019s right when no one\u2019s watching.\u201d
\nTwo weeks later he was dead under \u201ctraining circumstances\u201d that never made sense, and the reports were sealed so tight they might as well have been welded.<\/p>\n

That compass became my promise.
\nI inked the eight points behind my ear so I\u2019d never forget what cowardice costs.
\nNow, every mile Maddox piled on was just more evidence he didn\u2019t know he was handing me.<\/p>\n

At hour sixty-two, the desert heat turned vicious despite the coastal air, and Private First Class Rojas started stumbling.
\nHis breathing went shallow, his chest uneven, panic in his eyes\u2014the kind of panic you see when the body is failing faster than courage.
\nI dropped beside him, fingers already moving, because some training stays in you like bone.<\/p>\n

His trachea was shifting.
\nOne side of his chest wasn\u2019t rising right.
\nTension pneumothorax\u2014collapsed lung with pressure building\u2014something that kills fast if nobody has the skill or the nerve to act.<\/p>\n

I pulled a 14-gauge catheter from my kit, found the landmark, and drove it in clean.
\nAir hissed out like a tire releasing, and Rojas\u2019 eyes cleared enough to focus on mine.
\nI started cooling, got an IV in, called the medevac, and when the corpsman arrived he looked at me like he\u2019d just realized I wasn\u2019t what Maddox said I was.<\/p>\n

The helo crew lifted Rojas out, and my Marines watched in stunned silence.
\nMaddox showed up at the final checkpoint with a clipboard, face tight, because saving a life ruined his narrative.
\nBrady Knox tried to needle me, laughing about a navigation slip I made earlier, like he needed to reclaim something.<\/p>\n

That time my control cracked for half a second.
\nI looked him dead in the eye and said, \u201cPride gets people killed. I\u2019ve watched it happen.\u201d
\nThen I swallowed the rest of what I wanted to say and went back to being stone.<\/p>\n

We finished the seventy-two hours, wrecked and limping, and Maddox\u2019s pen scratched hard on his clipboard like he was writing my obituary.
\nThat\u2019s when two NCIS agents and a Navy commander appeared in the dust at the edge of the formation, too clean, too official, too calm.
\nThey didn\u2019t look at me first\u2014they looked at Maddox and said, \u201cStaff Sergeant, we need you in the TOC. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the operations center, the commander opened a folder thick enough to break a wrist.
\nPhotos, logs, witness statements, weight records, denied medical rest, illegal punitive intent\u2014every step Maddox took to crush me, captured and labeled.
\nMaddox\u2019s face shifted from confidence to something closer to fear, and I felt the moment balance on a knife edge.<\/p>\n

Then the commander turned to me and said, \u201cCorporal Rourke, identify yourself for the record.\u201d
\nI reached back, swept my hair aside, and exposed the compass tattoo like a badge.
\nMaddox\u2019s eyes widened as if he\u2019d finally realized the mat wasn\u2019t the fight\u2014it was the bait.<\/p>\n

And before I could speak, the TOC door swung open again and a man in civilian clothes walked in with a familiar last name on his ID badge: Kaine.
\nHe looked straight at me, not confused\u2014recognizing.
\nMy stomach dropped, because the last time I heard that name, it was attached to a general-level file I wasn\u2019t supposed to touch.<\/p>\n

The man introduced himself as Ethan Kaine<\/strong>, special counsel assigned to the joint oversight team, and he didn\u2019t waste time pretending this was routine.
He nodded at the folder, then at Maddox, and said, \u201cWe\u2019ve been tracking patterns like this across multiple units. Yours was just sloppy enough to document clean.\u201d
Maddox tried to posture, but posture collapses when the room has authority and receipts.<\/p>\n

The Navy commander read the violations out loud, one by one, with dates and regulations attached.
Illegal punishments.
Safety protocol breaches.
Targeted harassment.
Unlawful command influence.
Reckless endangerment during a field evolution.<\/p>\n

Maddox\u2019s mouth opened, then closed, because every defense sounded weak next to the facts.
He tried the old line about standards, about toughness, about \u201cprotecting the Corps.\u201d
I watched him say those words while he\u2019d nearly killed a private to prove a point, and something cold settled in my chest.<\/p>\n

When it was my turn, I spoke the way I\u2019d trained myself to speak\u2014flat, precise, impossible to twist.
I described the weight overages, the denied rests, the instructions delivered off-record, the way he used other Marines as pressure tools.
I explained the medical emergency and why it happened: not bad luck, but engineered fatigue.<\/p>\n

Then I said the part he least expected.
I told him he didn\u2019t hate me because I was small or female or new-model Marine.
He hated me because I made him feel exposed, because technique doesn\u2019t care about ego, and integrity doesn\u2019t salute resentment.<\/p>\n

Ethan Kaine slid a second packet across the table, and that\u2019s when Maddox finally looked scared.
It wasn\u2019t just my documentation.
There were statements from Marines who\u2019d been punished before I ever arrived, injuries brushed off, complaints buried, careers stalled.<\/p>\n

The commander ordered Maddox to surrender his weapon, his access badge, and his credentials on the spot.
Security walked him out of the TOC while he protested, voice rising, and no one followed him.
Outside the window, the base kept moving like it always does\u2014trucks rolling, Marines marching\u2014because institutions survive by acting normal while rot gets cut out.<\/p>\n

Three weeks later, Maddox was reassigned to a rural recruiting station so far from influence it might as well have been exile.
The investigation widened, and two other staff NCOs who\u2019d hidden under his shadow were pulled into the light.
It wasn\u2019t a victory parade, just the slow, necessary grind of consequences finally catching up.<\/p>\n

The part that surprised me was what happened in the spaces between.
Brady Knox approached me outside the chow hall, no grin this time.
He said, \u201cI was wrong,\u201d and the words sounded like they hurt him to say, which meant they were real.<\/p>\n

He told me watching me save Rojas changed something in his head.
He said toughness wasn\u2019t dominance\u2014it was doing the right thing when your friends might mock you for it.
Then he asked how to report misconduct without getting buried, and I handed him the contact card I\u2019d been waiting to give someone who earned it.<\/p>\n

Lance Corporal Diego Alvarez asked me for a reference for officer candidate school.
He said he\u2019d learned more about leadership watching me stay calm under illegal pressure than he\u2019d learned in months of speeches.
I wrote the reference that night, not because I wanted credit, but because the Corps needs officers who can smell cruelty behind the word \u201cdiscipline.\u201d<\/p>\n

A week after Maddox was gone, a young female lance corporal transferred into weapons company.
She moved like she expected impact, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes cautious.
I recognized that posture immediately\u2014new to the unit, old to the fear.<\/p>\n

I pulled her aside near the connex boxes where the wind was loud enough to hide private words.
I told her she didn\u2019t have to earn basic respect with suffering.
Then I brushed my hair back and showed her the eight-point compass behind my ear.<\/p>\n

Her eyes widened, the way mine once did when I realized I wasn\u2019t alone.
I didn\u2019t tell her everything\u2014program names don\u2019t matter as much as purpose.
I just said, \u201cTrue north is integrity. It doesn\u2019t get easier. You just get steadier.\u201d<\/p>\n

That night, I sat on my rack and held the brass compass I\u2019d kept since Lieutenant Eli Park.
I finally let myself feel the weight of what we\u2019d done\u2014not revenge, not rebellion, but correction.
Because in the end, the Corps isn\u2019t protected by the loudest men in the room. It\u2019s protected by the Marines who refuse to look away.<\/p>\n

If this fired you up, like share comment your Marine story, and follow for more real courage and accountability.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The combatives bay at Camp Pendleton always smelled like old sweat and new disinfectant, like the past refusing to leave.I stood on the mat, calm on the outside, while thirty Marines formed a loose ring and waited for someone to bleed pride onto the canvas.My name is Corporal Jenna Rourke, five-four and one-eighteen, and I\u2019d […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":20266,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20265","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\nPassing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The combatives bay at Camp Pendleton always smelled like old sweat and new disinfectant, like the past refusing to leave.I stood on the mat, calm on the outside, while thirty Marines formed a loose ring and waited for someone to bleed pride onto the canvas.My name is Corporal Jenna Rourke, five-four and one-eighteen, and I\u2019d […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-02-19T14:43:33+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Daily life\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Daily life\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"10 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265\",\"name\":\"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-02-19T14:43:33+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/0798909bd6049a0fa637904efb5949f7\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/0798909bd6049a0fa637904efb5949f7\",\"name\":\"Daily life\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/649783f78a7f7ccf455b548a38fbd731b4a456beb76aaeb2a655077f4c3ea71a?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/649783f78a7f7ccf455b548a38fbd731b4a456beb76aaeb2a655077f4c3ea71a?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Daily life\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=7\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice - Purposeful Days","og_description":"The combatives bay at Camp Pendleton always smelled like old sweat and new disinfectant, like the past refusing to leave.I stood on the mat, calm on the outside, while thirty Marines formed a loose ring and waited for someone to bleed pride onto the canvas.My name is Corporal Jenna Rourke, five-four and one-eighteen, and I\u2019d […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-02-19T14:43:33+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Daily life","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Daily life","Est. reading time":"10 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265","name":"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg","datePublished":"2026-02-19T14:43:33+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/0798909bd6049a0fa637904efb5949f7"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/ChatGPT-Image-19_47_31-19-thg-2-2026.jpg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=20265#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"Passing True North to the Next Marine: How One Woman\u2019s Integrity Changed a Unit Without Ever Raising Her Voice"}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/0798909bd6049a0fa637904efb5949f7","name":"Daily life","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/649783f78a7f7ccf455b548a38fbd731b4a456beb76aaeb2a655077f4c3ea71a?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/649783f78a7f7ccf455b548a38fbd731b4a456beb76aaeb2a655077f4c3ea71a?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Daily life"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=7"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20265","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=20265"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20265\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20267,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20265\/revisions\/20267"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/20266"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=20265"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=20265"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=20265"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}