It’s not every day you meet a budtender with the heart of a healer, the courage of a bull rider and the soul of a Chicano warrior — but that’s exactly who Eric Cesar Luna Rivera is. Born in Seattle but rooted in Michoacán, Mexico, Eric carries the strength of his ancestors and the dreams of his generation into every interaction — whether he’s guiding patients as a medical translator or welcoming the canna-curious as a cherished bilingual budtender at the Bakeree Belltown.
He’s a fourth-generation jaripeo bull rider, a cultural bridge between nations, and a Cannabis activist who has transformed past injustice into a mission of empowerment. In this special Adventure Issue, we dive into Eric’s multicultural world — from bull riding arenas in Cuto de la Esperanza to the dispensary counters and medical clinics of the Pacific Northwest. Whether he’s helping Spanish speaking patients find relief or envisioning a dispensary of his own, Eric’s story is one of cultural pride, resilience and radical love for la planta.
Tell us where you’re rooted, both physically and spiritually.
I was born and raised in Seattle, Washington, but my roots are in Cuto de la Esperanza, Michoacán. That’s where both my parents are from. Spiritually, my heart beats in two lands — el norte y el sur — and both have shaped who I am.
You carry such a powerful story, bridging worlds. Can you share a memory that connects you to your Mexican heritage and Cannabis?
Growing up, my abuelita in Mexico used Cannabis as medicine. She’d make tinctures for pain — it wasn’t recreational, it was medicina. It was normal to see elders using the plant for healing. That memory stuck with me. Even before I smoked it myself, I knew Cannabis was medicine.
When did your personal Cannabis journey begin?
I started young — around 12 or 13. First a bong, then joints. After mi abuelo passed, I stopped for a while. He was a huge influence on me — a cowboy, a true jaripeo man. Eventually, I found my way back to the plant, this time with more respect and purpose.
Can you speak on your current Cannabis experience in Mexico? That moment you mentioned with la Policia Federal sounded symbolic of the larger global struggle.
Yeah, I was traveling from Playa del Carmen to Tulum, Mexico. I had just purchased a CBD vape pen from a legal store, and I got stopped by la policía. The dogs snuffed out an empty package with a weed leaf printed on it — no product was anywhere in the car, just the image of la planta. Even though it was empty, I was searched head to toe. They threatened to arrest me for a legally purchased empty package. I had to buy my way out of their claws. That moment hit hard — I was in my ancestral homeland but still treated like a criminal over something my people have used for generations.
You’re more than a budtender — you’re a medical translator, too. What’s that experience been like?
It’s deeply humbling. I work with patients — mostly Spanish-speaking — many dealing with critical end-of-life conditions like cancer. I translate between them and doctors. I’ve celebrated and cried with familias. It’s a blessing to bring comfort, especially to people who feel unseen in these medical systems.
Now you’re aiming to open your own shop through a social equity license?
Yeah, that’s the dream. I’ve been through the system — I caught a felony at 18 for possession. It’s impacted job prospects, housing, everything. So I want to create a space that reflects our culture, our story, and offers safe access. I want to bring this knowledge back to Mexico one day, too.
What’s your vibe as a budtender? What strains are you smoking right now?
I’m a sweet strain guy — love Gelato, anything fruity or gassy. I like Dutchies or smoking rosin out the Puffco Peak. As a budtender, I try to educate — not just push product. I want people to feel empowered by their choices.
Music and movement are big in jaripeo culture. What’s playing when you’re vibing with the plant?
Banda and sones — the stuff they play at jaripeos. That’s my rhythm. It reminds me of home, of the adrenaline, the community, the sacred dance with the bulls.
Your story is puro medicina. Any last words for our readers?
Embrace your roots. Don’t be ashamed of where you come from. Whether it’s the barrio, the ranchera or the borderlands — your story is valid and la medicina marijuana — it connects us all.
