In 1995, I was sentenced to 50 years in a high security prison, in a state where I had no one and knew no one. I was totally alone.
An initial piece of advice convicts gave me was, “Forget about the outside world because you are never getting out. You may as well get comfortable and make a name for yourself in prison because that is all that matters.” Making a ‘name’ for yourself meant joining a gang, fighting, resisting the guards, and being willing to put your life on the line.
In prison the path of least resistance is to conform to the crowd, make their values and goals your values and goals. I was a terrified young man being alone in this environment. My head throbbed and I longed for relief from the stress, pain, and loneliness that gripped me. “Just join us,” I remember one of the shot callers saying to me. “Everyone does in the end.”
I wanted desperately to embrace the path of least resistance to stop my pain. But something inside me refused to listen to those voices.
Instead, I chose the path of most resistance. If I was going to make it through Hell I had to figure out a way, to find that path through this journey.
You don’t know how strong you are until you are forced to face your fears. There is no growth in following the crowd and no strength in the refuge of sanctuary, for when challenge comes all you seek is to flee from it.
What gave me confidence in myself wasn’t the fact I was surrounded by lions. No. What gave me confidence in myself was the years I spent alone, sitting on a prison bunk in the middle of chaos teaching myself how to write. I dropped out of highschool after the 9th grade, and my secret was that I barely knew how to write. I couldn’t grasp it, but I knew I wanted to learn and to overcome my fear of English. Not just overcome, but conquer it and so I clutched pen and faced blank pages everyday and overcame. On the days when I didn’t overcome I still faced the blank page, and wrote something if not a single sentence vowing to try again tomorrow.
After a while I had stacks and stacks of filled pages I’d written and began to realize something. I am strongest in my discomfort. It is in discomfort where I build confidence and grow.
Prison isn’t about physical strength. It’s about mental fortitude, about what’s in your mind. You must face yourself and that is the greatest challenge. It took years before I truly understood this.
Happiness and peace is found first in your mind “The quality of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts” (Marcus Aurelius). Then, you discover your truth that enlightenment is in your heart and soul, but you had to journey to understand. Deep down you knew all along.
I took a risk decades ago by telling others I don’t share their views. I faced the fear of retribution for shunning the convict establishment. And retribution came.
Even on my darkest days where no one came to my aid and I had no one to go to, I stood my ground owning what came with my decision. Every hardship and defeat I endured only made me stronger. It made it possible for me to face myself. When you face yourself you overcome yourself. You discover there is nothing in this world that you cannot overcome.
I’ve heard a lot of advice over the decades I’ve been Inside. Most of it was shortsighted or prison focused; limiting or self-centered, or offered by individuals who didn’t live by the very words that came out of their mouths. Everyone seems to have an opinion.
I don’t care about opinions. What I know is that I am who I am because I face my fears when others flee from them. “The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones” (Confucius). I’ve put in the hard work to overcome and to better myself. “I must be willing to give up what I am in order to become what I will be” (Einstein) and now I know there isn’t anything I can’t achieve.
I act on what I feel and I question what I hear and see and this works for me. What works for you may be something different only you can answer that question.
I tell guys around me, you need to discover who you are. You need to face yourself and then put in the work — damn hard work, for there are no shortcuts — to better yourself and to build the future you sincerely desire. It doesn’t matter who you are or how long your sentence is because this journey isn’t a part time thing. “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are” (Carl Jung).
I will forever be grateful for the day after Christmas 1996 here in prison. I had spent the previous night vomiting, fighting fever and cold sweats. The next morning I somehow stumbled to the infirmary for help, and after 5 minutes was dismissed by a guard, “Go back to your unit,” the guard said. “You’ll live.” Five minutes that changed my life. I understood then that no one cared if I survived or perished and it was up to me to live. To face discomfort and thrive. “In ourselves our safety must be sought. By our right hand it must be wrought” (William Wordsworth). And I have taken that moment and taught myself to think differently, for here in prison you must know how far you’ve come or you will remain stuck where you began.
When you are alone over months, years, and decades with nothing but your thoughts you figure it out. And when you do you embrace the journey and begin to truly live.
In the 5 minutes it took you to read this I hope that it changes someone’s life, just as 5 minutes once changed mine “For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others” (Nelson Mandela).
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
Thank you! for following. If you haven’t already, subscribe and you will be notified the moment I publish a new post. —Christopher
I Choose the Path of Most Resistance
Some of Us Are Looking At the Stars by Christopher Monihan
I find strength and direction in the words of Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Oscar Wilde — all of whom were formerly incarcerated people. Their experience is that of every prisoner for the experience of incarnation transcends borders and time.
One of my favorite writings is the Ballad of Reading Gaol, by Oscar Wilde. Wilde was imprisoned more than 150 years ago in Europe’s infamous Reading Gaol prison. A former socialite fallen from grace, Wilde is reborn through the trials and tribulations of his time while at Reading Gaol.
(“And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats / None know so well as I” — Oscar Wilde)
Wilde struggled to cope with what he witnessed at Reading Gaol. Fellow prisoners preying upon one another, executions by the Hangman’s nose; and the beating of an imprisoned child younger than 10 years old at the hands of Reading Gaol’s warders. The boy’s crime? Shoplifting bread for nothing more than to stave off Poverty’s cruel hand of starvation.
(“In Reading Gaol by Reading Town / There is a pit of shame.” — Oscar Wilde)
Every prison has its pit of shame, metaphorical for the dark acts kept hidden from the light of day. I am captivated by the words of a prisoner who lived centuries before me, for our experience transcends time. Every incarcerated person can relate. If I slow down but for a moment I can hear the heavy metal clank of Reading Gaol’s cell doors, feel the damp on my skin and taste the mustiness of air, for despite the separation of time some things in prison don’t change.
Early in my sentence the State of Ohio executed its incarcerated people with cyclical rhythm. On those days the gravity of execution weighed heavy on many of us.
Oscar Wilde too struggled with the executions of his time. He understood, as I do too, that we give up a piece of our humanity when society clutches revenge close to it’s heart.
(“To see the universe and all pervading spirit of truth face to face, one must be able to love the meanest of all creatures as one’s self.” — Mahatma Gandhi)
In the 1990’s I became a certified GED tutor. I tutored the kids that were here, juvenile boys the youngest of whom was 14 years old. Like Wilde, I felt for the kids.
My experience with the juveniles taught me a lot about myself. The boys suffered from childhood traumas with many having been sexually abused; or came from broken homes; or came from the foster care system — many from all three and then some. The more I got to know them the more I realized they were just like other boys. They yearned for acceptance, love, and guidance. They dreamt the same dreams every teen boy dreams, except for them dreams were all they had.
(“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort, but where he stands in times of challenge.” — Martin Luther King Jr.)
My time tutoring the boys greatly impacted me. As Oscar Wilde did I too witnessed similar things, boys struggling to cope and make sense of their situation; and, boys who were beaten by the very people entrusted with their safety. What is a yong man to make of this? I was still a kid myself back then.
On a balmy afternoon when the sky was blue and unfettered, one of my students was murdered on account of his skin color. I was devastated. The evil that lurks in every prison had struck close to me.
I had poured my heart and soul into that kid and then he was no longer. My mind literally couldn’t process what had happened. I had gotten to know the boy and realized he simply yearned for a guiding figure in his life — it seemed all the boys yearned for that.
I hid my trauma and pain from family. I have always shielded them from unnecessary worry as most incarcerated people do. I’ve only recently begun writing about that long ago event.
In prison we experience things only our nightmares can prepare us for. We hide that which the world makes us hold, while groping through shadows searching for light.
Sometimes the act of breathing is a triumph in itself.
(“The greatest glory in living is(n’t) never failing, but rising every time we fail.” — Nelson Mandela)
After a lifetime on the Inside I have found myself. I know my purpose in this world and I live it each day. The adversities I have faced, the traumas I’ve overcome, and each dream that has crashed and burned has molded me anew. I arise from ash and dust every day.
Nelson Mandela was an angry youth when he was cast away to prison. Over 27 years of imprisonment he arrived at the same conclusions I have: There is no room for anger; only love defeats hatred, and hope illuminates darkness. To adopt these principles is to move the world for when you hate, hate finds you but when you love, love comes to us. Mandela exemplified these truths.
No one is infallible. No matter what a man or woman has done we are still part of the same family the human family. We are redeemable. However, we must first be willing to lower the sword of personal bias and judgement in order to see this.
(“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” — Oscar Wilde)
I never dwell on the past. I choose to pursue a new life, one based on core values of community, faith, family, integrity, honesty, and transparency. I credit the titans — Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and Oscar Wilde — for having had courage to write about their experience. Through their works I find strength, purpose and direction.
In prison we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist, and Stillwater Award Recipient. His newest book ‘Christopher and Friends: Reflections From Behind the Wall’ (ISBN: 979-8262373062) is available on Amazon.
Thank you! for following. Click on subscribe, enter your email address and you will be notified the moment I publish a new post.
Prison Dogs Changed Our Lives
By Christopher Monihan & Nicole Leslein
(Christopher): I am a dog handler with 19 years of experience training dogs.
I’ve rehabilitated traumatized Pit bulls and breathed excitement and life into skittish Chihuahuas. I’ve trained aggressive Akita’s and brought order to high energy German Shepherds. And I learned how to do it all here in prison.
At Madison Correctional (MaCI) we have two dog programs, a ‘pound rescue’ program known as the Fresh Start Canine/Feline Program, and a Staff Dogs program.
I began my journey training dogs in 2007 in MaCI’s Fresh Start Canine/Feline program. The program has ties to London, Ohio’s animal shelter which sends dogs into the prison. Once here, and over the course of 3-6 months, I would train and rehabilitate them. It was common for dogs to arrive traumatized from their time at the shelter. I can’t help but notice similar parallels to life in prison. Incarcerated people endure incarceration borne traumas from the prison experience.
Once trained the dogs are put up for adoption.
At Ohio’s 3000 person women’s prison, the Ohio Reformatory for Women (ORW), there are dog programs similar to ours.
My friend Nicole Leslein is a dog handler at ORW. We share a love for the dogs and find peace and comfort interacting with them.
(Nicole): My name is Nicole Leslein and I am a dog handler with the Ohio Reformatory for Women’s Pawsabilities Dog Program. I have been a dog handler since November of 2021.
When I first got to the dog program housing unit, within minutes I wanted to move out. I felt out of place among the clickety-clicks for the women acted like they were better than everyone. The Sargent at the time talked me into staying and giving it a solid chance. I was a GED student struggling with school and it was a lot to cope with but I stayed.
(Christopher): There’s a lot of politicking that goes on in prison dog programs. The men can be self-serving adding a layer of potential frustration and stress if not actively guarded against. On more than one occasion over the years I too contemplated quitting.
Personalities notwithstanding, the pound program was the equivalent of an entry level job. Anyone with a clean institutional record was eligible, save for certain disqualifying charges.
Once I was part of the program I enrolled into the 2 year 4000 hour dog apprenticeship program to earn state recognized certification. My time in the pound program equipped me with valuable skills in training and caring for dogs. I also developed skills to interact constructively with the complex personalities of my working peers.
In 2019 my certification opened the door to the program I am currently in, the Staff Dog Program. Each dog is owned by a staffer. My certification will allow me the freedom to open my own dog related business upon release.
(Nicole): The Pawsabilities Dog Program had steps I had to take and pass to actually get an assigned dog. I took Group One and passed which took me four months. Afterward I decided to work on becoming a ‘reactive dog handler’ which deals with the more complex dogs. These are the dogs who struggle with the different stimuli they encounter in their day. I liked and looked up to my mentor. In this program we handled ‘staff’ owned dogs.
(Christopher): The Staff Dog program has been an enjoyable experience. I see a side of staff that most incarcerated people don’t see that is open and kind. Inmate, guard — we are all people. It is a hopeful feeling.
The dogs are wonderful and I have opportunity to train in addition to providing daycare and boarding services. I earn a small wage for the services I provide which amounts to pennies on the hour. Despite this my job is a privileged and coveted position. I’ve been in the Staff Dog program for 8 years. I was in the Fresh Start Canine/Feline program prior to Staff Dogs for 11 years and did the exact same work for free. The fact I earn anything is a bonus because I don’t do this for the money.
(Nicole): I eventually became a mentor in the program. The staff program at this time had 40-45 dog handlers and averaged about 28 dogs a day. It cost $5 a day to keep your dog in daycare or to board for 24 hours.
We offer a full-service groom room where your dog can get a bath (8.00-16.00 depending upon dog size); and even a haircut — anything from a simple trim to a breed cut for a poodle.
(Christopher): We don’t have a grooming service here like Nicole’s at this time. However, I bathe, groom, and clip the dog’s claws whenever needed without compensation. The dogs are like family members to those who own them, and I always try to give back more than I receive.
(Nicole): My job as a mentor was rough at times and not everyone always liked me. Some even called me “Lt. Leslein” to be funny. I am a huge animal lover and will always advocate for the animals. I can say this: I was fair and held everyone to the same standards. I created programs to help train the handlers, stayed a mentor, dog scheduler, and officer’s runner (where I was tasked with errands) for 2 1/2 years. In that time I learned a lot about being a leader, dog handler and person.
My five years in the pawsabilities Dog Program made me a better person and saved my life. It has given me purpose and is something I plan on continuing once I go home. I love the dogs and the unconditional love they give humans.
(Christopher): In prison we are faced with choices. Do we pursue values and goals that build the foundation for a new life outside where as law abiding citizens we thrive? Or do we pursue the values and ambitions of prison life where there is no future and where there is no possibility for growth nor change? I have faced push back from the men around me not in the program, for I choose a proper path.
As a dog handler I have found purpose and inspiration to be the best version of self I can be. I’ve learned how to cope with different personalities, manage my time, and effectively work with others. All of which have helped me to build a solid foundation for a successful future.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist, and Stillwater Award recipient. His newest book is available on Amazon.
*Nicole Leslein recently was released and is now home where she plans to open her own dog business.
Hope & Joy At Prison Fest
By Christopher Monihan
“What does the sunflower on your shirt represent to you?” Says the WBNS 10 TV anchor. I’ve watched her on television for years but never imagined I’d be at a women’s prison being interviewed by her.
“It represents hope to me,” I say. “It represents a new beginning.”
I’m a Harmony Project choir singer at Madison Correctional Institution (MaCI). Today is June 02, 2026 and I’m at the 4th annual Sunflower Arts & Music Festival at the Ohio Reformatory for Women (ORW).
The festival is sponsored by Harmony and brings together three Ohio prisons MaCI, ORW and Pickaway Correctional (PCI). Columbus, Ohio based Harmony works within prisons and the Columbus community spreading a message of hope and unity through contemporary music.
“Where you are does not define who you are,” David Brown tells us. Brown is founder and director of Harmony and this refrain underpins Harmony’s prison arts program.
I’ve been a Harmony choir singer four years running. Today is my fourth time attending the festival and fourth time I’ll have presented a spoken word to the thousands in attendance.
I am filled with feelings of hope, joy, and unselfish love. The crowd is like family to me. My message today is designed to lift others and offer hope to those who have forgotten what hope feels like.
Before the day is over I’ll have spoken to the outgoing Ohio Director of Prisons Ms. Annette Chambers-Smith; the founder of Papa John’s Pizza; the CEO of Papa John’s Pizza; and the wardens of ORW and MaCI.
In the morning we gather in the ORW gymnasium along with PCI and ORW choirs. In attendance are dozens of important guests –from ODRC correctional leadership, to Harmony donors — all of whom make the day possible.
“Do you think we’ll get to see the children of Sunflower House?” I say, to my friend Corey.
“I hope so,” he says as we take seats at chairs on the gym floor.
Harmony has a longstanding relationship with the children’s Sunflower Hospice in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Last year we sang to them by video link and the children sang to us. It’s a moment that’s joyful and heavy for many of us.
In the morning the men’s choirs sing ‘Good News’ by Shaboozey and ‘Amen’ by Shaboozey and Jelly Roll to the guests and ORW choir. The ORW women sing an amazing rendition of the 70’s disco classic ‘Dancing Queen’. By the time they finish many of us are wiping away tears from our eyes.
We watch a prerecorded video from the children of Sunflower House singing and dancing for us. I can’t help but think of how there’s so much light in our world of shadows.
In the afternoon we assemble on the prison yard for a lawn concert rocking the crowd. All three choirs together sing several songs for the massive crowd. When we’re not singing several Ohio bands perform for us, cover songs the crowd knows by heart.
It is time for me to present my spoken word.
I stand upon the huge concert stage, mic in hand, big screen at my back and I look out upon the crowd. Cheerful voices reach me and waiving hands draw my attention. I can’t help but know, as every incarcerated person does, that there is a lot of trauma, longing, and sadness beneath many faces in the crowd.
My spoken word is for the outside guests in attendance who know not our struggles as incarcerated people — and for the crowd. Except, for us my message is one of hope that says, no matter who you are or what you are going through you are going to be okay. WE are going to be okay.
Shortly afterward it is time to go. The day has come to an end and we depart.
I peer through the steel mesh of the prison bus window and take in the passing countryside. I feel peace and contentment. My thoughts are on the many people I leave behind today.
For four years I have experienced this return ride back to my prison. I grow a little inside each time, but I heal more than anything.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
I Would Go Back & Meet Eve By Christopher
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I’m a little nervous,” says Clayton.
Clayton is a handsome young man and one of our guests tonight. I feel his nervousness when we shake hands. He is here for Kindway Embark’s monthly navigators gathering. This is Clayton’s first time stepping foot into a prison.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I say, hoping to set him at ease. “You’re in for a treat tonight!”
In truth, in this moment, I feel a tinge of sadness and shame. Sad because another human being harbors fears about who I am being an incarcerated person; and, shame for having subjected another person to the consequences of my past actions.
The public harbors stereotypes about incarcerated people, stereotypes perpetrated by Hollywood movies and popular crime shows. Reality couldn’t be further from the truth. We are people who made very poor decisions in our pasts. We are brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. We laugh and cry, hope and believe like anyone else.
We are, to put it simply, just people.
“Movies like Shawshank Redemption and popular crime shows perpetuate stereotypes about who we are,” I say, to Clayton and the other men sitting at my table – Ron, Joseph, and Miguel.
Joseph and Miguel nod knowingly.
I am engaged with numerous Columbus, Ohio based organizations dedicated to helping incarcerated people and restored citizens. These organizations exist on donations, some federal grant funding, and prayer — a lot of prayer. Kindway Embark is one of these organizations.
Tonight’s gathering is sponsored by Kindway Embark. It is part of a year long hands on mentorship aiming to grow strong Christian brothers and sisters through intense pre-release preparation. The focus is on faith based reentry success.
Tonight we are celebrating our faith. For a couple of hours we discover one another through social interaction centered around conversation, food, group games, testimony and prayer.
“Okay! Game time!” says the emcee. “We are going to play the game of ‘Would You Rather,'”–everyone erupts in laughter–” except this is the Christian version! “
“First question: Would you rather witness the Red Sea parting or Jesus walking on water?”
Immediately the room fills with animated chatter as dozens of outside guests and Kindway Embark participants discuss answers.
“I’d want to see Jesus as he walks on water,” says Clayton.
“Yeah, me too,” says Miguel.
“Yeah, I agree,” says Ron.
I find myself in the minority and second guessing my choice.
“I’d want to witness the parting of the Red Sea,” I say.
“You wouldn’t want to see Jesus walking on water?” says Miguel.
“Uh, well — yeah I would, but I think I’d like to witness the Red Sea parting that would be astounding.” I suddenly feel sheepish.
After a couple of other ‘Would You Rather’ questions my table erupts into a game of its own.
I say: “Okay, how about this; if you could go back in time and meet any one human — and not Jesus, that’s a given — who would it be?”
Someone mentions wanting to meet Abraham. Someone else mentions wanting to meet one of the biblical kings.
“I would go back in time to meet Eve,” I say. The whole table is suddenly intently focused upon my words. “I would go back to meet Eve in the moment where she reaches for the apple on the tree. I would stop her.”
“Oh, right,” says Clayton, “that’s noble!”
The others utter similar thoughts.
“She has no idea the pain and suffering she unleashed upon the world.”
There’s a brief moment of heavy gravity at the table. I break the moment by changing subjects. I talk about my 31 year journey incarcerated and how in many ways it has revealed blessings in disguise. Miguel and Joseph eagerly add in their incarceration experience.
The night wraps up with a group prayer. We form a large circle and hold hands as one individual leads the prayer.
With my head bowed and my eyes closed I think of all the Kindway Embark volunteers some of whom are restored citizens themselves. I think of tonight’s guests and I thank God for each of them: Robin, Heidi, Pat, Clayton, Tim, Preston, “Wally”, Juan, Ryan, Jeremy, Dennis, Marcus, Drennan, Mike, Emil, Randy, Ron #2, and Vance.
I have a moment of panic as I try to remember if I’m missing anyone, but I leave it to God.
Reflecting back upon the evening I feel immense gratitude. I can see the future one where I am free in a new life with my Kindway Embark brothers and sisters. Tonight I caught a glimpse of the very people that I know will be a part of it and I am grateful.
Amen.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
Thank you! for following. Click on subscribe, enter your email address and you will be notified the moment I publish a new post. Also, my newest book, ‘Christopher And Friends: Reflections From Behind The Wall’ (ISBN: 979-8262373062) is now available on Amazon. Please share a copy with a friend!