As a child around the age of 10 I would often lie in bed and contemplate infinity and the edge of the universe.
Is there an edge, or does it keep going forever? If there is an edge, then what is past that, and what is it that can go past that in awareness?
In this way, I deduced that the universe cannot be made out of anything. That it is nothing material.
What is it that makes it all if this is nothing? I would do this for hours, until the question exhausted itself, and there was just the sense of it left.
As a child, I would get scared when I felt spirits enter the room, and would throw them out to the moon. If they came back, I would throw them out again and circle them around the moon a few times. Poor spirits, never got a chance to say hello.
Then I would sometimes pull the blankets over my head in my own universe, go to sleep and climb out the window in my subtle body and sit on the roof looking into the stars.