Anything can be misunderstood, including something as (apparently) simple as “loving what’s here”.
For me, it means finding a quiet love for what’s here, for any experience (and especially that which a thought may label as a part of me, a subpersonality, an emotion, a wound etc.). It’s the love I would have for a scared and confused child or animal. It’s a quiet being with. A comforting presence. Allowing the child or animal to be and feel as it is and does. Finding a quiet love for it and what it is experiencing here and now. It’s what allows it to feel seen, met, perhaps even understood. It allows it to relax, soften (even if that’s not necessary or the intention).
The other way of understanding “loving what’s here”, is very different, and quite opposite in many ways. It’s what may be described as a (somewhat misguided) delight in indulging in what’s here, in – for instance – wounds and anger. “I love my anger, indulge in it, live it out.” This tends to fuel the wounds, identifications and hangups.
One is the quiet love we would have for a confused and scared child or animal. The other is indulging in it and fueling the hangups. One is the love we are. The other is a much more superficial, and perhaps misguided, use of the word “love”.