Welcome back to “Ancient Wisdom,” our Sunday series in which writers over 70 tell us how they are aging gracefully. Last week, the editor of the series, Joe Nocera, 73, wrote about being missing in action as a young dad—and becoming a better dad the second time around. This week, pianist Steven Blier, also 73, explains why his musical life is richer today than when he was accompanying Renée Fleming at Carnegie Hall.

I’ve had a lucky life. I live in New York, a city I adore, I have a wonderful husband, and I began a successful career in the impossible field of music at the age of 20. Since my early 40s, I’ve been on the faculty at The Juilliard School, and for over half a century, I’ve been a collaborative pianist. I’ve accompanied many of the big divas of the day, singers like Jessye Norman and Susan Graham. In 1999, I reached a pinnacle when I played recitals at Carnegie Hall and La Scala as Renée Fleming’s pianist. Cecilia Bartoli had me at both the harpsichord and the piano for her Carnegie Hall concert, before sweeping me off to Brazil for a crazy week of recitals in São Paulo, and later to Scotland for one beautiful night in Edinburgh. So yes, I’ve been very lucky.

But I’ve also faced some challenges. Thirty-six years ago, when I was 37, I was diagnosed with a form of muscular dystrophy. I remained at decently high function for a while longer, but eventually it had its way with my legs, and later with my arms. I went from hobbling around on a cane to zooming around on a scooter, and ultimately in a state-of-the-art wheelchair. Succumbing to the seductive pleasure of motorized devices has made the last 18 years smoother sailing, but also more limited. I can race off to the store faster than a speed walker, but when I get there, I can’t reach anything on a shelf higher than my shoulder. I might be able to get on the subway at 96th Street, only to find that I cannot exit at Times Square because of a broken elevator.

The wheelchair has been one of my greatest teachers. It forces me to take pride in my resilience, ask for what I need, value what I have to give, and empathize with every living being with whom I come in contact. When I am in public, I can’t hide, which is a tall order for an introvert like me. Once I had to spend my life seated, I finally became a grown-up—and not a minute too soon...